A Mighty Fortress

by H. A. Covington

  “Don’t say that! We don’t know that for sure,” warned Bells. “The Bushes are mean, and sometimes they’re dumb as a box of rocks, too, which ain’t a good combination, but those Clintons got a few screws loose and Bill was a drug addict. There ain’t no telling what those upazzi will do. For all I know Chelsea could be announcing that she’s tripling the rewards for all our heads, or gay marriage is now mandatory and we all got to find homo life partners to buttfuck, or she’s going to deport every white inhabitant of the Northwest to camps in Nevada like they’ve already done with some of those little towns out in the sticks. I mean it, guys, keep your lips zipped and don’t get your hopes up. But I’ll tell you this much: we’re on alert. All of us. The whole fucking Northwest Volunteer Army, Homeland-wide. Just got the word this morning. We are all to stand to with our best weapons and field gear and get ready for come what may. After a bit I want you two to go out to the garage and Eddie Hagen will issue you both with rifles and some magazines, and a web belt with some necessary things that we’ve put together. Nightshade, have you been cleared on the AK-74?”

  “Uh, no sir,” said Emily. “I can learn fast, though.”

  “M-16?” asked Bells.

  “Yes, sir, I got a course on that weapon from my Third Section control.”

  “Uh, I should mention that after what happened, I reached out, and I already know your control is Luke Skywalker, so you can say his name around me. We’ll give you a Sixteen. Remind me when we’ve got the time, and me or Eddie will go over the Seventy-Four with you. We’ll most likely end up using the Kalashnikov as our basic infantry weapon, since they’re not only damned fine guns, they’re as cheap and plentiful as lollipops thanks to our new friend in the Kremlin, Premier Komarovsky.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “For another thing, there’s been some changes at the top in our command roster,” continued Bells. “We’re getting a visit here later on tonight from the Brigade Commandant, that is the new one, Joe Dortmunder, whom you’ve met. The old Commandant, Frank Barrow, is coming along as well, only he’s some kind of general now. Oh, and I’m a captain, by the way. Apparently we’re going to be bringing some new guys into the brigade and expanding our companies. Besides that, once the officers get here, we got something for you two to do while we wait around for Chelsea to come on the tube.”

  “Farmer said something about modeling?” asked Cody curiously.

  “Yeah,” said Bells. “You two get to try on your new NVA uniforms. Apparently we’re all gonna get ‘em, although not for a while, but we get a sneak peek tonight. Including the latest summer ensemble for the well-dressed female Volunteer, so we finally get to see Comrade Nightshade wearing a dress.”

  “She wears a dress to church,” said Cody. “The experience is overrated, I assure you. Ow!” he yelped as Emily karate-chopped him in the gut.

  When they were in the garage later on, Cody to receive his AK-74 and Nightshade her M-16, along with magazines and cleaning kits and the web belt, he asked her, “You want to be the one to do the job on Newman when the time comes? He’d be a great target to make your bones on.”

  “Nah, you can do it,” she said carelessly. “I’ll be the honey trap, and he should go for it since he already tried once with me and struck out. Don’t worry, Cody, I’m quite capable of killing someone personally, especially a Jew who has made it clear that he views me as nothing more than a piece of meat he can handle at will. But I think it will do you more moral good, plus it will give you notch number two and add to your rep with the guys around here. Plus mine for being a slinky femme fatale, and I do mean fatale.”

  “What do you mean, do me more moral good?” asked Cody in puzzlement.

  “Oh, call it better karma, a word which would make Pastor Len scream in horror if he heard me use it. Your reason for killing the son of a bitch is better.”

  “Huh?” asked Cody stiffly. “I don’t know what you mean. Newman is a Jew, and no one needs a reason for killing a Jew. They’re like rats or pigeons. They spread disease. It’s a social hygiene thing. Newman has to go because he is an enemy of my race and my nation, and because he is a sexual predator who victimizes and humiliates my racial sisters.”

  “Sure, we can take all that as read, and it’s true enough as far as it goes,” said Nightshade. “But you darn well know we’ve both got personal reasons. This isn’t the Mafia, you know, even if Captain DiBella is Italian. It doesn’t have to be just business. We’re allowed to get personal. I want that Jew dead just to avenge a personal insult. You want him dead to protect someone you love.” She turned and pointedly walked out of the garage and back to the house, her rifle slung over shoulder, before Cody could say anything, which on quick reflection he decided was a good idea. Kelly was something he saw no point in discussing, with Emily or anyone else. Yet he wondered if he were really that obvious. If Emily could see it, surely Kelly herself at least guessed?

  A group of senior NVA officers duly showed up at the safe house later that evening, including not only the newly made General Barrow and Joe Dortmunder, but Red Morehouse and all their attendant bodyguards. They arrived with several suitcases from which they drew items of apparel. “Volunteer Brock, there’s something I need to discuss with you,” Barrow told him. “But we’ll wait until after the President has made her speech. Depending on what she has to say, there may not be any need for your special services, even at this late date.”

  Before Cody could ask what special services he could possibly provide, Morehouse spoke up. “In the meantime, we would like you and Comrade Nightshade to be the first to model these, beings as you’re typical young Volunteers of the kind we like to think of as our standard, so we can get an idea of what they look like, and also General Barrow gets to try on his officer’s kit, which he will soon be wearing on a formal occasion.”

  “Ah, what occasion is that, sir?” asked Cody.

  “Mmmm…just to make sure, ask me again in…” Morehouse looked at his watch. “Half an hour. Those doodoo birds in D.C. may turn out to have been playing us all along. I’ll believe it when I hear it. Actually, let’s not even mess around with the fashion show just yet. It’s almost time. Captain DiBella, I assume that in an upscale dwelling like this you have a television with cable news?”

  “Fifty-inch plasma satellite rig, sir, down in the rec room.”

  “Gather everyone in, except one sentry,” commanded Barrow. “We have a bit of history in the making here, and I want everybody to see it.” Cody was glad neither he nor Nightshade was chosen for guard duty. DiBella turned on the tube and flipped the remote a bit. There were the usual shopping channels, Gilligan’s Island re-runs, old movies and assorted politically correct programs of various kinds, but every news channel and all the networks were carrying coverage of an imminent Presidential address to the nation. Bells settled on CNN. The first thing they saw was the ebony face of Paulus Ingram, a well-known network talking head.

  “We’re still waiting for the hookup from the Oval Office to begin,” said the toothsome negro with the three hundred dollar “conk” coiffure to straighten his kinky hair. It appeared he was addressing a white female talking head, an equally well-coiffed blonde whose face appeared in the lower right hand of the television screen. The White House was behind her, illuminated in the muggy darkness of a summer night.

  “Apropos of what you were saying just a minute ago, Jenny, the President’s announcement is definitely unexpected. We didn’t get word ourselves until this morning. CNN has been informed that she and the Vice President, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the Director of Homeland Security met with a delegation of senior legislators from both Houses of Congress this afternoon and apparently what they had to say took these Congressional VIPs by complete surprise. I have heard described to me that their faces leaving the White House were in some cases angry and in some cases simply baffled. It’s also unexpected in that this is Chelsea Clinton’s first separate nationwide address devoted entirely to the subject o
f domestic terrorism, outside of what might be considered the standard and obligatory references and expressions of our national determination to with the war on domestic terror during her State of the Union addresses. Ms. Clinton has in fact devoted most of her term to the social agenda which has always been her family’s strongest point when the Clintons have been in office, as opposed to the Bushes who are generally more prominent in foreign affairs and security issues, although it has to be said that the current President Clinton has continued the last President Bush’s strong line in the War on Terror to the satisfaction of both parties. She’s taken a firm stand on both Islamic terrorism in the Middle East and throughout the world, and she’s been just as firm on racist terror in the Pacific Northwest. But this President has so far been content to leave security issues to the professionals, and in order to further professionalize the struggle against domestic terrorism, at the beginning of her term she signed off on the creation of the Federal Anti-Terrorist Police Organization without hesitation. A notable bipartisan effort which won her a lot of points on both sides of the aisle.”

  “Yes indeed, Paulus,” said Jenny brightly, “That was to be expected in view of the fact that the FATPO bill received bipartisan backing notably from her mother, former President Hillary Clinton, in return for the Republicans’ concession regarding the suspension of the Twenty-Fourth Amendment, which would allow Hillary herself one more shot at the gold ring and enable her to succeed her own daughter for an unprecedented third term. That would be one for the books, eh Paulus? But Washington is a goldfish bowl. Surely we must by now have at least some inkling of what the President intends to say?”

  Ingram replied, “Well, Jenny, there is some speculation that she finally intends to declare at least three Pacific Northwest states and parts of several others to be in a state of insurrection against the United States, which is a step that Congressional conservatives and liberals alike have been calling on her to perform for many years, and if I may say so, if this is the reason for the President’s address tonight, then it’s not before time, Jenny. I simply don’t know what else that the level of terrorism and racist intimidation which exists in Washington and Oregon and Idaho could possibly be called, if not an armed insurrection. The official reason that this hasn’t been done is that to do so would concede that the United States has in effect lost control over the Pacific Northwest and thus hand the terrorists a moral victory, but a lot of people have never really bought that.”

  Morehouse shook his head and sighed. “They’ve already suspended virtually every Constitutional guarantee that our forefathers had, habeas corpus, the Bill of Rights, they set up the FISA court for secret wiretaps as early as 1978, for crying out loud—why should they bother to declare a legal status which existed de facto even before 10/22? The Federal government has been doing whatever the hell it wants to do to white people for years.”

  Ingram was babbling on. “I asked about that very issue earlier tonight when I had NAACP president Jamal Watkins on my show. Kenneth, we seem to have a little time, can we roll that one clip while we wait for the President to make her appearance?”

  The screen flashed to another negroid countenance. He was seated in a plush studio swivel chair. “I would verra much hope dat tonight President Clinton shall indeed finally take de necessar-ray steps to address de problem ob racist terror in ah so-ci-eh-tay. De peeple ob dis cuntry hab long awaited some sign dat dose in powuh ah red-day to make a commitment to human decency and crush, extoimenate, and cut off from de oith dese white racist moiderers who hab defiled…”

  Ingram broke in. “Wait, I have been informed that President Clinton has entered the Oval Office.” The scene suddenly cut to the sad camel-face of Chelsea Clinton, wearing a prim tweed suit and seated behind a large mahogany desk in the Oval Office, American and Israeli flags behind her.

  “I doubt that’s actually the Oval Office,” said Morehouse. “Third Section intelligence tells us she’s afraid to stay in the White House any more, since we keep shelling it as part of Operation Pigkill. That’s probably some mockup, and she’s really broadcasting from Camp David or someplace.”

  “Why does every American president since Jug-Ears do these things with an Israeli flag in the background?” complained Bells.

  “It’s their way of letting us know who really has the power,” chuckled Barrow. “You know, like opening a fortune cookie and finding a message that says ‘Help, I am being held prisoner in a fortune cookie factory.’”

  “Seriously?” replied Morehouse. “Back during Jug-Ears’ second term, the Pals let off a really big banger in Jerusalem and splattered a couple of hundred hebes all over the landscape, so Bush II started displaying the Israeli flag along with the red, white and blue at White House functions, our brave little partner in the battle against evil global terrorism and all that crap, never mind the fact that none of the whole mess would have happened if it hadn’t been for that insane idea of planting a few million Jews in the middle of hundreds of millions of people who loathe them, and then giving the same Jews a blank check to go berserk and slaughter Muslims right, left, and center. The so-called War on Terror didn’t begin on September 11th, 2001. It began in 1948. Anyway, the tradition of the Israeli flag at all Presidential dog and pony shows just kind of stuck. Hell, give them an A for honesty.”

  Chelsea was still staring silently at the camera like a dead fish. Apparently, no one had told her to start speaking yet. “Does she have the little box on her back this time, with the earphone so whoever her handler is off camera can tell her what to say?” asked Dortmunder. “I saw that one campaign speech back during the election, where it actually came loose and fell out from under her jacket under the floor. And you know, it didn’t even raise any eyebrows. No one ever believed she spoke for herself anyway. They might as well morph her face into Hillary’s.”

  “I swear, every time I look at her I feel great,” said Emily with a grin. “Because when I see Chelsea, I know there’s one other woman out there uglier than I am.”

  Something prompted Cody to lean over and whisper in her ear, softly but firmly, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, comrade. You are not ugly to me, or to any man here.” He felt her jump, but his eyes were on the TV screen as President Chelsea Clinton began to speak.

  “Good evening,” she said. “Tonight I wish to speak to the United States of America, and to the world, about something which I understand and accept will be very much misunderstood, and which will cause deep feeling throughout the country. But what I must discuss with you tonight is an idea whose time has come, and it may well prove to be the beginning of a new era in this nation’s long war on terrorism. For many years during the last century, terrorism was something that was restricted to foreign countries, mostly in the Middle East as the result of Muslim refusal to accept the sudden existence of a Jewish state in their midst where none had been before, and the Muslim world’s subsequent abandonment of all civilized and humane standards of behavior in their effort to drive that Jewish state out of existence. As both the foremost ally of Israel, and the standard bearer of democracy and enlightenment, it was perhaps inevitable that the United States would be eventually dragged into that terrorist conflict.

  “Then came the cataclysmic events of September 11th, 2001. Ever since then, the United States has followed a policy of bringing democracy and freedom directly to the Muslim world, by persuasion and diplomacy where possible, by compulsory régime change where necessary. It is in the interest of all of humanity that Islam be required to embrace values and systems of government which will enable the state of Israel to survive and prosper, and thereby bring about the ultimate goal of all world history, a Brotherhood of Man. This administration, like previous ones, has continued this benevolent policy of imposing civilized thoughts and behaviors on those within the Islamic world who are unwilling to recognize the need to modernize their faith and bring it into conformity with twenty-first century human values, specifically rendering Islam inclusive of women, reli
gious and racial minorities, and those of different sexual orientations. We will not falter in this sacred trust. Israel is intended by God to be a Light Unto The Nations, and America was created to be the torchbearer of that light.”

  “I thought it had something to do with a tax on tea?” growled Bells.

  “Holy moley, she’s laying it on thick,” said somebody behind Cody and Emily, who were sitting on the couch. “Somebody really glued her lips to Israel’s butt tonight.”

  “But closer to home, tragic events have taken shape,” Chelsea went on. “Our own country throughout its long history has never been free of the curse of racism, of intolerance, of hatred and bigotry, of contempt for minorities and women and gays on the part of the heterosexual and patriarchal white males who controlled America and its resources for so long a part of our national existence. Within the past three generations, to our eternal credit, America has begun to step forward, out of the fever swamp of racial hatred, and into the green and pleasant meadows of brotherhood and tolerance. Beginning with the civil rights movement, led by the immortal and beloved Doctor Martin Luther King, and continuing on with the anti-Vietnam War movement of the 1960s in which my own beloved parents grew to political and personal maturity…”

  “Dammit, woman will you just get on with it?” groaned Bobby Bells.

  “No, no, all this waffle may be a good thing,” said Morehouse, watching intensely. “She may be wrapping a bitter pill for them to swallow in layers of verbal cotton candy. Or her speechwriter is.”

  “It was inevitable that there would be bitter and stubborn resistance to the march of the new world order,” said Chelsea, changing tone. “Sometimes violent and criminal resistance by men with closed minds and closed hearts. For many years hatecrime was dealt with swiftly and efficiently by law enforcement and the courts, and many white males paid the price for their refusal to turn their back on the past and accept the coming of a bright new day of tolerance and diversity where the black man, the brown man, and women and gays of all colors walked proudly at his side as his equals and, more often than not, his betters. Up until a certain day in October, four years and nine months ago, we thought that ordinary criminal procedures were enough to deal with this cancer of racism and hatred in our society. Unfortunately, we were wrong. On that October 22nd, evil men who had spent years creating and perfecting a diabolical criminal conspiracy, elected to use a child custody case involving the Singer family of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho as an excuse to launch what can only be termed an insurrection against the United States.”