Lights out in America's Dairyland: An EMP Adventure

by Victor Marbury

  “Sir, it was a slaughter, those white farmers have been shooting things since they could crawl. They were picking us off like flies. I saw four of our men get shredded by a big black cop with the AR….it was like poppoppoppop, and that’s all she wrote!”

  “Then there was this white boy with a rocket launcher…one shot and that truck we got running just blew up……BLAM!” He made a sweeping gesture with his arms to indicate a large explosion.

  “Boss, those bastards didn’t even let us run away…..they shot our people in the back as they fled, those fuckers! I don’t think we can afford any more small attacks…it’ll bleed us dry. We have to attack the town right away will all we got before they can come up with a plan to defend themselves.”

  As Cleotha related the one-sided battle, Delquan listened with his hands steepled in front of him, occasionally peppering him with specific questions. When Cleotha finished his report, Delquan rose from his chair and approached Cleotha with an evil look in his eye. Cleotha braced himself; he knew that he was a dead man for delivering the bad news. However, instead of a death blow, Delquan placed his hand on Cleotha’s shoulder in a conciliatory move, “It must have been terrible to have been surprised like that, after all, we have been very successful up to now. You also say that there was an African-American police officer directing the farmers during the attack? That’s very interesting Cleotha.

  “Sir, this town might be a bit too much for us. I think we should just spend the winter here and keep to raiding farms for supplies. We can always attack the town as they weaken.” He immediately recoiled within himself realizing that it was never advisable to question the plans of Delquan, especially in front of his inner circle.

  Delquan appeared to consider that idea he placed his fingers under his chin in contemplation. He lowered his hand and moved back to his chair and sat down. He snapped his fingers and two guards entered the room, flanking Cleotha.

  “Cleotha, you know the penalty for failure in this organization, but because I am merciful, and you have brought me valuable intelligence, I will spare your life. Guards, place him in the barn at half rations for a week. A bit of hard labor might bring a sense of clarity regarding our mission to the young brother.” The guards dragged Cleotha out of the room to begin his sentence out of the room and taken to the barn to serve out his sentence.

  Mustafa moved from his place in the corner and approached the desk. He sat down on a chair and touched the side of his face where young Jason almost blew his brains out and grunted in discomfort. The hydrocodone they found in the medicine cabinet of the farm helped dull the pain, but it was nowhere near the dose he needed to completely obliterate his pain. Mustafa collected his thoughts, “Sir, we have to take that town, it’s got to be full of resources we can use to survive the winter.”

  Delquan rubbed his head, he knew what Mustafa said was true, but the addition of combat trained people with heavy ordinance to the already difficult equation made his efforts all the more challenging. From Cleotha’s description of the weapon, it had to be an RPG, a weapon he had some experience with during his time in first Gulf War. A weapon such as that could make his army invincible against a lightly armed populace.

  He considered a softer approach; he would send a spy into town and see what they could find out. Any intelligence they could gather on the population and the supplies that they had stored would be valuable indeed. Most importantly, he needed to know where the weapons were so he could capture them for his own use. He broke concentration for a moment and looked at Mustafa, “My friend, find me a white girl, she is going to be our Jane Bond!”

  An hour later, Mustafa brought Mary Smith-Baker of Eau Clare, Wisconsin before his leader. Mary had the distinction of being one of Mustafa’s most loyal white women, taking care of his every need ever since they met on the UWM campus a couple of years ago. Mary was brought up in a sheltered, liberal household and was “allowed” to develop virtually on her own because her parents did not believe in shaping their child according to the dictates of mainstream society. In other words, they just took care of her basic needs and gave her no moral framework to guide her development. Without a framework, delineating right and wrong created a creature with a relative outlook and complete naiveté about how to get along in the real world. Her parents, not trusting the vile corporate indoctrination that most schools offered, home schooled her. Her parents, well off civil rights attorneys, convinced her that America was most oppressive place in the world where corporations and money ruled everything, and the little man was born to suffer, fighting for scraps. They taught her that the only way to create a truly equal society, where everybody was your brother and sister, was to tear the old world down completely and rebuild it in their pot hazed and naive image. Upon meeting Mustafa at UWMadison, Mary was quickly seduced by him and his narrative on how America oppressed his black brothers and sisters, and with her help, they could break the chains of this oppression and usher in the new world….blah, blah blah. Mary became one of his most dedicated followers, doing his homework for him, servicing him when he felt the need, and offering her organizational skills to his illegal enterprises. Despite her skills, she was never let into the inner circle because of her color, but she didn’t mind. Mustafa was her man, and Delquan was her President, the man who was going to change the world with his speeches and actions.

  Mary entered Delquan’s chambers and stood obediently in front of his desk, basking in the glow of her leader.

  “You sent for me Delquan?”

  “Yes my dear.” He motioned her to a waiting chair. “You see, I have need of your unique talents and skills at blending in.”

  Mary smiled and felt her heart flutter, “Whatever I can do to help the cause sir.”

  “Excellent, but I must warn you, I am going to send you to the town to act as a spy, it is vitally important that we find out a great deal of information in a short amount of time so you must be quick.”

  “Whatever the group requires sir, I’ll do it.”

  “Mary, I need you to find out how many people are in the town and especially where they stockpile their supplies, our survival over the coming winter depends on it!” Delquan looked at her with burning eyes to emphasize how important her assignment was.

  Mary melted under her man’s stare. “Is there anything else in particular I should be looking for sir?”

  Delquan raised an eyebrow “Why yes there is, I need you to identify the important people in town, it is imperative that we cripple their leadership so the rest of the town will fall into line quickly.”

  Delquan rose from his chair and rounded his desk and stood before Mary, taking her face in his hands “Mary; you also have to be prepared to use any force necessary in order to escape and report back to me.” Use force as a last resort, be stealthy if at all possible, but if you have to, you must be prepared to kill.”

  “For you, Delquan, anything.” She beamed at her leader with adoration.

  “You are so special Mary. If you do this successfully, you will find yourself in the inner circle that’s a promise!”

  He then led Mary to the edge of the farm and sent her on her assignment. Mary walked away with the purposeful steps of a warrior, her head held high and her shoulders back as she receded from sight.

  Both Mustafa and Delquan were betting that she would be welcomed with open arms, especially after she fed them her cover story of an escapee from the camp of raiders that were planning on attacking the town. She was to feed whoever would listen a load of misinformation regarding the strength and number of her compatriots, giving the enemy the impression that Delquan’s group is disorganized, weak, and close to collapse. Hopefully, the load of crap she fed them would either cause them to let down their guard, or come looking for them to finish them off. Either way, they would be un-prepared for a full on attack from Delquan’s forces. Delquan rubbed his hands together in anticipation of taking the town, clapped his compatriot Mustafa on the shoulder and walked back to the farm.

&
nbsp; Chapter 8

  Delquan Fleetwood Jones was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin in the early 1970’s at the intersection of North 35th Street and West Garfield Avenue. His mother, a hopeless alcoholic and drug user, gave birth to him right at the bus stop as she tried to make her way to Aurora Sinai Hospital at the edge of downtown to have her baby. The story made the papers, and his mother Keisha became quite a local celebrity for a moment. Social service groups rallied to her side due to her compelling and tragic story and made sure that little Delquan received piles of clothing, diapers, formula and money. Keisha promptly hocked all the stuff she got to support her habits. While she was out on a scoring run three weeks after she gave birth, she ran across the dope man she owed money to and was subsequently beaten to death with a tire iron. Delquan ended up at the mercy of local social service agencies. In other words, Delquan never had a chance.

  He was bounced from foster home to foster home all over Metro Milwaukee full of kids like him;whose “parents” were only in it for a check. None of these so-called parents ever noticed that Delquan, despite his tragic backstory, was neither stupid nor was he an easy victim. He had a mind that was always turning over and calculating the angles. He always had a plan on how best to survive in the circumstances he found himself in and seemed to rise to the top of the pecking order very quickly. As he grew, he became even better at calculating the angles and thrived despite being forced to live in the brutal conditions the average foster home.

  When he was 12, one of the various boyfriends his current “mother” Tylee was dating attempted to rape him. Darius Wexman was a child molester, drug addict, a drunk and a pimp. His MO was to find a vulnerable woman with kids, ingratiate himself with the family, whore the woman out, take all her money, and then molest the kids he determined weak. Even if the kids or the woman accused him, he usually had them at such a disadvantage that no authority figure ever believed them. So far, his plan with Tylee was working. He had successfully whored her out and taken control of her money. Now, as he studied Delquan his deviant hunger overwhelmed him.

  Darius approached Delquan , “Hey you little bitch, get over here!”

  Delquan looked up from his comic book and regarded Darius, “What do you want Darius?”

  Darius swept across the room and struck Delquan in the face with an open hand, knocking Delquan to the floor, and nearly knocking him unconscious.

  “Didn’t I tell you always call me sir you little bitch!” Darius stood over Delquan lining up for another strike if this young piece of shit disrespected him again. His vodka infused breath surrounded Delquan like a fetid fog.

  Delquan tried to look contrite, “I’m sorry sir, what can I do for you.”

  Delquan knew the look in Darius’s eye meant that he was going to get raped. Darius had raped his way through all of the boys in Tylee’s house, and Delquan realized it was a matter of time before he was next. Delquan knew that there was no way he could fend off the attack of a 200-pound man, so he carefully calculated his next move to both incapacitate Darius, and guarantee his movement out of the home.

  Darius stood over Delquan with a stern look in his eye, “A little bitch like you is good for nothing but sucking a real man’s dick like mine. You get over here and do what I tell you to do, or I’ll kill you.” Darius dropped his basketball shorts and pointed to his hardening member, “Suck it you little ho.”

  Delquan, putting on what he called his “scared face” and approached Darius’s crotch. He took Darius’s penis in his hand and opened his mouth.

  Darius was looking down and murmuring, “That’s right you little bitch, suck my dick.”

  Delquan opened wide and took Darius’s penis into his mouth. Before the first feelings of pleasure reached Darius’s brain Delquan bit down with all of his might and severed the head of Darius’s penis from the shaft. As Darius dropped to his knees screaming, Delquan and spit the head back at him as he sank to the young boy’s level. Darius curled up in a ball on the floor screaming for help when Delquan brought the vodka bottle Darius was drinking from down on to his head again and again until Darius stopped moving. The official cause of Darius’s death was a skull fracture, but the report did mention the condition of his penis as “severed by unknown means”.

  Social services covered the incident up because it would have exposed the incompetence, corruption and abusive nature of its leaders, so Delquan was quietly shipped to another home. Delquan’s next stop was with the Martinson’s. They were a dream couple in the foster parent racket, educated, wealthy, and willing to take any child that came available. Unfortunately for them, they happened to be white. The prevailing “wisdom” in the Milwaukee social service office was that white families couldn’t effectively raise a black child, so every effort was made not to place black children with white families. This practice was illegal of course, but that did not stop the placement coordinators from implementing their own brand of social engineering. However, in Delquan’s case economic and political circumstances created this situation, and young Delquan moved in. The Martinson’s were both teachers. James Martinson was a tenured professor of History at Marquette, and his wife, Belinda, was a math teacher at Rufus King High School. She recognized the intelligence behind young Delquan’s eyes and made every effort to tease it out and cultivate it. As a result, Delquan thrived, and became a model child through his teen years, respectful, hard working, and loving. At least this was the face he presented to his parents and the authority figures in his life. Beneath the veneer, Delquan was a master manipulator, moving both his peers and adults about like pieces on a chessboard. As a result, he moved through school easily, and had little difficulty projecting the image of engaged and interested student.

  Delquan had his first encounter with failure thanks to his own hubris. Through his parent’s connections, he was placed in Rufus King High School, which ensured that he would be sought after by the best colleges. Unfortunately for him, he also needed the best grades to get noticed, and he was not doing as well as he thought he should be doing in AP English. He knew he needed a better grade to ensure that top-flight colleges would clamor for him upon graduation, so he created a trap for one of his favorite mice.

  He knew that his AP English teacher, Mr. Kagan was a closeted gay man, so one day after school he turned on the charm and was able to trap him in a very compromising position during an after school meeting. He met Mr. Kagan in the Target parking lot by the school, and they went for pizza. During the meal, Delquan gave Mr. Kagan every possible signal that Delquan was interested in him. Mr. Kagan could not resist the young man’s charms and took the bait. After a session of kissing and some petting in the teacher’s car behind the pizza place, Delquan knew his hooks were firmly in Mr. Kagan. Delquan knew that once he threatened to expose Mr. Kagan, he would fall completely in line, or be personally and professionally destroyed. On Monday, Delquan began phase two. He stayed after class and put his plan in motion against the unsuspecting teacher. Delquan approached Mr. Kagan’s desk, “I enjoyed spending time with you after school on Friday Mr. Kagan.”

  Mr. Kagan blushed, “I enjoyed it too, Delquan, do you think we can meet again?”

  “I would like to sir, but I have a problem that only you can take care of for me. You see, there is the matter of this C plus grade you’re giving me, that simply won’t do. I need an A to get into Princeton or Harvard, and that’s where you come in. You will give me an A, and maybe I’ll forget about you sexually assaulting me in your car, how does that sound….baby.”

  Mr. Kagan blanched and nearly fainted. Delquan enjoyed watching this pervert twist in the wind thanks to his forbidden appetites. Mr. Kagan began to cry, tears welling up and running down his face, looking like he took a hard punch to the gut.

  “Delquan, no one will ever believe you, after all, I am a respected member of the faculty……”

  “Drop it Mr. Kagan, I’m sure that several of your colleagues suspect that you are gay, and the minute that a student like me makes a complaint, yo
u’re fucking doomed! Remember, I can be very convincing when playing a role.” Delquan smiled evilly.

  “Get out you little shit, just get out!” Mr. Kagan dropped his head to the desk.

  “Remember boyfriend, an A, nothing less, or it is curtains for you.” Delquan left the room smiling triumphantly, sure in the knowledge that there was nobody could stop him now!

  Unfortunately for Delquan, Mr. Kagan was a devout Catholic, at war with himself over his urges. He made his way to the Principal’s and confessed everything, sealing his fate as well as Delquan’s.

  Knowing that this was an extremely delicate issue that could ruin careers if mishandled, the principal made some calls. A meeting was set up between Delquan, the headmaster and his parents for the next morning to try to work this problem out with as little fuss as possible.

  The next morning, Delquan sensed trouble the moment he entered the office after being taken out of class, and found his parents, Mr. Kagan, a man from the legal department of Milwaukee Public Schools, and the Principal waiting for him in the office. The Principal began, “Sit down Mr. Martinson” and directed him to a chair in front of his desk.

  Delquan sat and looked like he had no idea what was going on. He tried to project the image of the confused and slightly concerned student.

  “What can I do for you sir,” he said in his most obsequious tone.

  “Delquan, it’s been brought to my attention that you and Mr. Kagan were involved in a rather sordid incident last Friday. What do you have to say about it?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir….Mr. Kagan, what’s going on here?”

  “Delquan, Mr. Kagan has already confessed to his part in the incident, it is upon your honor to admit yours.”

  “Sir, all I can say is Mr. Kagan is lying, I have nothing to do with him outside of his classroom!”

  The man from the Legal Department spoke, “Look here young man, we have statements from the employees at the pizza place that put you two together there on Friday afternoon. We also have a statement from another employee that saw you having sex with Mr. Kagan behind the building, so drop the act!”