by Gary Sapp
dangerous to not to kill here and now.”
The Warden moved with the speed and precision that men half his age weren’t blessed with. He was a blur. He was a thought. He was a ghost. He snatched a gun out of one of his own men’s hands, so that he now possessed two, and drew it on the area where Carter’s men had been forced to kneel. He shot and killed three of Carter’s men before they had a chance to get to their feet. One of the Black Knights took the aggressive posture of The Warden as if he were acting against Julian and twisted his frame and placed it so he could get a clean shot off at Bright. In his mind’s eye, Xavier could picture the lone uniform that had accompanied them down here targeting the gang banger and the remaining Peacekeepers aiming at him. So he used his small stature and strength to get underneath Julian’s man just enough to make contact with his elbow, pushing the gun’s barrel to the ceiling when the man fired off a round.
Meanwhile, the warden found his fourth target as one of Carter’s men had lifted himself off his knees, charged past a Peacekeeper and lunged at Julian. Time’s run out, Xavier thought, everyone within a hundred feet of the promenade had to hear those shots. Soon, this corridor would be overrun with trigger happy Georgia State National Guardsmen and State Patrol Men. God help us all.
Somehow the fifth and final hatemonger had stolen A Peacekeeper’s weapon from him, shot the original owner, the man next to him and fired a third round that grazed Xavier’s skull.
The bullet had struck the officer who had accompanied him instead, killing the man instantly.
Julian unloaded half a clip into the man, each bullet holding his frame up, so the one behind it could find its mark on the man’s torso.
A second or two later, Warden Bright moved like a man on a mission needed to; he instructed Xavier’s surviving Peacekeepers to place to place a gun that had been used in the exchange in a dead man’s hand. Initially, no one moved so Warden Bright explained again louder but slower in case anyone was having trouble comprehending.
The deed was done as Rose Dixon led a group of nearly uniformed men and women onto the already crowded promenade. She was struggling to catch her breath, but her face brightened when she saw that Donald Bright was very much alive.
“Sir, are you alright, are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, Rose.” Warden Bright squeezed the woman’s arm. “All of you lower your weapons.” He commanded to everyone in the room, Julian’s Black Knights in particular. “There are hostages up in the library who are waiting to be freed and a few people here who need medical attention, including myself.”
Rose looked around the area at the carnage. Blood had been splattered on the walls and the floors. Xavier had lost his toothpick. “What happened here?” She asked.
Warden Bright pointed in the general direction of the five dead men who once belonged to James Carter and kept emotion of what sounded like a rehearsed answer to Xavier. “These men were operatives of James Carter and perhaps Pandora. They nearly ambushed me and Xavier Prince when we entered this section. Inmate Julian Moore in his Black Knights had already signaled to me that they were prepared to lay down their arms, release the captives and return control of the prison to my control. But they rushed to our aid when they first heard shots down here and Julian Moore killed the last assailant who would have shot me or Prince without his assistance.”
Warden Donald Bright let his lies breathe and waited to see if anyone, including Xavier Prince, was stupid enough to deny his claims. Julian Moore swallowed a response he might have made and silently rolled his big eyes at Xavier.
Rose couldn’t stop shaking her head. “I never should have left you, sir.”
“There are plenty of questions that could use answers, Rose. I’m sure you don’t envy the report that I’ll have to write on this one.” His smile was infectious as Rose and a few others let out a chuckle. Xavier folded his arms instead. Circumstances dictate that I could never call you a friend, Warden Donald Bright. He could admire to collective way that the other man carried himself.
The warden and the gang banger stared at each other for a long time. This all wouldn’t be truly over, until Julian relinquished his weapon and called on his Black Knights to do the same.
Julian broke eye contact first and headed his gun to the warden, butt end first.
It took less than two hours after that moment to release the hostages from the library where they had been caged like animals, to return the control of Calhoun State Prison to Warden Donald Bright, and have all of the convicts return peacefully to their cells.
All of the convicts save for one, Xavier Prince, the One, the leader of A House in Chains.
He was released into the custody of his two grade school aged boys who had to kneel on the concrete and brace himself as the leap into his arms for an extended embrace in the alley that separated the prison walls from the highway that led far away from here. Both of his children’s mothers kept their selves at a polite distance away to allow him the moment with his children. He had never loved either of their mothers, but he had respected both of them more than ever before for their gesture.
As he walked down the alley with a son on each side of him he stopped his walking, to gander at a crowd that was massing at the end of the alley that seemed to be growing in number by the minute—by the second.
He must have seen a thousand People of Color standing there.
He handed his boys off to each of their mothers so they would not be separated in this throng of people. He blew a kiss at each of them and promised that he would be theirs…just theirs in the days to come.
He turned back to the crowd that began chanting his name. He inhaled a deep breath, wished for a cigarette or toothpick for which he had neither…and begun the long walk he’d always been destined to take.
Young kids hopped on the shoulders of adults for a better look at him. Women and even some teenaged girls giggled at him and hugged him and kissed him on his cheeks and jaws as he passed. He was lit up with the light from the flashes of cell phone cameras. Men his age and older waited patiently for their turn to shake his hand, pat him on the shoulder, or speak words of encouragement that the large crowd didn’t really allow him to hear.
His walk didn’t last as long as he might have imagined. Two very large Peacekeepers, who were dressed in the traditional garb of khaki suits, hoody’s and sneakers, plucked his small frame up as if he were a child himself and placed him on their shoulders. He had protested but his cries fell upon deft ears, especially when the crowd saw what was happening and roared louder and louder with their approval.
At long last, the crying out, the singing, the chanting of his name ceased long enough for him to speak to the mass, while he sat high on these other men’s shoulders. He asked, “Brothers and sisters, what do you see when you visualize our People’s future?”
He heard the mass yell back to him in near unison. “We see days with misery and pain.”
With the exception of the two Peacekeepers who continued to hold their leader up high, the crowd broke into the largest cheer so far…and then began to jump up and down in place.
Xavier Prince smiled for them and urged them on. That is what a leader sometimes has to do for his troops, even if he doesn’t feel like smiling. He found the four figures of his two boys and their mothers some distance behind them and his smile grew wider and more genuine.
Warden Donald Bright had joined Rose Dixon and several other uniformed prison guards at the foot of the alley. And even at this great distance, Xavier Prince could read the question burrowed on their faces and answered them silently with a look of his own. These People of Color before you are engaging in what we have come to know as the stomp.
It is the ultimate sign of pride, love of our people and cause…and the ultimate act of defiance against all of those who would dare try and hurt us.
Xavier Prince muttered a prayer on his lips that his people’s defiance would be enough to save them from what may be coming.
Angel
She stu
mbled, ever so slightly, as she sat down in one of the chairs that encompassed Interrogation Room Number Eight of The Fulton County Courthouse.
Dr. Angel Hick-Dupree had only three shots of Tequila the night before. That wasn’t enough to even start feeling good. She’d seen a shitload of patients running her practice down in Macon drinking heavier than that and with hours less sleep. She sipped at the mug of black coffee, and it’s just coffee only, she’d keep her word to Agent Sheridan about that part at least, and pulled her chair tight against the table.
She just needed an extra minute or two so she could stop feeling the world would stop spinning on its axis beneath her. I’ll be fine. I am fine.
The room was a box shaped, cool, had a piss poor paint job, and had her friend Special Agent Christopher Prince, Sheridan and Agent Tabitha Blue hidden behind the mirror that served as the classic two way glass like they did in the movies. I’m sure they’re still getting set up back there. She gathered together and then sorted the notes that the FBI wanted her to question Serena Tennyson about when she was brought in. No one saw my stumble. I’m fine.
Two female agents followed by two uniformed female officers had escorted the leader of Pandora into the interrogation room. Angel could hear the prisoner’s shackles with every final step she had taken before the door swung open and they
