Excerpt from Thomas Sparrow’s crime noir Northwoods Standoff.
Dedicated to the brave souls of the Occupy movement. May their resolve maintain.
PART EIGHT
He moved in so close I could smell the marijuana on his breath. He began to recite, in a rhythm that seemed to fit perfectly with whatever song was drifting out of the tuner, his warning. Standing above me, body pulsating, he looked into my eyes.
“I can see it in you, Randy Slade, and feel it in your spirit. You are one of us. You are simpatico of a dying breed; a breed I call the Primitive Mystic. A breed that is both ancient and evolved at the same time. There are things you feel and know that you keep secret from the world. I can feel it in you. I sense it like I sense the pulse of the earth. One does not need to be Native American to know the pulse of the earth. Many blacks have the ability in their blood, but they’ve been living too long in the cities, away from their homeland. Here, in North America, most have lost their connection to the earth.
“There are others, white men such as you, who feel like we do. Men that observe all around them the slow but steady destruction of all that is wild and sacred. You feel the pain in your soul, but know not from where it comes. You seek to drown it in alcohol or run from it with hard drugs. But the white man’s powders and potions never give lasting relief and lead to death and destruction. At the very least, the mind and spirit become weakened.”
To which, I shakily responded: “I’ve seen you drink rum and cokes, and a few beers once in a while. What about that? And you smoke a ton of fucking pot.”
“A few drinks never hurt a French Canadian, Randy,” Roy said, suddenly looking perfectly normal and straight. “Got to give the devil his due. Some drugs help you see and feel, while others put a cloak over you. A shroud, perhaps… take away your senses. Have you ever seen me drunk?”
“No, I guess not. But still….” My longtime toxic ways were hurting my brain. I tried to choke back the knowledge but couldn’t.
Dark and brooding electric guitar came creeping in from the living room and Roy slipped back into character, eyes glowing like a wolf in the firelight. “Listen to me now, very carefully,” he said, “it’s getting late.” Jimmy Page’s axe growled and spit. “We are at a dangerous time in the history of the world, especially in North America. The very same forces that nearly wiped out the Indian nation and then enslaved us to their culture are stronger now than ever. The spirits of the blue-belly soldiers and the Indian killers and the buffalo butchers are all coming back together again for one final push at world domination.” A guitar howled and moaned. “Today they are cops, generals, corporate greedheads and right-wing Jesus freaks duping the common working man into being their unwitting foot-soldiers. A lot of ’skins have been made into fertilizer because of Jesus, we all can attest to that.”
He paused for breath, looked toward the heavens and then came back into the kitchen. He sat down on the kitchen counter, feet dangling above the cracked blue linoleum.
“As surely and as effectively as a swarm of locusts, they are preparing to denude the earth of all we hold sacred. The railroad barons and the mining companies are back together with the politicians who looked the other way the last time while their pockets were being filled with blood money. These are reptiles. You have the Reptiles leading the Locusts, and the Cockroaches there to feed on the remains. The cycle is starting all over again. You need look no farther than the president this country just elected in a landslide vote. Reagon used to play an Indian-killing soldier in the movies, for fuck sake. Now he’s waving his flag for all to see. This man will rally the Locusts for one last run at whatever is left out there to consume. They’ll cut down the forests and dam up the rivers and poison the air trying to satisfy their insatiable appetites. And it will be done so smoothly that few will notice until it is too late. Those that speak out will be effectively silenced.”
(To be continued)
