Make America Great Again

Here is my first round story for the NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge. We were divided into heats and given a genre, a character and an object. From that point, you have a week to write 2,500 words or less. My prompts were action/adventure, a restaurateur and spearfishing.

Make America Great Again

By Leann’s estimate, they had about an hour before the sun rose, casting an unwanted spotlight. They needed to finish up and head back to the caves quickly, before they found themselves exposed.

She knew that the small game, berries, and mushrooms they had gathered were not enough to feed everyone. She had hoped for a deer, but it was rare they saw any before day break.

“Let’s hit the stream,” she commanded. “We need to fill these water jugs and hopefully spear some fish.”

When this group of outcasts had formed, Leann had no ambition of being a leader. However, once she stepped up to help with food, she realized she had that title, whether she wanted it or not.

The burden had grown as their party did. What started with three people had grown to nearly thirty. They had seen other “racial traitors”, but there was no room in their cave community for more. The greater the number, the greater the risk. As much as it pained Leann to not help everyone, the policy was to share a meal, offer a night's rest, and send them south where another camp had been established.

Just last week a government ICE Pursuance Party had been spotted less than a half a mile away. Leann’s group was careful to leave no traces, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to remain hidden from these raids, even with the well concealed caves - indiscernible among the rock structures. It was a stroke of great fortune that had delivered this sanctuary to this party of pariahs.

One of the regulars at her restaurant was a geologist before they were forced into hiding. Asim Mostafa had moved to South Carolina two years ago. Being Egyptian in New York City was becoming increasingly dangerous, even if he was an American citizen, so he decided to head south. After the freeze on all immigration and the promised border wall became a reality, racial tension had grown at a dizzying pace.

For a short time after Asim moved, Charleston wasn’t wrapped up in the president’s efforts to “remove those who threaten the moral and puristic fibers that run through American blood”. However, the president’s aspiration to make America white again had quickly blanketed the country, suffocating the protests of dissentients.

It was a Wednesday morning when the president declared that all Muslims were to be gathered and sent to internment camps. By Wednesday afternoon, the news stations were broadcasting image after image of Muslim men, women, and children being beat, shot and dragged; not just by the government search parties, but by their own neighbors. On Friday, the president addressed the country, thanking those who helped terminate and round up the vermin that were polluting the streets.

This is how Leann’s group first formed. She hid Asim and two of his friends in the basement of the restaurant. He talked about an intricate cave system east of the city that he had stumbled upon while looking for a salt cave for work. It was tucked away in a forest and he thought he could hide there. She wanted Asim and the others to stay, but he didn’t want to put Leann at risk for harboring Muslims.

Only a week after the initial declaration, a new order came down that “the risk of terrorist hiding among us will remain critical as long as we allow those of inferior races to remain in our streets, businesses, and schools.” Suddenly, the glowing brown, Bolivian skin she had always admired was now her death warrant. After the first brick was thrown through the window of her restaurant, she knew it was time to leave.

“Guys, let’s hit down here by these rocks. They extend out for better fishing,” Leann ordered.

The group of five walked down to the water’s edge. Three members of the hunting party began filling the water jugs while Leann took D’Andre, a newer hand of the team, out to the rocks to show him the best way to spear a fish.

“Ok, D’Andre,” Leann began. “You have to stay very patient when spearfishing. It takes a lot of concentration and a sense of humor because you’re going to miss more often than hit.”

Almost contradicting herself, Leann speared the first fish she went for, plunging the sharpened wooden tool into the slow-moving waters. She showed D’Andre how to let the tip reach the bottom of the shallow stream and wait a moment until the fish weakened its struggle. She threw the fish in the leather bag that hung across her body before walking to another rock, giving D’Andre space to try for himself.

Twenty minutes later, all the jugs were full and a total of seven fish had been pulled out of the water. In all of the excitement of spearing his first and only fish, D’Andre had slipped off the rock and into the stream. Luckily it was still early September and he wouldn’t be too cold on the walk back to the caves.

They were only five minutes from the cave entrance when D’Andre suddenly stopped.

“Oh, no! Oh, shit,” he exclaimed. “When I fell in, I set my spear on the rocks. I left it there. My spear is at the stream. What if a search party comes through?”

Leann could feel her heart begin to race, partial anger, partial panic. This was a risk they could not afford to take. It was a small mistake that could have major consequences for them all. She was mad at D’Andre for leaving it, but even more upset with herself for not taking inventory before they left the site. She slipped the bag off of her shoulder.

“You guys go back to the cave. I’m sure nobody will see it, but it is a chance I’d rather not take,” she assured them.

“No, I can’t let you go back,” D’Andre protested. “It was my fault, I should go.”

Leann looked at D’Andre, only nineteen-years-old, still wet behind the ears - both literally and figuratively - and knew this was something she needed to do herself.

“I’ll be fine. There and back. It’s a trip I’ve made plenty of times. Go start cleaning the fish and I will make a nice fish and mushroom soup when I get back.”

As she crept back to the stream, Leann made a mental list of the ingredients she wished she had from her restaurant: heavy whipping cream, garlic cloves, and oh, how she missed her spice rack. Granted, nobody complained about the meals she was able to scrape together for them, but she missed the finer things to which her palate was accustom.

She neared the stream, spotting the spear on the rocks. She remained hidden behind a tree for a few minutes, listening for voices or any movement. Once Leann was satisfied she was alone, she made her way out, retrieving the handmade fishing tool.

Leann didn’t have a chance to register the flash in her periphery before feeling a sharp sting in her thigh. She kicked her leg out, reacting instinctively. The attacker, a large dog, circled in front of her, crouched down and leapt. Leann had no time to think. She stuck the spear out and pierced the dog through his chest as he began to bound - sharp, white teeth bared.

The large German Shepherd lay in the water, whimpering softly as its crimson blood ran pink in the stream. She saw its collar and registered the real threat this dog posed. ICE Federal Agent it read, alongside the Federal Seal. Not only had she just critically injured a canine agent, she was sure there were more agents, human agents, close behind.

The puncture wound to her leg was bleeding, but the adrenaline coursing through her kept any pain temporarily at bay. She had to quickly decide her next move. If she stayed in the water and ran, she could mask any scent in case there were more dogs. Staying in the stream left her without any cover, though. She pulled the spear out of the dog’s chest, producing a heartbreaking cry from the animal. With the tiny bit of protection in hand and her hunting knife in her belt, she made a quick break for the tree line.

“Stop right there,” a voice bellowed.

Leann had just made it into the woods. She ignored the voice and headed for denser cover. Her injured leg couldn’t take her full weight, and she felt herself being slowed by the hobble in her run.

A shot rang out. She braced herself for a hit that didn’t come.

Leann could hear more voices behind her, but luckily no barking. She wanted to head north a bit and then cross over the stream, away from her camp and the neighboring camp south of them. She was several hundred yards into the woods when she spotted a large boulder. Leann hid behind it, trying to buy some time to catch her breath and plan out which way to get back to the stream.

Leann’s sprint into the woods had increased the bleeding to her leg, but she had nothing with which to wrap or even wipe the wound. The wind gusted, swaying the treetops. Sticks fell. Branches groaned. Leann held her breath, unable to tell if all the sounds were nature or if the cracks and creaks could be those of the men hunting her.

As she was about to peek out from her hiding spot, she heard the unmistakable sound of a walkie talkie call, followed by words she couldn’t make out. She couldn’t gauge how far away the agent was until she heard him answer.

“I’m headed southeast currently. No sign of the scum yet,” the gruff voice said into the walkie talkie. He was no more than ten yards from where Leann sat, frozen.

“Wait. It looks like there may be some fresh blood here,” said the agent.

Leann could hear him getting closer. She had no idea what she should do. Should she stay where she was and hope he didn’t find her? Should she make a run for it? Her biggest fear wasn’t being killed at this moment. She had heard stories of “racial traitors” being tortured for information on where others could be found. Asim, D’Andre, and the rest of her crew had become an extended family to her and she could not betray them. She also knew her spear and knife were useless against the agent’s gun.

The walkie talkie buzzed. “I’ve spotted something west of the stream. Please provide back-up.”

“Copy,” said the agent.

Leann didn’t realize how rigid she was until her body began to relax as the footsteps faded. She waited a few minutes after he was gone before peering over the rock. She was alone. Tears of relief spilled down her face. She knew sitting there crying was not a luxury she could afford.

Although she didn’t want to lead anyone to the caves, Leann decided to continue east since it was clear they were looking the opposite direction. Using the spear as support, she began walking. Her leg was screaming, but luckily the bleeding had nearly stopped. Now that she was calmer, she had a better grasp on her location. She had been hunting and gathering in these woods for months. She felt ashamed that in her panic she had lost sense of her surroundings, wanting to believe herself more level headed.

Leann headed up a hill and walked along the top of a steep, rocky drop off. Just ahead was a path that would lead her to a heavily wooded valley where she could stay hidden until the sun went down. Leann just hoped nobody from the group came looking for her. A stick snapped behind her, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“You stupid, bitch!”

Leann turned quickly, instantly terrified, not just by the weapon pointed at her, but by the look in the eyes of the agent holding it.

“That was my dog you killed! He was my partner for five years and you took him away from me!”

The agent’s rage was palpable, as though he had harnessed the immeasurable energy of the ocean and unleashed the crashing waves of disgust on her unexpecting stillness. The hatred he radiated became a physical force, pushing her closer to the unforgiving drop off.

“I’m sorry,” Leann begged. “I am. It was just a reaction.”

“Shut up,” the agent ordered. “You disgust me. You and everyone like you. This is the exact reason we are wiping you all out. We should have done this a long time ago.”

The agent pulled out a walkie talkie with his free hand, the gun never moving from Leann.

“I have her. As much as I’d like to waste her right now, I’ll bring the bitch back for questioning,” he said. A sick smile spread across his face as he turned his attention back to Leann. “We have some fun ways of making you animals talk. Now throw down your weapons.”

Leann took the spear and knife and dropped them over the edge and onto the rocks far below. Maybe somebody from the group would find them and know that she was taken. Then again, if she were taken she’d be tortured. As much as she would never want to give up their location, she couldn’t risk their lives. Looking at the agent, she began to laugh.

“I feel sorry for you,” Leann told him. “There have always been people like you, scared of those who are different; scared of what you don’t understand. Understand this. You can torture me. You can kill me. But there will always be more people like me.”

“Shut up,” he yelled. “Quit talking and put out your hands.”

“The hats weren’t lying. America will be great again, but not in the way you want. America will be great again because this tyranny is not going to last. I have hope for the change that tomorrow will bring. Love is going to win, not you,” Leann finished, taking a giant step over the edge.

As she fell backwards, she smiled, knowing that everything she said was true, she had kept her people safe. She shall not have died in vain. It was for love. Love wins.