inger Rodgers was she-bear mad.  She had found and cornered the guy who was driving the vehicle that carried away her family.  And she had toyed with him just about all she was going to.  He was a black Muslim convert, in other words, a dhimmi, a slave.  He had no authority whatsoever, being now only what all the blacks would be once the Muslims took over: slaves.

She had him backed into a corner with her M4 pointed at him.  He had already wet himself twice, the first time down to his knees.  He never knew what fear was until he converted to Islam and came under the ownership of a land owner in the mother country of Pakistan.  This owner had everything but killed the dhimmi, and now, he knew he was in deep trouble as the driver of the vehicle which carried away this she-bears family.

"I'll ask one last time.  Where did you take them.  What is your masters name?"  The dhimmi fell to his knees begging for mercy.  Ginger could not pull the trigger, and started backing away from him.  She was nearly to the end of the alley when she heard voices.  She instantly flattened herself against the huge pole by the building melting into the shadows.  To her total amazement, in walked two Muslims and approached the dhimmi still on his knees.

The dhimmi knew if he said anything the she-bear didn't like, she would kill him.  He also knew if he did not say what the Muslims wanted to hear, they would kill him.  He was in a very tight spot indeed.

The Muslim immediately started berating the dhimmi, demanding of him his presence here, why he had pissed himself, why he was on his knees, where he had been the last two hours, why he had not answered the master calls . . .

Ginger just stood quiet in the dark of the building behind the pole.  The Muslims were arguing between themselves heatedly and one pulled a pistol and aimed it at the dhimmi's head.  By this time he had quit sniveling, now knowing he was going to die, was just sitting there quietly.  Finally he said loud enough for the woman to hear, "the woman whose family you kidnapped, killing her husband her son, is standing right behind you with her M4 trained on you.  I suggest you turn around very slowly."

And Ginger added her own two cents worth to lend weight to the statement.  "Drop the gun and kick it over here . . . very slowly.  If you'll tell me where the girl is, I'll let you live."

The Muslims turned around and the one holding the pistol laid it carefully on the ground.  With his foot he shoved it toward her.  Now, the other gun she pointed at his waist.  She spoke again, "And you, the one with the checked diaper on your head.  Drop the scimitar and the pistol on the ground."

"I will not be disrespected by an infidel woman" he snarled and started raising a pistol up to bear.  Instantly she let a three round burst go over his head and stopped.  "Just for your information, I clean my guns with silver bullet oil.  Do you have any idea what that is?  Its pig fat.  Understand?  You're about to get defiled with pig fat.  What will your beloved goat loving Mohammed do with you when you reach paradise stinking like bacon?

A complete different look came on the Muslims faces.  "We can take you to the girl, but you'll never get her out."

"And you'll never get out either." the taller one sneered.

Ginger snapped.  She opened fire on all three men and spread their guts and brains all up and down the alley.  The AR 15 spoke peace and revenge for her.

She reached down and picked up the pistol and wiped it off on her pants.  It was her dads pistol.  The last time she saw it was when he attacked a couple of them by himself.  He wreaked havoc with that little thirty-eight.  He had gotten out of that scrap but died later at another location when he attempted to take out the Clintons.

The thought of them never left her mind.  She would take them out if it was the last thing she ever did.  But she wondered how the Muslims got possession of that pistol when her dad died attacking the Clintons.  It would bear looking into.

She eased out to the end of the alley and looked both ways.  The sun was nearly down.  While standing behind the big beam, she refilled the thirty round mags and seated a fresh one, released the carrier bolt.  Then she slung the M4 down her back, arranged her top over it and casually strolled out of the alley, and turned right down the street.

Hers had been a rough day and she was quite tired and hungry.  She wondered about the plight of Amy, her daughter.  She had found her husband and son along with their cousin, and had buried them by the road just a week ago.  She had a couple of old coins (pre 1965), in her pocket, and was too hungry to go back to her digs and try to sleep without something to eat.

She always dreaded going back to her hidey hole under the house.  It was all she could do to get through the hole in the rock wall.  She had cleverly leaned an evergreen tree against the wall to conceal the opening.  But discovery was always a possibility, and she dreaded the thought of someone else being there, waiting on her, going through her very meager belongings.  She hated worse than anything to lose the few silver coins she had hidden there as well as buried some provisions.

She headed to a little place on the corner that sold soup.  How they managed to stay in business was a well guarded secret.  But she liked the taste of the soup made in a huge old black kettle similar to the one her grandmother used when she was very young.  She used to stand and watch as her grandmother used it for washing, making soap, heating water for baths, deep-frying fish, rendering lard from hog fat and many other things.

Before she had her bowl of soup, she spied Allen Jones, an acquaintance of hers eating of the soup from the black kettle and waved.

She suspected the little old Mexican gentleman who owned the little place and doing the cooking was including anything he could catch in the soup.  But it wasn't half bad though.  She certainly could not tell if she was eating dog, cat or rat, snake or . . . human.  Didn't really care at this time in her life.  She was just happy to have enough strength to look one more day for her daughter.

"Any luck today?" he asked.  Although he had 'converted and was now a slave . . . or dhimmi, the young black man of about thirty five was the only one to have offered any leads on her daughter.  He had pointed out the one she had just killed as driving the Mercedes she saw Amy being driven off in.

"Nah, but maybe tomorrow" she responded tiredly.  She looked at him in his condition so much different from a mere three months ago.  He was missing two fingers from one hand, and his thumb and a finger from the other hand.  This was for the horrible infraction of holding the door open for a white infidel lady.

His eye was gouged out because his master thought he was looking at one of his wives.  She felt bad for him, but, "I'd rather be dead than living like that" she thought to herself.  Allen was much worse off than those who died because they would not convert.

Then he asked her if she had seen the family that was looking for her.  "Describe them to me" she asked inquisitively.

"Well, the woman was shabbily dressed but looked kind of strange in that her hair was perfect as were her nails.  Her husband had a marine cut and looked old enough to be her dad, and the man she claimed was her dad, was a very Chinese looking man who walked like a cat.  She had three pretty girls with her, all clean but their clothes were shabby.

"Did she leave a name?" Ginger asked"

"Sharon," came the answer.

"Which way did they go?"

Ginger jumped up deciding she could wait for the soup.  Eating was something one pretty at every opportunity because sometimes when you came around, there was no food to be had.  Nevertheless, she turned and headed down the street and was about to turn the wrong direction when she heard what sounded like a muffled pistol shot, then another.  She pulled her M4 around to bear and turned toward the sounds of an awful commotion going on.

She flattened against the wall and peered around the corner.  There was a rumble going on, and Sharon was right in the middle of it and she was tearing up jack!  Sung Wu was down and bleeding, the General was leaned back against the wall, and the three girls and Sharon were kicking some major butt.

Almost simultaneously, the men they were fighting went down.  Sharon leaned over each one and dealt each one a death blow.  Sung Wu would be OK if he could get to a Dr., and the General was just grazed on the side of his head, but had a concussion and was still bleeding heavily.

The ruse had worked.  They had been approached by the Muslims and two dhimmi's, six men altogether.  They were nice and respectful, and said they knew the location of some young girls, one with auburn hair.  Ginger, a redhead herself, had a daughter with auburn hair.  And the age was similar as well.  When they turned down the road heading toward the walled castle at the end of the street, two men pulled guns and each shot one of the men.

Then they turned on the women, and started mocking and taunting them, and telling them what they were going to do to the men and then what they were going to do to the women.  That didn't set too well with the women, and they all went into action.  At no time did the Muslims ever see their firearms or knives, both of which all four women were proficient in.

But in the space of less than a minute, the four Muslims lay dead and the black dhimmi slaves had ran off never once attempting to help the women or the men.  Ginger ran to the corner and hustled up a cart pulled by a tired old mule.  She held the mule while the women were trying to load the men on the cart.

Ginger was informed of the deal while she was trying to stop the blood loss on both men, and she accepted long before the details were related.  The deal was, if she would fly for them, they'd help her find Amy.

One of the girls was trying to calm the mule.  The smell of blood was really doing a number on him.  One of the dhimmi's who had run off appeared by their side and with him was another man, who looked military.  The dhimmi was saying "I know where the girls are being kept he said, but it's a big camp and some men are coming in tonight from ISIS.  In the morning, I'll take you there, if you'll take me and my friend with you away from here now.

Allen Jones, brother to the dhimmi that was attempting to make the deal, was there suddenly to help load the men up on the cart.  Allen yelled "let's get these men on that cart and get out of here!"

Sharon was now talking to Keywon, Allen's brother.  "Fine."  She then said "you got a deal.  But if you double cross me, I'll cut you up in little pieces.  Understand?"

"Understood," the dhimmi said as they hauled the men into the high ox cart.  "But we have go to hurry!!"

"That will work thought Sharon.  It will give us time to get some help and get these men in to Doc Wilson."

Within a block of where they'd stashed the truck with a guard, they blindfolded the dhimmi and his friend.  "You peek once and I'll castrate you."  They decided to cuff the dhimmi and his friend for good measure.  The friend was very quiet.  Sharon had an idea where she would keep the dhimmi and his friend for the night.  She would drop them off at the Hanoi Hilton and he could make do there.  Allen had stopped by the corner where they turned toward the truck and was just standing there.

Sharon looked back and motioned to him to come on!  At that, he ran full out and leapt on the truck as it pulled out.  Sharon blindfolded him like the other two.  Allen did not know the man they called Willie, but knew he had not given into the Muslims.  He had been shot and left for dead by the road.  When the kidnapping party drove off with his friends, he crawled into the ditch and was later found by Keywon, and nursed back to health as good as possible under the circumstances.

Once in the truck, they were running flat out.  Sharon made contact with the base and informed them of the situation, and they'd be dropping the dhimmi off and where.  Then she stated about the return trip in the morning, and that Ginger was with them.  The part about their planned raid on the camp where the girls were, they received an absolute "NO."  "Go silent."

Ginger said stop the truck, "I'm going back myself."

"Wait" said Sharon.  "Let's find out what's going on.  General, do you know anything about the camp for in the morning?"  He nodded toward the dhimmi.

Sharon told the dhimmis and Willie "we're going to stop your ears for a second."  The men shook their heads in agreement.  The other girls held her hands on the friends ears.  Then the General told them of the raid by Joe Orozco.  "We're to be in town and do the mop up after the explosion.  We don't know what's in the cart, but they are going to blow it up."

We'll be here too Sharon told Ginger.  Sharon removed her hands from the dhimmi, and the truck rounded the curve, and sped closer to the compound.  They would drop the men off first then have another man drop the visitors off.

Soon there were men with gurneys hauling the General into the hospital.  Sung Wu was the worst, and fading fast.  Doc Wilson started working on him right there, calling orders right and left, and they had the bleeding stopped and a drip installed before they ever took him off the truck.  The drip was already flowing life back into him.

Doc had never even given the dhimmis or their friend a second look.  They sat quietly, bound and blindfolded.  He stepped down from the truck, helping to lower Sung Wu to the gurney, and barked some more orders.  He looked at Sharon and said "I think he's gonna be just fine."

"That's Doc Wilson for you" the man said who was with the dhimmi.  Doc is the finest surgeon I ever had the pleasure of knowing.  Doc stopped and turned, looking at the man with the dhimmi.  Willie?  Willie Bates?  What are you doing here man?"

"My sister and I were captured along with two other black girls and two other black men.  To keep from being beheaded and thereby possibly having a chance to save the girls at a later time, my friend converted to that ghastly Islam.  In their hurry to get out of the area, I was shot and left for dead.  All the while recuperating enough to chance a way of escape.  I came to help the ladies in the fight with the help of Allen here.  I was brought to the skirmish when these lady marauders here were kicking some major booty.

I came back with my friend here when I couldn't get the doors open on the container where the women were supposedly kept.  But I heard no sounds from within.  Allen told of a girl with auburn hair, and I surmised she was the daughter of the lady with the red hair.  I tried to get them to come with me just now, but they would not for fear Sung Wu would die.  I promised to show them where they were in the morning.  If any of us are captured by the Muslims again, they'll kill us."

"Then why are you going back?"

"I gave my word man."

"You'll risk recapture because of your word?"

"That's the way of a Marine."

"Semper fi," Doc said, and headed in to attend Sung Wu.

Willie had an idea that his sis and intended bride had been placed in that container.  But he figured they were long dead by now.  What he would find the next day would be saddening and gladdening at the same time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

© 2000 - 2019

Back to Sir George's Writings
Back     Home     OP     Top
Chapter XXVI