Excerpt from "Brotherly Love"

Michael was out in the goat pen, when he saw them. There was a group of people running across his property to the north. Two women and 3 men were there and he didn't recognize any of them. He climbed on his horse and took off after them. As he got closer he saw that the men had automatic weapons and was pointing them at the women. Michael jumped off of his horse and brought down his trusty 30-06 lever action, from his shoulder. Two of the men had a woman down and was tearing her clothes off and the other was forcing the other woman to suck him, his gun to her head. Michael had seen enough. He took careful aim and fired at the standing man, blowing his brains all over the tree in front of him. The woman screamed and ran. The other two men jumped up and started spraying bullets in the direction where they thought that the shot had come from. Michael was no fool, however, having already moved to their flank. Using the noise of their chattering automatic weapons as a mask for the sound of his own, he killed them both. He ran up and collected their weapons and turned to see the women, running away. He called to the women and told them to stop. They knew that he was armed and so, they stopped running. Michael walked up to them, as they stood sobbing and begging him not to hurt them. Michael slung his rifle and asked them, in a quiet voice, "Are you okay?". They shook their heads yes, but, didn't say anything. Michael then said, "My name is Michael Morgan. I live here. What farm are you from and how did you get on my land?" The women reached in their pockets and handed Michael some cards with their pictures on them. "Here is my ID card, sir. I'm outta New Somaliland, sir. Please don't hurt us, we was just scared, sir." Michael looked at the IDs and saw that they were similar in make. They had an African spear and leather shield logo on them, a series of numbers, two different place names, one said New Somaliland and the other said New Egypt, and the women's names. Michael asked, "Where did you get these? What are these and what is New Somaliland and New Egypt?" They looked in amazement at Michael as the woman who spoke before asked, "Sir, you don't know about New Africa? You are not a Citizen?" Michael looked confused as he stated, "I do know about New Africa, that is where we are. But as for being a citizen, if owning land makes one a citizen, then I guess that I am." They still looked nervous and scared, but they raised their left hands and shouted, "New Africa, prevails, Citizen!" Michael laughed, because they looked like Nazis with their arms like that. Finally he said, "Uh, okay, ladies. Whatever you say. Well, since you need clothes and are probably hungry, come on down to the farm and we'll take care of you." They nodded and followed behind him, distantly.

Stephana saw the women behind Michael and shook her head. She saw that one of them was topless and thought, "Damned shameless hussies! They still try to get my man, even out in the boonies." When she saw that Michael had some other guns that wasn't his and was walking, not riding, she knew something wasn't right. She ran out the door, waiting for Michael to get closer. Michael saw his wife standing on the porch and put his right hand in the air, with his middle finger and his thumb together. Stephana knew that he had trouble and she, quietly , reached behind the door to grab her shotgun. Michael came up and kissed her, letting her know to lower her guard and pointed to the women. "Baby, I found these sisters up near the goat pens, being pawed upon by some sorry bastards. I sent the rapists to the next world and I brought these sisters for some clothes and food. Stephana looked at them with genuine concern and told them, "Come on, sisters. It gets chilly out here and you gonna want some good clothes to cover your asses. Let's go and get some." The women cracked a smile and giggled as they walked into the house.

Michael sat on the porch, looking at the stars and pondering upon the story that the women told. That night they had Paul Williams over for dinner and he heard the story, as well. They started off asking if Michael and Paul were elders and who was the Chief of the village. They finally figured out that no one understood, what they were talking about. As they wolfed down 3 helpings of dinner, with 2 extra helpings of turkey, as they said that they hadn't had meat in forever, the women talked about beatings, killings, starving and being forced do slave work on assigned jobs. They talked about the Council of Elders and the All-Father, located in a city that they called the Kraal. They talked about never having enough money, food and not having places of their own. They talked about people standing up to the Chiefs and the guards and how they were hanged, shot or even buried alive. They shook their hands and cried out in fear, when Stephana offered them some cherry vodka, after dinner. Turns out that, where they were from, alcohol and drugs are illegal and people have been beaten to death for possession of drugs. Plus they worked on a quota system, in their jobs. If they didn't meet their quota, which was most of the time, their food rations were cut. Michael and the rest couldn't believe it, food rations? So, Michael sat there and reflected on how, before the move to New Africa, he figured that some statist, socialist, uppity blacks, would try to take advantage of the situation and how they, obviously, accomplished that. So, New Africa was now divided up into to two sections. The section of individualist, free-market capitalist traders and the section of communist, no-market socialist slaves. As Michael looked out upon the fruits of his labor, he shuddered, as he wondered which one would last. Then he stood up and decided upon a course of action that would bring the issue to a head. He knew that he would no longer suffer any statists, telling him how to live his life, especially now that he knew what real freedom was. It was time for a meeting with the other farmers.

Michael served everyone beer or vodka and everyone sat down, in the grass. There were more people than Michael thought would come. It seems that Paul told everyone he knew, the story and they told others and soon people from as far south as the new California border had heard about the "New African Socialists" and their atrocities against the people. So, when Michael requested that everyone come and join him for a discussion of the situation, over 1 thousand men and their families showed up. Michael would be the next 2 weeks brewing and distilling to make up the stock he lost, but, to him, it was worth it. When everybody finally settled down, Michael stood up and asked to speak.

He said, "My name is Michael Morgan, for those who don't know me. I called you all here to discuss this madness happening in the cities of New Ghana, New Somaliland, New Egypt and New Ethiopia. I know that you all have heard the stories of the goings-on there. I know how I feel about it, but, I wanted to hear how you all felt, as well. I would just like to tell you a little bit about what I think. You know, I remember what it was like, living back in the US. I used to have so many ideas for jobs, good honest work, that because of some bullshit law, I couldn't do. I remember the Social Security tax, income tax, and the state and city taxes. I remember gasoline being 20 or more cents extra, per gallon, because of taxes. I remember our "Black Leaders" marching us toward unifying under the banner of Communism and Socialism, while they got fat book deals, honorary doctorates, big university salaries and lived like kings. I remember the IDs, Birth Certificates, Passports, Social Security numbers and Drivers' Licenses. I remember the dollar that bought less and less, every year. Most of all, I remember being scared, that I would never get to live as I wished, not as some bureaucrat or politician wished that I live. Now I'm here, in New Africa. Here, I don't have a number or license. Here, I can be called whatever name I wish. Here, I can do whatever constructive thing, that I put my mind to, as there is no law to stop me. Here, our children will be born with no license, certificate or number. Here, my labor benefits me and only me. Here, no one takes from me to give to you, or vice versa. Here, I don't worry about the "majority" voting me out of house and home, as there is no voting. Here, my land is MY land, I don't pay a "tax" to use it. All of these things I am extremely happy about. However, I cannot enjoy it, like I did before. I cannot sip my vodka, knowing that someone else is being beaten for doing the same thing. I cannot enjoy my harvest, knowing that someone else's harvest is being stolen from them, to feed others. I cannot enjoy my freedom, knowing that someone else is in slavery. Most of all, I cannot stand by, while the same bastards who worked to destroy our lives in the US, transplant their nasty black roots here to New African soil! I cannot speak for any of you, nor would I try. I don't want a vote nor do I care if you drink my liquor and go home. But, from this day, until they fall, I will raid those cities and free as many people as I can. This is a hard decision for me, as I am one who believes in tending my own garden. Here, though, we finally have a chance to be free, really free, and anyone who hinders that, deserves what he gets. Thank you, everyone." There was complete silence, as everyone digested what Michael had said. Then the field erupted in a roar of approval and cheering. People started to tell each other how they felt about the situation and what they thought of Michael's plan. There was no consensus, nor was there an attempt to obtain one. Yet, those who liked Michael's plan, started gravitating toward the crowd around him, listening to him elaborate. Others drank more vodka and went to their tents. There were others who organized around other brothers who had plans similar to Michael's and elaborating on their plans to help the New African city-dwellers. Soon enough, the seed of a resistance was born. The Outlanders were being born.