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   Chapter 23 No.23

Prey World - Organized Rage By Alexander Merow Characters: 5374

Updated: 2018-07-06 12:02

Sub-governor Medschenko took the "omnipresent terrorist threat" as an opportunity to increase the surveillance of the larger cities of Belarus with more cameras and new scanning machines. Within just one month, the Freedom Movement of the Rus broke down under the massive pressure and became a desolate bunch of scared men and women. All its leaders had successfully been isolated, arrested or even executed.

Citizens with secret symphaties for Artur Tschistokjow who still had jobs and families, retired into private life now – deeply shocked.

Who had ever been at a meeting of the Rus, was hoping that the authorities had not noticed it, otherwise it meant losing the job, getting a blocked Scanchip or going to prison.

Even Frank and the other men from Ivas were disturbed and scared. Wilden wailed for days and regretted his careless and arrogant behavior. They could only hope now, that their contacts to Artur Tschistokjow could not be retraced and that the name of their village would still remain a secret. And the following weeks should become a true nightmare.

"Damn!", cried Frank, almost falling from the old chair in his barely furnished living room, staring in horror at the TV screen.

"Alf! Come here! Hurry up!", he shouted and breathed rapidly.

B?umer sneaked out of the bathroom, where he had previously browsed some old magazines, yawning loudly.

"What`s up?", he asked annoyedly.

"This morning, the city governor of Moghilev, Roman Khazarov, was shot in front of his house. They say that the killers are members of Artur`s movement!"

Alf sat down on the couch, panting, while the shrill voice of the television reporter echoed through the room. She said that three young men had been arrested by the police. Then television showed some pictures of a house search and pamphlets of the Freedom Movement of the Rus.

"Now they have, what they needed!", moaned B?umer and hold his head. "The media will hype the whole thing and the cops will finally have a justification to fight tooth and nail against Tschistokjow`s organization."

"Yes, right...", answered Frank and cursed loudly.

They went to Wilden, who had not heard of the incident so far. He had spent the previous part of this day with sorting his old books and reacted on the bad news with evident nervousness.

"From now on, as they said on TV, they will execute every member of Artur`s movement they can catch – as a terrorist!", said Kohlhaas anxiously.

"They would have done it sooner or later anyway - and they already do so, partly. However, now they have a moral justification for such brutal measures against our people", muttered the village boss thoughtfully.

"How many Rus actually know about Ivas?", asked Alf then, glaring at Wilden.

"Thus, only Artur and his closest fellows", returned the older man a bit uncertain.

"And that Viktor from Grodno! Julia has told him about our village. Moreover, many others probably know about this base, because you have talked to them. I know it, Thorsten!", yelled Frank at the village boss.

"Well, I could not imagine that one day...", stammered the man, trying to find an excuse.

"Shit!", hissed Alf and followed Frank who was leaving the house. The next days were ruled by anxiety and nervousness, and it was unlikely that this condition would change soon.

"Have you gone insane?", shouted Artur Tschistokjow and his voice echoed from the dark cellar up to the street.

Peter Ulljewski held a trembling young man named Martin Malkin, the head of the group of Moghilev, in his strong hands and shook him. Then he pushed him against the gray concrete wall of the room.

"We thought...", stammered the frightened young activist and held his head.

"Have I allowed this?", hissed Tschistokjow.

"No, but...but the cops have shot two of our men. For no reason!", said Malkin sheepishly.

"Fuck! Now tell me, what has happened in Moghilev?", growled Peter.

"Some of our comrades were in a pub in the inner city, where they got some troubles with a few Azerbaijanis. Meanwhile, they live in the east of Moghilev – en masse!", explained Malkin.

"I know that! Go on!", interrupted him the leader of the Rus.

"Yes, and the conflict heated up. The Azerbaijanis finally waited on the street in front of the pub and drew knives and brass knuckles, it were six of those fucking wogs. Then our men came out of the pub and there was a first fight. One of us was wounded by a knife and the wogs ran away to call their friends. After half an hour, they came back with about 30 further men. Meanwhile, our comrades had also rounded up some other Russians who wanted to help us against that scum.

Shortly afterwards, two police cars arrived and the fucking cops accused our people that they were to blame for the dispute and wanted to instigate riots. Those damn Azerbaijanis could just walk away and the cops didn`t touch them!"

"Did the policemen knew that you are members of the freedom movement?", inquired Artur and nervously stroked through his hair.

"No! Of course not! Some of our men were very angry about the behaviour of the cops and yelled something at them. Then followed a brief scuffle and the cops suddenly shot around without hesitation. My best friend was hit in the face and died instantly, another was shot in the stomach and bled to death on the street."

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