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   Chapter 24 No.24

Prey World - Organized Rage By Alexander Merow Characters: 5528

Updated: 2018-07-06 12:02


"Yes, and then?", persisted Artur.

"I haven`t been there. It`s just what the others from Moghilev have told me. However, the rest of our men ran away."

"What has it to do with that Khazarov?", screamed Peter from the side and pressed Malkin against the wall.

"Damn! They have killed my best friend Alexander, with whom I have grown up. In the following days, all of us were fuming with rage. Some of our younger men called for a campaign of revenge. Someone had to pay for all this! Someone who is responsible for all that shit. We had so many problems with the cops and these gangs of foreigners and..."

"And then you have arranged to gun down the city governor?", shouted Tschistokjow.

"No! Three of our guys have made it on their own!"

"Bloody hell!", grumbled Artur, kicking against a wooden box which burst with a loud crack.

"I should shoot these idiots! Since when are things like that done without my permission? Since when are things like that done at all - by members of my organization? We are freedom fighters, political activists – and no terrorists!", hissed the blond man.

"Now they will hunt us down like mangy dogs. Just wait and see!", muttered Peter Ulljewski and turned his back on the others.

Artur`s best friend and longtime supporter had correctly assessed the situation. In the following weeks, the media reported almost daily about new arrests and it still became worse.

The three young assassins from Moghilev who had quickly been found by the police, were convicted in a spectacular show trial and finally hanged a few days later. Many ordinary citizens who had viewed Artur Tschistokjow as some kind of reformer, or even liberator, became uncertain now, because the media incessantly presented him as a leader of a "terrorist gang" or called him the "most dangerous maniac of Belarus". Ultimately, some parts of the Freedom Movement of the Rus just broke down under the increasing pressure and the structure of the organization fell into ruin.

Meanwhile, Artur Tschistokjow had been brought to a secret location, somewhere in the north of the country, by his friend Peter. And he never left his hiding place again.

Apart from that, the inhabitants of Ivas tried to live their lifes and hoped that nobody would ever recognize the true character of their village. In the meantime, Frank sank in a state of lethargy and sadness. Soon the winter of 2033 came over Lithuania and the first snowflakes fell from the sky. Occasionally, Kohlhaas asked Wilden, whether he had heard something of Tschistokjow, but the village boss always reacted with a sorrowful shrug of the shoulders. The only positive news came from Japan, because Wilden telephoned with Mr. Taishi from time to time. In the Far East, presid

ent Matsumoto was building up his country and had consolidated his reign. This was the lone little flicker of hope in these dark days.

But there was one member of the Freedom Movement of the Rus that still came to Ivas. It was not Artur Tschistokjow, who was still hiding somewhere in Belarus, hoping that the storm would die down again. No, it was Viktor, the handsome, athletic leader of the group of Grodno. He visited the Wildens several times on his own - with a special interest for Julia.

The village boss found the young man quite sympathetic, although he was not all too pleased if visitors from the outside still came to the village. His daughter, however, was pleased, very pleased!

She had invited Viktor, just as she had promised it at the rally in Schtewatj. One day, Frank saw them talking and laughing loudly, when they walked through the village. He did not believe his eyes.

"What the hell does that pretty boy do here?", he muttered silently, when Julia and Viktor crossed the street.

In the last weeks, Frank had ignored her in annoyance, because of her little flirt with the Russian at the rally in Schtewatj.

"I could ask the pretty fucking boy, if he has heard something from Artur", he thought angrily. "But he is certainly not here to talk about politics. That arrogant idiot..."

Julia saw Frank from afar and waved her hand, but the young man just gave her an insincere smile and went into a side street.

"Stupid slut!", he hissed quietly.

This unpleasant sight significantly increased Frank`s depressed mood in the coming days and weeks. He spent the winter in his hardly heated house and rarely visited the Wildens. Soon, he had found the alcohol as his new best friend and asked John Throphy to bring him still more beer and vodka from his trips to the neighboring regions.

In the bleak winter nights, Frank`s nightmares often crawled out of the dark corners of his subconsciousness again. More often than in other times of the year. Sometimes, the strange visions which besieged Frank`s skull in the black of night, were bizarre and vague. Occasionally, his parents, his sister or even Nico appeared. Apart from that, a lot of other confusing things distressed his mind. One vision still remained in his memory for many days.

As he walked through an unfamiliar city, he saw a long line of people who were chained together. Men in gray shirts drove them forward, leading them out of the town to a large field. Frank walked along beside the line of people and did not know what to make of it. After a while, he had reached the end of the line and suddenly stood in front of a long-drawn-out stone wall.

"Forward! The next!", yelled one of the uniformed men and led some of the people to the wall.

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