Charlie's Requiem: Democide by Walt Browning, Angery American Read Free Book Online

don’t get used to it,” Weed retorted. “At least not around me. I ain’t gonna keep following you around on your adrenalin trips.”
    Beker smiled and placed his bag on an empty counter. He opened the flap and retrieved the gun case.
    “Oh man,” Weed exclaimed. “You got a pistol! A Beretta! I’ve shot one of these before.”
    Weed pulled the handgun out of its case and held it up for inspection. He grabbed the top of the gun and pulled it back, locking it in place.
    “You got any bullets?” Weed asked.
    Beker removed a cardboard box and Weed greedily grabbed it from him.
    “Hey, that’s for Taurus!” Beker chided his companion.
    “No problem, amigo! I just want to load it up.”
    Weed grabbed one of the handgun’s magazines and began to press bullets into it. Beker watched with fascination as each bullet was pressed and then pushed rearward, locking them into place.
    “Here,” Weed said. “Load this one.”
    “I don’t know how,” Beker replied.
    “You ain’t ever shot a gun?” Weed asked.
    Beker just shook his head.
    “Well, we can’t shoot it here, so you ain’t gonna be able to learn to aim, but at least you can see how to load it.”
    Weed demonstrated the way this handgun functioned. He showed Beker how to place the bullets in the magazine. He taught him how to put the magazine into the pistol and release the slide so that it was ready to fire. He showed him where the safety was located and let the young man handle the weapon.
    “This is heavier than I thought!” Beker said.
    “Yeah, it’s an all-metal gun. I used to rock a Glock. It’s lighter cause it’s made of plastic.”
    The two men were practicing with the handgun when Weed noticed the three agents returning to their HUMVEE.
    “Beker!” He said suddenly. “They’s ‘goin back to the HUMVEE. We better move, cause when they find out we stole one of their guns, all hell’s gonna break loose!”
    They scurried down the hall, moving away from the glass doors they had been using to watch the parking lot. They found the southern doors broken just like the ones they had entered on the north side of the arena. They sprinted through the shattered glass and crossed the street, advancing quickly down an alleyway, moving as rapidly from the scene of the crime as their legs could take them.
    As they ran, both men giggled and pushed each other, high on the rush of their caper. Within minutes, they were well on their way back to their brothers, but now they brought back goodies that were sure to put them in Taurus’ good graces.
    I guess the kid knew what he was doing! Weed thought. Taurus is gonna be happy when we show him what we got!
    Both men grinned as they darted through the abandoned cars that lined the side streets of the West Orlando neighborhood, high on the success of completing their assignment. Taurus was going to be pissed that their white comrades had been killed, but happy with the treasures and information they brought back. Not a bad day’s work for the brotherhood!

Chapter 5
    “If human beings are fundamentally good, no government is necessary; if they are fundamentally bad, any government, being composed of human beings, would be bad also”
    — Fred Woodworth
    W eed and Beker moved through a poor black neighborhood just a mile or so from the arena, returning to the jail where the brotherhood had been assigned rooms formerly used by the prison’s guards. Called the Parramore Historic District, it was specifically developed in the 1880’s by then mayor James Parramore “to house the blacks employed in the households of white Orlandoans.”[
    While some of the homes had been gentrified, most of the homes they were passing had already been in disrepair. Now, having been abandoned in the early days of the blackout, their appearance could only be described as one step above a shanty. Front doors were left open and more windows were shattered than not. Cars, bicycles and all forms of trash were scattered throughout