The Human Race

avid Wilson sat alone in the bus terminal, typing on his laptop computer. Well, to be truthful, he wasn't alone, thanks to the large, fat black woman sitting behind him, accompanied by a smaller, thinner black woman. Two large white men, possibly Italian, discussed the stock exchange two seats down, and a thin asian girl, about 15, sat alone just across from him. The bus terminal staff, a total of two, walked about behind the counter, trying to look busy.

David himself was oblivious to these people, though, as he was currently writing an in-depth report on the current situation his organization was in. As a counter-measure, he recommended full action be taken against the blacks, for the riot they had recently started, and then participated in. Such things could not be tolerated, they were like a dragoon, preying on innocent...

Shit. He had spelled dragon wrong. "What the hell is a dragoon?" he thought to himself in disgust.

Snapped out of his concentration, his head came up from the small screen, and he heard his neck crack, feeling the full effect of his 51 years. Behind him, the two black women talked about a precocious son. The Italian men had switched from talking about stocks, to talking about an attractive woman one of them had met two days ago. The young asian girl had stood up to get a candy bar from the vending machine.

The air in the small bus terminal was beginning to blister his skin, as the small air conditioner had broken down only 20 minutes ago, the whole place was beginning to become rather humid and torturous from the heat. The cheap, green, bus terminal wallpaper was actually beginning to peel. He tried not to breath the air too deeply, the smell coming off the people in this room was disgusting.

All this made him realize three things. Number one, he had to pee. Number two, the battery in his laptop was running short on power. And Number three, the man he was supposed to be meeting here was late.

To solve these problems, he first resolved to find the solution. He corrected his spelling mistake, saved the file, and turned off the computer. Reaching for the large battery connected into a slot in the back of the laptop, he pulled sharply. The battery left the slot easily, and he then placed it on the seat beside him. Next, he reached into his black leather laptop case, and pulled out the compact, portable battery recharger, extracted the spare battery from the charger, and promptly slammed it into the back of the computer. He then pushed the spent battery into the charger.

He placed all these devices into the laptop case, zipping it up securely. He stood, felt his back crack, and picked up his laptop, even as he headed for the bathroom. He bumped right into the asian girl, who let a small cry, unnoticed by the rest of the bus terminal patrons.

"Damn." He pushed the girl off of him, into her seat, and moved off, trying not to notice how dirty he felt now. He would have to get some soap on his hands. "I could use it, anyway."

Moving into the bathroom, he breathed in the fresh air, feeling the constriction in his chest loosen up, and he took another breath. Even though this whole bathroom was very, very dirty, it was still cleaner than the bus terminal waiting area. The air was cleaner in here. The whole waiting area smelled like shit.

He unzipped his pants, and began to pee into the urinal, just as he heard the bathroom door open, and the click of expensive shoes over hard bathroom floor tile, accompanied by heavier, stronger steps, indicating the man had chosen not to travel alone. He did not have to turn his head to see who it was, he knew already.

"Hello Mr. Wilson. I trust the report is complete, and in full order? Have you requested everything we need for the mission to succeed?"

"Shit. Right in the middle of my piss." "I can't talk now, I'm busy here, sir."

"Yes, yes, of course. But you will join us in the lobby for a chat?" the man's voice sounded high and nasal, and David tried to ignore the fact that it sounded like a squeaky little mouse that had been inhaling helium. He winced as the man's voice rose slightly, but then he stopped talking. David spoke.

"Could you wait in your car? I'll join you there. The lobby is... unpleasant. I don't like the smell of those people." he finished peeing, but the man did not seem to notice.

"Yes, of course Mr. Wilson. I will be waiting in the red Saturn. You have five minutes. If you don't show up, I will assume you don't want to do business with us."

The man left, his hired muscle tracking along behind him, and as soon as David heard the door close, he zipped up his pants, and went over to the sink, washing his hands as he stared into the dirty mirror. His face stared back, a face he barely recognized. He looked young for his age, fifty-one, barely a wrinkle, save for crows feet near his eyes, which were brown and rimmed with thin, black spectacles. A few tell-tale lines circling his mouth also helped to tell the tale of his age, but they were thin and barely noticeable. Smooth, white skin. But his hair was almost a solid streaking of white, with only a few threads of dark black laced throughout. His hair, as usual, was dreadfully curly in the back and puffy at the sides, but straight and smooth on top. Parted towards the right, and badly in need of a comb, a trim, and a shower.

He finished washing his hands, and tried to wet down the mess on top of his head. He was lucky, he had not yet, as far as he could tell, begun to go bald, so that his whole head was covered in white, striking hair. It would probably be so until he turned 60.

He picked up his laptop from near the urinal, just as a tall, lanky black man walked in, and stared straight at the short old man by sink. He smiled warmly, proceeded to break an unspoken rule all men have when using a public washroom. Never speak to anyone else in the bathroom.

"Say, that's quite a good bit of hair you've got there, old-timer." said the 30-something black man. David said nothing.

"I hope my hair looks as good as yours when I get your age. Wow." the black certainly seemed friendly enough, trying only to inform David that he believed him to be worthy of admiration and respect for his age.

David hoisted his computer, being careful not to touch the negro as he quickly exited the bathroom, trying not to breathe the air too deeply.

Joseph Steinbrenner sat in the spacious, red Saturn, looking out towards the bus terminal, waiting for the shape of the short, white haired man to exit the front door and walk towards the Saturn. His hands fiddled nervously with the dials on the car stereo, and the CD player above it.

He finally managed to turn on the CD player, and the warm, soothing sounds of one of Beethoven's symphony's filled the car. The music was chosen for the origin of the composer. Germany. It would be playing when Mr. Wilson entered the car, and it should be acceptable to him.

The two large, muscular men in the backseat should also be more than acceptable, both being the large, blond haired, blue eyed, 'perfect' human being, which Adolf Hitler had described in his book, Mein Kampf, which Joseph knew the two men in the back, himself, and Wilson too, had read well over seven times. Joseph realized that with his hair and eyes being so close to brown, he was not exactly a perfect being, as Hitler described, but neither was Wilson. "Fuck, for that matter, neither was Hitler himself. The damned guy was short and dark."

Joseph knew that if Wilson knew his real name, and his real profession, and that of the two men in the backseat, he would probably be highly frightened and angry. As it were, the name Wilson knew him by was Mr. Jeffries, an American born Aryan activist who didn't take bullshit from anyone. Truthfully, though, Joseph Steinbrenner was a German born Jew who could disguise his accent and looked, quite convincingly, like an 'ideal white man'. His hair was a very dark shade of blond, and his eyes were brown, his jaw square, he was only 5'5, but still an inch or two taller than Wilson.

Joseph's throat hurt. The effort of talking without a German accent in this sweltering heat gave his voice a high, nasal quality, and he winced as he rubbed his aching neck and throat.

Mr. Wilson believed him to be the head of the Aryan activities in Los Angeles, but he was really a cop from New York who had been tracking him for almost 2 years. After getting a tip from another Aryan Nation member, he was able to track Wilson here, telling him that he was in need of his services as a valuable member of the Aryans. The years of hard work and toil were about to pay off.

Of course, being a member of the Aryan Nation was not, unfortunately, a crime all it's own, but the NYPD, and the LAPD, working in conjunction with the FBI, and the CIA, had reason to believe that Wilson was attempting to work his way up the chain of command, and get his plan to be put into effect. Soon, very soon, the FBI believed, Wilson would not only launch an attack on the 'coloured' peoples of the United States, using a well laid connection of contacts that the FBI was still trying to find, but the United States government itself. It would be a second Civil War, if all went well for Wilson and his cohorts.

The two enormous men behind him shifted uncomfortably, and informed him that Wilson had left the building. "This is it!" Joseph thought nervously, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Joseph could hear the two men in the backseat carefully unclasp the snaps on their gun holsters, ready for Wilson if he should become agitated and attack Steinbrenner. Joseph figured that wouldn't happen here, but later, when they went to meet the rest of the 'Aryan Nation' which was really about sixty FBI, and LAPD agents gathered into an abandoned factory on the west-side of town, where Wilson would be arrested.

With all this preparation, it would be easy to assume that nothing could possibly go wrong. But of course, once you get into that mind-set, Joseph knew, trouble had a way of rearing it's ugly head.

Wilson climbed into the car, and Joseph tried to control his anger for the man. "Stick to the mission." he thought, and it renewed his resolve.

"Alright, Mr. Wilson, I trust everything is in order?"

David looked about nervously, and then back to Joseph's face. "Is this car secure, Mr. Jeffries?" he asked, trying to ascertain if there might be a bug somewhere in the car, possibly planted by the LAPD. He realized that Jeffries was probably the only one he could trust. What David didn't know, of course, was that Joseph himself was wearing a wire.

"Of course! My own men have checked it out themselves." Joseph gestured to the two muscular men in the back, who David didn't know were cops. "I assure you, we can talk safely here. Please continue."

"Yessir. We are still receiving information on the backing the KKK will give us, and a few smaller organizations have pledged their allegiance to you. But I assure you, everything is, uh, in order." he removed the laptop from it's case, and booted it up, copying the file report to disk, and handing it to Steinbrenner with shaking hands. He had apparently lost some of his nerve. "It's all on the report."

"Alright, Wilson." Joseph said, placing the disk into his coat pocket, knowing that it would allow other police forces to apprehend violent anti-semitists. "We have some men we'd like you to meet. They're having a conference in the western part of town, along with a lot of their bodyguards, so it should be safe. We'll go now, alright?" With the last few word he spoke, Joseph's German accent came out, and the men in the back slid their guns from the holsters, ready to kill Wilson if necessary.

Wilson wiped his forehead, looking at Jeffries nervously. "Something in his voice..." he thought suspiciously. "Why did you say that like that?" he asked.

"Say what?"

"You sounded funny..." he narrowed his eyes, trying to determine what had just happened.

Joseph felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. "I've botched it." he thought to himself angrily. He wiped at the sweat on his temple and forehead. "Must be the heat." he said easily.

Wilson nodded, resigning himself to leaning back in the front car seat, as he loosened his tie. "It is... very hot today."

"I'll turn on the air-conditioner then." said Joseph, feeling his accent trying to squeak it's way out of his sore throat. "The heat must really be getting to me." he said out-loud, with a laugh. "Dammit!" he thought. "I'm blowing it."

Wilson still didn't seem to notice, only pressing himself against the seat, appearing to fall asleep, the sweltering sunlight permeating into every pore of his body.

Joseph Steinbrenner, aka. Mr. Jeffries, started the car, and drove off, ripples of heat rising off the black-top street.

They arrived at the abandoned factory, David realized that this area of town was a black neighbourhood. "Isn't this nigger-town?" David asked of Jeffries plainly.

"Yes." Jeffries said smoothly. He paused for a moment as he walked towards the front door. "Don't touch anything." he said with a laugh, taking a deep breath, and looking around as though he were trying to decide on something.

"Why are they all meeting here?" David questioned nervously.

"They can't risk being discovered, you see. Who would think to look for the Aryan Nation in..." Jeffries paused, appearing to look down the street. "... nigger-town?"

"Yes, of course. I apologize, sir."

Jeffries knocked loudly at the large door, and a voice from inside asked : "What's the word?"

"Hatemonger!" Jeffries said to David.

"What?"

"That's the password." he said, as the door slid open.

Inside, a large table was set in the middle of the floor, and David recognized each chair as being filled by a leader of the Aryan Nation, and some of the KKK, as well as representatives from a few smaller organizations.

But most prominent were the numerous, large white men, with even larger assault rifles, surrounding the men at the table, as well as standing at strategic positions throughout the room, lining the balconies on the floors above, and around the front door, and the back exit.

And then David saw him.

A large, black man with short hair stepped out of the shadows, and levelled his assault rifle at David. "Hey! What's the nigger doing...???" he turned and spun around to look at Mr. Jeffries, who was standing calmly behind him. He looked about him, seeing all the bodyguards, and all the 'leaders' had levelled guns at him.

"Jeffries, what the fuck is going on here?"

"My name is not Jeffries, Mr. Wilson. It's Steinbrenner, Joseph Steinbrenner." he said calmly, now speaking in his german accented voice.

"What?!?"

"I am not a leader, nor a member of the Aryan Nation, nor do I ever plan, or want, to be. I was born in Germany, and I am of Jewish descent. I am also a member of the NYPD, special forces." he said, taking a step forward.

David felt panic rise in his throat, as he took a step back, trying to find a way out. The Jew moved towards him, and David pushed past him, making a run for the door. One of the large, white bodyguards grabbed him by the shoulder, and spun him around, his fist connecting with David's jaw. David slumped to the floor, and someone rolled him onto his back, and pressed their knee into his spine, slapping his wrists with handcuffs. David could hear the click as the locks snapped into place.

"Mr. David Wilson, " the Jew said loudly, "You are under arrest for conspiracy to overthrow the United States government, conspiracy to commit genocide, conspiracy to commit malicious acts against government officials, conspiracy to commit malicious acts against United States citizens, and the 1991 murder of Charles Henry Wu, in Philadelphia, New York. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you can not produce an attorney, one will be provided for you. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?" the Jew asked quietly.

"Oh yeah, I understand them real well, JEW!" David tried to get up, but the officer on his back held him down. He tried to spit in Steinbrenner's face, but he couldn't crane his neck that far, so he missed completely.

David was then pulled upright, but held firmly in place by the muscular arms of the negro police officer. David tried to wrench himself free.

"Don't you let this nigger touch me! C'mon!" he screamed at one of the white officers. "You call yourself a white man? You fucking nigger lover!"

"Mr. Wilson, may I remind you your words will be used against you in court? Let's try not make this any worse than it already is." Steinbrenner said, smiling slightly.

"You wipe that damn smile off your face you god-damned Jew! When my contacts in the Aryan Nation find out about this..."

"They most likely won't care. Since about two years ago, you were not in contact with the Aryan Nation, Mr. Wilson. You were in contact with me, a Jew, the whole time." Steinbrenner tried to repress a laugh.

Wilson's face fell, and then he began screaming again. "I'll have your head on a stake, Jew! You can't stop us! We're your Superiors! We're saving the world from the likes of you!!" his face flushed red, and he tried to kick Steinbrenner in the face. He was too far away, and his legs were too short.

Joseph Steinbrenner grabbed David by the chin, his mouth puckering up as Joseph squeezed the cheek bones. "You stupid, insolent, little Nazi shit-head. You're not saving anything but your own ignorance with comments like that. You want to save the world? Turn your attention to poverty, world hunger, stopping wars! God knows you and your kind have done more than enough to make all those things more prevalent in the world today! You stupid idiot!" Joseph screamed in his face.

Wilson spit, it landed on Joseph's cheek, and he said "Get your hands off me, you dirty Jew." he whispered hoarsely. He shook his head free of Joseph's grasp.

Joseph rammed his fist into David's gut, and the older man slumped to the floor, winded. Two of the police officers grabbed Joseph and held him back, but he regained his control and shook them off. He looked down at David, trying to find the words to express his hate for the man on the ground before him.

"I hope you rot in hell, you Nazi bastard. The human race has no place for your kind." he said spitefully, his voice just over a whisper. He wiped the spit from his face with his sleeve, then turned on his heel and walked out the front door.

David laughed loudly through the pain in his gut. His sneer faded into a wide grin.

"I could say the same thing about you." he whispered quietly.

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