Schism

Chapter 10 part 1

Chapter 10

His truck was old, but not too old.  Its sun faded green paint helped it blend in to nearly every location.  It was nothing that attracted attention.  That was important.  He knew a leader shouldn't be inconspicuous, that he led best from the front.  But his men would have to be able to stand on their own.  And at those times it was best to blend in.

This was one of those times.

So he sat in the shadows, parked under the streetlight that had been broken by his men the night before.

Even his name kept him part of the background, when he wanted it to: Jared Smith.  He used others when necessary, but chose them with care.  John Smith was too conspicuously fake, and while he would have liked Jared White or John White, those would have been far too obvious.  The thought still made him smile, though.

He checked the rearview mirror and smoothed his shirt, a simple button down.  It was plain, devoid of any marks of rank or affiliation.  His body was also free of anything that would identify who he was, what he knew in his heart and soul to be true.  He had never been arrested, but if he was, the police would find no inked clues on his skin.

It was something he encouraged in his men, too.  Strongly.  If they had symbols of groups they had been in before joining Jared, they were covered over.  His own group had no symbols.  Tattoos of affiliation weren't only a source of information to the police; they were a barrier to access.  The armed services would no longer accept recruits who displayed them.  And Jared wanted his men training in the military, living in the military.  He wanted them everywhere.  It would be important after they were done in this city.

He peered out the windshield.  He'd dressed carefully, driven carefully, but he suspected it wasn't necessary.  Tonight was a simple initiation for a group of new men, and they were with David, his best trainer.  Jared would watch and see how they did with their surprise.

They had been told that they would simply be cleaning this neighborhood.  Just a section of one street that held a few shops and businesses.  It was part of the growth of the other races, growth that was forcing his people out of business, out of their homes.  The men thought that their test was simply to help defend their people with a few small fires, to force the coloreds out of the city with fire bombs.

The men thought they would throw a few fire bombs and run, but Jared had watchers everywhere, people who called, left messages about what was going on.  Even in this neighborhood, that was overrun, there were a few left who knew that it could be reclaimed, turned back to what it had been before the blacks and Mexicans had taken it away.  All these watchers had to do was call a number and leave a message about what they had seen, about a place that was vulnerable, or about a change in how the other races were acting.  Word would get to Jared and he made things happen.

One of these watchers had said that some of the locals, and not just the blacks, had started to wander the streets in armed groups, that they were going to try to hold their own, try to protect what they thought was theirs.  Jared had waited for this to happen, for the other races to collect into gangs, to fight back.  This was the next step, a necessary element for the main cleansing sweep that would begin later this week.  The violent confrontations would only make the coloreds look like villains and send more people to his side.  It was all part of his plan.  It was going to be their city, a white city.  It would be the first of many.

Jared's newest men would get a real test tonight.  They would be the first to fight, the first to trigger the next step.

He watched as they walked down the street, first two of them, then the third further behind.  David, the most adept at stepping from shadow to shadow, trailed them all.  They kept an easy pace, nothing hurried or conspicuous in their movements as they approached the shops with their barred windows.