Mark Townsend - White captive

"Hey," Duke's voice burst across the room, interrupting her digressions. "Help Jodie with some chow."

Susan automatically rose to her feet at his command, pulling the blanket tight around her like a cape and started for the kitchen. She dreaded going in there, because she knew she would be alone with the tall negress who was Duke's girl. She knew also that she had made a bitter enemy that could be far more dangerous than any of the others had been so far. She had studied her back by the fireplace, and could tell by the way she hung onto Duke that she was insanely jealous of him. In fact, there was not the slightest doubt in her mind that Jodie would kill for him if she were forced into the position. Susan had read grim accounts in magazines of what girls from these gangs had done to each other over possession of their men, and shuddered as a few of the more grisly details filtered through her worried mind. She would just have to be as careful as she could, and stay as close to Duke as possible. She had to, for the sake of her life. Nothing she could do or say would change the negro girl's enmity towards her now, and without Duke's protection she would be at the mercy of all the others. She would rather die than go through another horrible ravishment that her body had been subjected to last night.

No, there was only one way out. And that was by giving her all to the negro leader, in spite of her repulsion of him and all the others. Duke was her only hope for survival.

"Here's the map," she heard the educated negro say as she passed the table. "We're gonna make last summer's little warm-up in Detroit look like a Sunday school picnic."

"Okay, man," Duke said skeptically, looking over the table at the two girls as they disappeared into the kitchen. "Spell it out fo' us."

Susan followed behind the negress girl as they entered the kitchen, and did not say a word. She knew that whatever she did say would be taken with anger and didn't want to start anything, though she knew something was bound to happen sooner or later. The negress did not intend to let her off so easily for her encroachment on her man, even if she had been raped. If Jodie had the least opportunity, she would make it unbearable for her.

Jodie went right to work, as though she had been through this kind of thing a hundred times before. She said nothing at all to Susan as she followed her silent indications over what was to be done in preparation for the meal. First, came the bread, and then the thinly sliced lamb that they had brought in abundance. She remembered looking for some ham in the grocery bags last night, but could find none. It was then she recalled reading about the black Muslim movement among the ghetto negroes; of course, they did not eat ham, instead they followed the Moslim religion of the Arabs and made their staple food, lamb. This fit so well with the many other puzzling factors about them that she still didn't understand fully.

There must be a strong purpose in this gathering, she thought, and a far more evil purpose than merely holding up supermarkets or mugging drunks in back alleys. She could not place her finger on it yet, but from the few things she had picked in isolated bits of conversation, it was sure to be something big they were planning.

"Don't touch it," Jodie snarled, as Susan made a move to pick up the tray that held the sandwiches. "I'll take care of 'em. You jist wash up and stay heah in the kitchen."

Susan gladly followed her command. The more she stayed away from the others, the less problems it would create for her. The imbicilic Stitch was beginning to get on her nerves the way he undressed her with his lewd glances out of the corner of his eye when he thought Duke wasn't watching. She realized that the less she stimulated his desire with her presence, the safer she would be later.

She busied herself washing up the things they had dirtied while the negress disappeared through the door with the tray. She wished she could stay alone all day and collect her thoughts, or try to, but knew it would be impossible. She might possibly have a chance to escape if she had enough time to recover her wits and think hard enough. It shouldn't be too difficult, as they weren't watching her that closely now. They didn't even seem to be worried about it, but she knew that if she did try, she had better succeed. Once they caught her at it, she would never be given the chance again, and she was sure her punishment would be swift and harsh. No, she would just have to bide her time and wait for a chance that could not fail.

"Duke says you're to come out in the other room," Jodie suddenly said from the door. "He don't want you alone in heah."

The tone of her voice was cold and filled with a hatred of the most intense kind. The negress had realized now that her position with the leader was in jeopardy by his concern over the white girl. Susan could feel the change of her attitude from one of sudden confused jealousy, to a deep animal loathing whose intensity knew no bounds.

The negress filled half the doorway and would not move as Susan started out to join the others in the front room. She paused for a moment to give her the chance to let her by, but Jodie remained defiantly entrenched where she was standing, fire sparkling in her black eyes.

"He's mine, and I'll kill you if you touch him," she hissed into her ear, being careful that the others could not hear. "And," she added as Susan squeezed by her, "I won't do it fast-like. It'll be nice and easy, so's you can feel it all the way down to white hell."

Susan trembled, pausing for the slightest of seconds as the girl spoke to her, and then continued on as though she had not heard her.

"Come on, baby," Duke smiled proudly as she came into the room. "I want ya to see this heah plan. Ya might wanna change sides in this heah war when ya see what we got cookin' for the honkies down in Chicago."

"I don't think she ought to hear this Duke," the newly arrived negro said quietly. "If it gets out before we're ready, it could ruin the entire plan."

"Man," Duke answered, looking him coldly in the eye, "You bring the bread and you lay the plan, but don't tell me how to git it done."

"Alright," the other negro said after pausing for a moment, "but remember, if anything goes wrong, you'll have to answer to the man. Not me."

"I'll answer to the man," Duke said confidently. "As long as he sends the bread."

It was obvious that whatever they were planning had something to do with the riots that had been going on in a small scale for the last several weeks. This negro tanking to Duke seemed to be an intermediary between Duke's gang and someone else who was running things on a much broader scale. Susan could see also, that the union between the two groups was very shallow, and was not being done on Duke's side for any particular social or philosophical reason. It was being done because he and his gang were being paid to do it, and nothing else.

"Sit down, baby, and listen." Duke motioned to an empty chair beside him. "You gonna see how the great race war of the summer nineteen hundred and sixty-eight really began."

Susan sat hesitantly in the chair, aware of the glaring eyes the negro girl had locked on her. She dared not look up at her for fear of giving away the dread that permeated her whole body. This would be a mistake now, and would only bring further retaliation. If she stayed near Duke and kept his confidence until her chance for escape arose, she should be safe, and, it was the only way she could be assured of escaping the others. Particularly, the lust-crazed Stitch, who even now was licking his lips nervously as he watched her from across the table.

"First, man, the bread." Duke halted the well-dressed negro as he started to point to an enlarged map of the Chicago Woodlawn ghetto area that was laid out on the table. "How much ya got?" Duke persisted.