Wrath White - Yaccub's Curse

“You tryin’ to say that Dr. Yaccub created you? An evil white muthafucka that kills niggas and eat their brains? Just so he could fuck with us?!” My finger tightened on the Sig Sauer’s trigger, but Scratch’s own pistol was still pressed against my forehead.

“There’s a lot more to this shit. More than you could ever imagine. See, Dr. Yaccub had to be certain the two races would never unite. Never ever. And he couldn’t be sure that just having a White man running around raising havoc would be enough. I mean, what if Black folks got wise to what was going on and forgave White people? What if White people failed to take this devil’s lead? He had to make sure that the hate went both ways and White people hated Blacks just as much. He needed a Black devil. That’s you, Snap. Yeah, nigger. He created you too.

“Every generation we are born, we fight each other, and we die and then we are reborn, resurrected, to do it all over again. Even our battles against each other help keep the races divided. What do you think will happen when your friends find you dead at the hands of a White drug dealer? What do you think is going to happen all over the city when it hits the news? And if you had managed to kill me it would have caused a backlash in the White community. I have many respectable businesses in the suburbs and there are many people out there who know nothing about what I do down here in the ghetto. It would look like another innocent White man killed by a Black thug. When you die some industrious Civil rights lawyer will uncover enough dirt on me to make it look like a great big conspiracy among middle class whites to flood Black ghettoes with crack. The racial disharmony will continue all because of you.”

I shook my head slowly. Then I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to unhear his words, to convince myself that he was lying even though a part of me, a large part of me, knew he was right. I could feel it. I was every bit the devil he was accusing me of being.

“Bullshit! You’re lying! I had a mom and a dad. I was born in a hospital in front of witnesses. I ain’t some monster a mutherfucker made in some laboratory!” I wanted to shoot him so bad I was trembling but I was afraid that he’d still have enough time to kill me before he died.

“You weren’t born, Snap. You were reincarnated after we killed each other sixty years ago in a Civil Rights demonstration in Alabama. Your cells decomposed in a grave somewhere and then they started to multiply again and reform into a new body. The first thing you did when you were born was crawl your way out of a grave. Then you climbed into some newborn’s crib, murdered it, and replaced it. Just like I did. You’re not Malik Black. That was the name of the baby you killed so that you could steal his life. Reborn but with all the same instincts, the same genetic programming that Dr. Yaccub gave you.”

“That’s bullshit! I ain’t believin’ none of this. You’re just fuckin’ lyin’!”

“Am I? Look at your life, Snap. You are a walking stereotype. You’re what White America fears the most. You define the word nigger. Your lifestyle validates it. You live in a ghetto murdering people for drug money. Murdering your own people! You travel to middle class White neighborhoods and kick the shit out of innocent kids just for being White, and you even date a White woman that you treat like shit because she’s White. You’re a fucking racist who blames White people for every fuck up you’ve made in your life, taking no responsibility for your own actions. All your ideas and opinions about your own people and mine are racist as fuck. You are every redneck’s worse nightmare. You are what the Grand Dragon of The Ku Klux Klan describes to his congregation when he preaches hate. Your example makes it easy for White supremist groups to recruit new members. You have performed your role perfectly. But now it’s time for you to die so the cycle can continue.”

I loosened my grip on the Sig Sauer and let it slip from my hand.

“So why even tell me all of this? Why not just shoot me?”

“Because I need that Baby! You tell me where that little mutherfucker is and I might even let you live… for a little while anyway.”

“But why? What’s the deal wit’ this baby? Why do you give a fuck about a damned crack-baby?”

“DON”T FUCK WITH ME! You know damn well he’s more than just some crack-baby!”

“You’re tryin’ to tell me that baby’s really Jesus Christ?”

“I’m tellin’ you that if you knew who he was and how he fit into all this you’d kill him yourself. As long as he lives he’s a threat to both of us. That’s why I ain’t shot you yet. That’s why I’m tryin’ to talk some sense into you.”

“But why? I don’t know what tha fuck you tryin to say.”

“Alright, you really want to know? That baby is God’s attempt to intervene. Deus Ex Machina in a fucking diaper. He is forgiveness. His life will mean peace between the races, unless he dies before we do. Once he’s dead then we can kill each other, be reborn, and start this war all over again for the next generation. But, if he’s still alive when we die, then we don’t come back. You see what I’m sayin’? If that baby lives then there’s no resurrection. We’re dead for good and the races will come together just like in Dr. King’s naïve little dream. Yaccub’s curse would be ended. You see? That’s why I can’t let that little mutherfucker live. Because I like what I do and I want to keep doing it. Forever!”

“If I’ve been around for as long as you have, then why don’t I remember any of this?”

“Because, maybe the doctor figured you wouldn’t go along with it if you knew what you were and what damage you were doing to your race. We are still human despite Yaccub’s spells and potions. Maybe he figured that if you were just some angry misguided hoodlum that thought the world owed you a favor then you’d do all the evil he needed you to do without even knowing it. I’m hopin’ you’re smarter than that. That’s why I’m tellin’ you this shit now.”

“You’re wrong. You’re wrong! You’re the devil! Not me! I know who I am!”

“I can’t waste no more time with you. The cops could be coming any minute. You don’t want to tell me where he is, I’ll just have to find him myself after I body your ass.” He licked his lips and started to squeeze the trigger. I closed my eyes and thought about my life, all the pain I’d caused my family, my friends, my entire neighborhood, and perhaps even my entire race. I thought about my Grandmother and my mother and how they had tried so hard to raise me right. I thought about Christina and how I had taken her love so lightly. I waited for the bullet in complete calm. If Scratch was right, then this would be a blessing. Maybe the baby would still live and it would all be over.

I heard a loud crack and waited for the pain and the welcome oblivion, thinking he had pulled the trigger. Then I heard it again and again. I opened my eyes and Scratch was gone. When I turned my head to look for him I saw Huey standing on his chest smashing the butt of the AK 47 against his skull over and over again.

Breathing short shallow breaths and with spots dancing before my eyes, I scrambled to my feet and tried to join Huey in stomping the devil back down to hell. My feet rose and fell with all my weight behind it and Huey continued to pulverize bone and muscle with the butt of the assault rifle until Scratch’s skull came undone and his brains decorated the ground with globs of pink and red pulp. I brought my dusty leather Stacy Adams down on his mouth and knocked out the last of his gold teeth. They tumbled to the ground and lay there catching sunlight. I stopped to stare at them and the world tilted and rolled. I collapsed on my ass in the dirt as my consciousness began to fade, my ruptured lungs no longer able to take in any oxygen. Just before the darkness swooped in and sucked me down into dreams, I saw Huey kneel down and scoop Scratch’s brains up in his hands.