The Time War Ch. 19

The Time War

By Gary LM Martin

Chapter 19: Mountain Lions with Latin Appetites

The Black White Supremacists:

Ken Larson was playing chess with Jamal.

"You know, Son, chess was invented by white people," said Ken.

"No it wasn't Dad," said Jamal, in an annoyed tone. "It was invented in India. Even I know that."

"But white people popularized it," Ken insisted. He wouldn't be denied. "They took it and made the game theirs. Just look at what a beautiful game it is." He was naturally playing the white side, while Jamal used the black pieces.

Ken picked up his white king and admired it. "Here is the king, the king of white men! White men were made to rule, son. They may have tiny penises, but their minds are full of justice and wisdom, and they always bring great peace and prosperity to their peoples." Ken next picked up the queen piece. "Just look at this luscious white woman, Son. See how sexy she is with her smooth white skin?" Ken stroked the queen with his finger and thumb. "I'll bet she gives the king a lot of sexual pleasure with her lovely white body, don't you think?

"Dad!" Jamal groaned.

But Ken wasn't done. He picked up a knight. "And what do we have here? A white stallion, the finest of its breed, looking so brilliant and dashing and wonderful." Next he picked up a rook. "And here we have a castle, a castle full of brave white men, no doubt defending the virginity of many sexy white women." He smiled at Jamal's obvious discomfort. "And what do we have next, but the bishop? No doubt the bishop is invoking the power of the white God, to shine his love upon his chosen, the people of the white race."

"Dad, God isn't white; God isn't any color," said Jamal.

"Really? Tell that to Adam and Eve! They were the Lord's first children! Notice, Jamal, that they were named Adam and Eve. Not Lashonda and Mohammad. There was a reason for that. They were white. There was no racism in the Garden of Eden, son. Not until Adam bit down on the Apple. After that, everything was about racial quotas and set asides and unconscious racism and microaggressions and so-called Affirmative Action for thousands of years to come."

"And the pawns, Dad, what about those?" Jamal asked.

"The pawns? Well... I suppose those are simply short white folk. Not deemed tall enough to reproduce with the queen, so they are sacrificed on the front lines, to preserve the tall, white genetic bloodlines," said Ken, smiling broadly.

"And why does white always get to move first?"

"To combat a legacy of centuries of discrimination," said Ken. "For centuries, black moved first. Now white is just enjoying a little comeuppance." He checked his chrono. "Come along, Son. It's time for our big meeting."

********

"We have focused nearly exclusively on black-white discrimination in our efforts thus far," said Ken, addressing his fellow Black White Supremacists. "But that is not the only discrimination white people suffered. Spanish people flooded over the southern border by the millions. They too claimed they suffered abuse at the hands of white folk even though they never were enslaved. They were given free housing, medical care, welfare, and education, and white folk had to pay for all of it. In many areas the Spanish language even supplanted English, and white folk felt like they were living in another country."

"How sad for them," said Jamal dryly.

Ken gave him a glare. "And let us not forget that some of those who crossed over were drug smugglers and gangsters who committed crimes against white people--robbing, thieving, raping, and killing. Fortunately, we have a way to right this historical wrong. The problem is that America in the late 20th century never had any effective borders. Large areas of the southwest were simply open land, or had simple cattle fences that were easy to cut or climb over."

"So what are you going to do, Dad, build a wall across the entire southern border with Mexico?" Jamal asked.

"Even better," said Ken. "We're going to introduce Spanish eating Mountain Lions across the American Southwest."

********

It had been the idea of Thelma Kendricks, their resident doctor and geneticist. First she had come up with the idea of adding crocodiles to the Rio Grande, the river on the border of America and Mexico.

She had constructed an elaborate cloning plant on level three, where hundreds of crocodiles were in the process of being cloned. She gave Ken Larson and Mel Watts, their financier, a tour.

Ken looked at all the cloning vats. "This is really impressive, Thelma."

"Thank you, Ken," she smiled.

"But why didn't you use alligators instead of crocodiles?"

"Crocodiles have stronger bites," said Thelma. "Their jaws can press down 3,700 pounds per square inch. They can crunch down on a drug smuggler's thigh even if it's as thick as a cantaloupe. And crocs are simply bigger. Alligators are at most a thousand pounds, but crocodiles can be double that. One crocodile could sink four or five MS-13 gang members without breaking a sweat."

"I love it," Ken said immediately, looking at the small crocodiles being force grown in giant vats.

"I'm not sure I do," said Mel Watts. "I see my money has been well spent here, but what about innocent migrants who cross the border?"

"Mel, there are no innocent migrants," said Ken. "Even the ones who aren't criminals are dirt poor. Most of them suck on the white taxpayer's teat for healthcare, housing, food, education, and everything else."

"I know that, but that doesn't mean they should die," said Mel.

Thelma tried to reassure him. "Mel, there's an easy way the Central Americans can save themselves."

"How?" Mel asked.

"Simply by not getting into the water."

********

Next Thelma took them to level four, where they were mass producing Mountain Lions. At the moment they were babies, looking like little more than cats, but Thelma assured them that in two weeks they would have 300 fully grown Mountain Lions.

"You can't just release 300 Mountain Lions into the American Southwest," said Mel. "They will attack people."

"People, white people, will be perfectly safe," Thelma assured him.

"What do you mean?"

"These Mountain Lions have been genetically altered," said Thelma. "They only attack Spanish people."

"What?" How?"

Thelma explained how she had learned that Spanish people typically had slightly lower blood ph levels than white people, because of all the spicy food they ate. Thelma, being a geneticist, had identified the gene responsible for hunger in Mountain Lions and tinkered with it, so that Mountain Lions would hunger for human flesh with those lower ph levels.

"Just think of it," said Thelma. "A roaming guard force that doesn't have to be paid or supervised."

"You've done amazing work, Thelma," said Ken.

"I'm not so sure," said Mel. "Like you, I want to see an America that is white and pure. I love white people. They're so wonderful, generous, loving and kind, and I don't want to see them oppressed or taken advantage by people of other races. But to have Central Americans eaten by Mountain Lions...." He shook his head and made a face. "I think that goes too far."

Ken took Mel by the arm. "Mel, listen, listen," he said gently, steering him away from the Mountain Lion incubators. "Yes, it is true, that some Spanishy people will get eaten by Mountain Lions. I won't deny it. It could be a handful. It could be a few dozen, or a hundred, even. But after that the word will spread, and the illegal migrants will stop coming. Isn't that what we want?"

"Well, yes, but for even a hundred to be eaten by lions...."

"It's regrettable, I know," said Ken. "But Mel, Mel, tell me, how many white people are killed every year by illegal alien drunk drivers?" Mel didn't answer. He didn't know. "How many white children are sold narcotics by illegal aliens? How many white people are robbed or beaten by illegal alien gang members? How many white women are raped by illegal alien gang members? How many white people are murdered in cold blood by illegal aliens? You see, Mel, we're not talking about a few dozen white people, or even a hundred. We're talking tens of thousands. In light of that, isn't a few dozen Hispanic gang members becoming nutritious protein supplements for lions worth the price of saving all those lovely white folk?"

Mel bit his lip and considered. Then he reluctantly nodded.

"Good," said Ken. "Trust me, when you call your bank or insurance company, and don't have to wait while you press 9 to get someone in English, you'll realize it was all worth it."

********

Daniel stood in the control room, watching nervously as a team marched through the Binochi Corridor. "I hope they don't share the fate of Craig Kirby."

"Craig Kirby?" said Calle.

"A lieutenant... before your time," said Daniel. "They say he was grabbed by a creature inside the Binochi Corridor, and dragged off the path. He was never seen again."

Calle's mouth dropped open. "Sarah, is that true?"

"I wasn't there. I didn't observe it," said Sarah, who, as a Passive Observer, could only attest to what she had actually seen.

"His team members said it was a glowing creature of some kind who dragged him off the path," said Daniel.

"Why didn't they try to help him?"

Daniel shook his head. "Once you go three feet off the past into the mists, you're lost. Forever."

Calle turned to Sarah again. "And you never heard about this?"

"The official after-action report said that Lieutenant Kirby wandered off the path and was irretrievable," said Sarah, staring intently at her screens.

"And you believe that?"

"It is the official position of Commander Strayker that there are no creatures inside the Binochi Corridor," said Sarah.

Calle remembered the whispers he heard every time he entered the Corridor. "And what do you believe?"

"Commander Strayker said-"

"Said what?" said Strayker, suddenly appearing. He was wearing a high collar beige outfit today. He glared at them with blue eyes. When no one answered, he said, "What's happening, Sarah?"

"Just a moment, sir. The team is reporting in now," said Sarah. She listened to her earpiece, and nodded.

"What is it?" Calle asked.

"We noticed some anomalies on the southern border of the United States," said Daniel. "We just sent a team into Brownsville, Texas."

"And?" Calle asked.

"The store signs and traffic signs... they are all in English," said Sarah, listening to the report. "Everyone--on the street, in stores, in homes--are all speaking in English. And the people... the people are all...." Her voice trailed off. Suddenly, she was on the verge of tears.

"Well, spit it out!" Strayker snapped.

"They are all white, sir," said Sarah, in a choked up voice.

"Oh my God," said Calle, his jaw dropping. He felt sick to his stomach. Everyone looked like a bomb had just exploded. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Erica Green give a hoarse cry as she vomited into a disposal bin, sobbing wildly.

********

"It sounds like our friends the Black White Supremacists have been busy again," said Colonel Strayker. He shook his head aggressively as a dark haired Indian woman with large buttocks gestured towards him with a pot of atomic coffee.

"I thought the Black White Supremacists were intent on stopping black people from settling in the United States," said Calle.

"They are, but their agenda is not exclusive to that," said Strayker. "Any race they feel has taken advantage of white people, whether they be black or Spanish or Arabic or whatever else, are targets of opportunity for them."

"We can't have an America without Spanish people, sir," said Erica Green, in a choked voice. Her eyes were still red from crying.

"I quite agree," said Strayker. "Sarah, how have they accomplished this?"

"There were successive waves of illegal immigration to the United States in the 20th, 21st, 22nd, and 23rd century, until Central America was two thirds depopulated," said Sarah. "We've pinpointed the incursion beginning in the late 1980's. The expected influx of illegals simply hasn't occurred. But we don't know why."

"Well, find out!" Strayker glared.

********

John Calle stood on the banks of the Rio Grande in Texas. The water looked calm. He looked across the border and saw illegal aliens gathering. But they wouldn't cross.

"Come here!" he said, in Spanish. "Free! Free food, housing, medicine!" he cried.

But the illegal alien shook their head and looked fearful.

Suddenly Calle felt a finger pressing into his back. "Don't move," he heard.

Calle didn't move.

Sharice Robinson slowly came into view. She had her thumb raised and her finger pointing at him like it was a gun. She aimed her finger at him menacingly. "Once again, I have to decide whether to shoot you, John Calle. Should I?"

"Doesn't the condemned man get one last request?" said Calle.

Sharice leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. "Or perhaps even two, if they're the right kind."

********

They had worked out a system of communication, or at least Calle could communicate with her, leaving messages at a certain electronic dropbox on the global data network. Their encounters were no longer random.

Nor was their lovemaking.

As Calle made love to Sharice in a seedy hotel in Brownsville, he reflected on how their unlikely relationship had blossomed. He was making love to a Black White Supremacist. She was a black person trying to change history to black people's detriment, and he was a white person trying to restore history to help black people.

Calle reflected on their philosophical differences as he inserted his penis into Sharice's vagina.

"Oooh," she moaned. Sharice was in heaven. "I just can't get enough of that small white penis of yours!"

Calle grimaced, even as he pounded her. He had asked her not to call it small, but she kept-

"Yeah, give it to me, baby, give me your skinny white dick!" Sharice cried.

Despite her words, Calle found himself getting more and more excited. He felt himself closing in on his orgasm.

"Yeah, baby," Sharice smiled, wrapping her arms around him. "Fill me with your creamy white goodness. Put a baby into me, John!"

A baby?

Suddenly, Calle realized he had never asked Sharice whether she was Protected. He had just assumed-

"Oh yeah, baby, yeah!" Sharice cried. Her vaginal muscles clamped down on the excited head of his organ, scraping it painfully. Calle cried out as it sent him over the edge. Suddenly, he was releasing inside of her, pulse after pulse, with all he had.

"Yeah... yeah... I can feel it," said Sharice, her eyes shining as she pressed her heavy breasts against him. "Fill me with it. I want it all!"

Afterwards, as they lay together, Calle got a good look at her body. It had changed. Sharice was a light skinned black woman, but her large, heavy breasts were now... white. And her disciplined triangle of pubic hair was now bright white, like it had been bleached.

"Do you like it, Honey?" she asked, seeing his stare. "I did it just for you." And she gave him a sweet kiss.

"You didn't have to do that for me," said Calle.

"But I wanted to, Chile," said Sharice. She stared at him hungrily; even after having climaxed moments ago, she was still hungry for his sexy white body. She looked down at his penis, which was now semi-deflated; the smaller it looked, the sexier it got!

"Sharice, did you... did you mean what you said before, about making a baby?" Calle asked.

"Um hm," said Sharice solemnly. "I have selected you to put a white baby into me, John Calle. Oh, I know, I could have used a sperm bank, but I like your white body, John. Can you imagine a baby, a little white version of me or you?"

Calle took her hand. "Sharice... even if I wanted to have a baby with you... it might not be white."

"Oh, I know, you're a hundred percent, and I'm only fifty percent," said Sharice. "But we have a doctor, a wonderful geneticist named Thelma Kendricks who's my good friend, and she can fix that, dear. Not to worry. No matter what you bake in my oven, it's gonna come out white bread in the end!"

Calle tried to hide the horror he was feeling. He suddenly realized that there were two different Sharices, the gentle, kind loving woman he had flirted with and had sex with repeatedly, and the other Sharice, the black white supremacist whose head was filled with ugly, racist thoughts.

And both of those Sharices might soon be carrying his child. If she wasn't already.

Calle tried to put thoughts of that out of his mind. He had a job to do.

"Sharice, how did you stop the illegal alien migration from Mexico?"

"Isn't it wonderful, dear? America, a land founded by white people, for white people-"

"How did you do it, Sharice?"

"I'm not s'pposed to tell you that," said Sharice. "I'm supposed to be shooting you, not... not letting you shoot in me, heh heh."

"Please?" said Calle.

Sharice sighed, and bit her lip. "It's crocodiles. And Mountain Lions."

"What?" said Calle.

"We put crocodiles into the Rio Grande."

"How could a few crocodiles-"

"Oh, Sugar, we put hundreds in there. We cloned them. I told you, my friend Thelma, she's a genius. Why, if she were white, you could only imagine the things she could-"

"And what about the Mountain Lions?"

"Hundreds too, dear. All across the American Southwest."

Calle blinked as he realized the implications of this. He got up, and reached for his clothes.

"Where you going, Honey?"

"I have work to do."

Sharice made a dismissive sound with her lips.

********

"Good work, Captain," said Strayker, giving him a hard stare. "Now that we know the cause, we can work on solutions. Major Reynolds, take a team out and capture one of these crocodiles and Mountain Lions."

"Sir?"

"You heard me. Tranquilize them, and deliver them to Doctor Vladek." He gave them all a parting glare, and stomped off to his office.

Sarah walked over to Calle. "Good work, John," she said, giving him a blank stare.

"Thanks."

"How exactly did you learn what the Black White Supremacists were up to?"

Her stare suddenly grew hard.

"I sensed it," he said promptly. "My special talent, remember?"

Sarah simply stared at him.

********

"I think I have worked out a solution to both our problems," said Doctor Vladek. They were in his lab.

"The crocodiles was the easier one," he said. "All we have to do is raise the Ph level of the Rio Grande. It will repel the Crocodiles, and send them into the Gulf of Mexico."

"Can we do that?" Strayker asked.

"Certainly. All we will need is enough calcium carbonate," said Doctor Vladek.

"And the Mountain Lions?"

"Ah. That required a more complicated solution," said Vladek.

He took them to another room, where they saw an adult Mountain Lion. Major Reynold's team had tranquilized one and brought it to the lab, but it was quite awake now. And hungry too, as Vladek hadn't fed it in two days.

"Observe," said Vladek. He pressed a button on his Pad.

They could see an internal door in the room open, and a man stepped into the room.

"What is he doing?" Calle cried.

"Relax. He is in no immediate danger," said Vladek. Indeed, as they watched, the Mountain Lion appeared to sniff the air around the man, but did nothing.

"And now, watch this," said Vladek, pressing another button on his Pad.

The internal door opened again, and a new man entered. It was then that Calle noticed that the first man who had entered was white, and this newcomer was Spanish. The Mountain Lion immediately roared and pounced on the Spanish man.

"Dios! Dios! Ayudame! Ayudame por favor!" the Spanish man screamed, as the Mountain Lion started to chew on his arm.