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any moment. Her voice was feminine but hard. I know what you re thinking, but
there s no reason to be afraid. White warriors respect women,white women, and
wouldn t touch a hair on your head.
A hand blurred and reappeared with a .9mm pistol in it. The barrel was
pointed toward the ceiling. Besides, the woman continued, her teeth white in
the gloom, they know I d blow their balls off.
The men burst into loud laughter, as if that were the funniest joke they d
ever heard, and slapped each other s backs.
A new face appeared. It was male, handsome in a predatory sort of way.
Hello, Dr. Sool. My name is Jonathan Ivory. Please accept my apology for the
manner in which you were summoned. Marta is correct, youare safe here. Safer
than at your clinic. Your nurse is fine, by the way, or was when my men left.
Please, take a seat. Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?
Food was something that Sool frequently went without, partly because of her
tendency to give whatever nourishment that came her way to needy patients, and
partly because there was so little time. Suddenly she was aware of a wonderful
odor, felt her mouth fill with saliva, and heard herself say, Yes, I think I
would.
The words had an immediate effect. All tension seemed to drain from the room,
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the vast majority of the skins returned to whatever they had been doing, and
she was shown to a makeshift table. A man with a large swastika tattooed
across his chest stood, nodded, and drifted away.
The table consisted of a sheet of three-quarter-inch plywood on a couple of
crudely made sawhorses. Skulls, swastikas, and jagged bolts of lightning had
been carved into the surface and varnished into place with coffee and spilled
food. The images were disquieting and seemed at odds with the homey feel of
the place.
The stew, which was ladled out of an iron skillet by a man called Knees, was
excellent. He watched with pleasure as Sool consumed one bowl and part of a
second. She thanked the man. He grinned self-consciously and returned to his
chores.
It was only then, as Sool wiped her mouth with an old washcloth, that both
Ivory and Marta took seats at the other side of the table. So, Ivory asked,
do you feel better now?
Sool did her best to look strong and confident. You feed your prisoners
well, but they re still prisoners.
Ivory shrugged. True, for the moment, anyway. But who knows? Hear us out and
perhaps you willwant to stay.
Sool looked from one face to the other. They were sincere, that much was
plain to see, but there was something else, too: Both wore the self-satisfied
smirks of people who think they know all the answers. Still, talk was cheap
and would buy her some time. Sool forced a smile. Okay, I m listening. What s
this all about?
Ivory spread his fingers over a well-executed but nonetheless
grotesque-looking skull. In a world where most hands were dirty, his were
clean. Do you know who we are?
Sool looked beyond Ivory to the white swastika that had been painted on the
opposite wall. Some trick of the lighting caused it to glow as if lit from
within. Some sort of white-supremacy group?
Yes, Ivory said with no trace of embarrassment. We believe that the great
Yahweh, our name for God, set the white race over all others, and ever since
that time Satan, with the assistance of the Zionist Occupational Government,
has worked to pull us down.
Sool was starting to feel sick. She hoped it didn t show. Pull you down? In
what way?
Through race mixing, Marta volunteered earnestly. Take a look around. The
muds are everywhere. And who are they aligned with? The Saurons.
Marta s right, Ivory agreed. But the Saurons are a gift sent by the great
Yahweh to cleanse the planet. He did his part. Now we must do ours.
That s why we re here, to rally our kind and take the world back. You could
be part of that. We call ourselves the Society of the White Rose. Join and
we ll feed you, have someone take care of your work assignment, and support
your clinic as well.
Sool thought of her own mixed ancestry, realized that they believed she was
white, and felt the pull of temptation. All she had to do was grant them what
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they wanted, allow them to believe that she was white, and reap the obvious
benefits. White, not white, what difference did it make? It would be nice to
eat regular meals and practice medicine without having to dig ditches as well.
Or would it? Sool looked from one to the other.
Let s say I agreed to your proposal and joined your group. My clinic is open
to everyone. Would it stay that way?
Ivory s chair creaked as he leaned against the back. I know you mean well,
Doctor, treating the muds and all, but it doesn t make sense. They re out to
destroy our race. Why give comfort to the enemy? No, I think your services
would best be reserved for white folks.
So there it was a direct answer to a direct question.If Sool agreed,if she
gave the racists what they wanted, she d be forced to betray her patients and
herself. The doctor sighed. Why couldn t anything be simple? Why was
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