LAIR OF THE WULF- a Barbarian in Chicago- part 2
CHAPTER TWELVE

Abdul Awakens

Abdul awoke hours later to a throbbing wrist, and a strong headache. His legs were tied tightly together, precluding his being able to stand. Next to him, the large black man who had struck his head on a rock was still out cold, his legs also tied, muttering in his sleep. Most of the words were curses, and Abdul found his disgust for the Black Lives Matter thugs revived. His alliance with them had been out of convenience and short-lived mutual interest.

The Indians were walking about the camp, unconcerned with him and the black man on the ground. A large vessel of water was next to the two prisoners on the earth, and Abdul picked it up thirstily. He guzzled noisily, and drank his fill. Then, in a fit of pique, he dashed the rest of the water onto the face of the sleeping black man, who sputtered and woke suddenly, cursing louder than he had before. Much louder. Abdul only laughed grimly.

The tribespeople ignored them both, and padded about the ever burning campfire in the center of their village, all seemingly calmly going about their daily tasks. They joked amongst one another as they moved, and some had started gathering about the fire, where there was meat roasting on a large spit, and vegetables steaming on a huge metal grate next to a large iron pot holding what smelled like a meat and vegetable based soup. It smelled so good, and Abdul remembered that he had not eaten for at least 24 hours. His mouth watered.

Many men and women, fit and lean, were engaged in tasks such as tanning hides and carrying firewood. A small group was constructing what looked like a new building on the edge of the village, but most were already gathered by the fire, seated on logs, wooden chairs, and some squatting on their haunches without discomfort. ‘What primitives!’ he again thought, but not without some measure of envy at their evident extreme fitness and flexibility, their clear-eyed and clean limbed beauty and contentedness.

But dominating the scene was the figure he had come to slay, Wulf the Barbarian. He lounged by the fire in a large chair, laughing and gesturing with a tall, very lean white-haired native elder whose rich leather garments, brocaded with beads of lapis and jade, proclaimed him to be a man of great importance within the tribe. And next to him, Abdul saw a black man in a high-ranking military uniform, smiling and gesturing to the elder in evident enjoyment. This was startling indeed to the terrorist leader!

He then sensed a shadow looming over him. Looking up from where he sat on the ground, he saw a lean, strong looking native youth, with long black hair and deep brown eyes, brimming with vitality. Next to him stood a black youth, but one that was dressed just as the native youth was. They appeared to be friends.

“Are you recovered, then?” asked the Indian youth, not unpleasantly. “I will have food brought to you both, as soon as it is ready.”

The black man who had fallen with Abdul in the woods was staring fixedly at the black youth next to the native youth, the red-lined whites of his eyes bulging. His jaw jutted truculently. “Hey- be yo’ Jafiro, the little Hyde Park nigger my little bro’ used to slap down?” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The black Indian looked at him curiously, and then slowly nodded. “Yassuh- I be Jafiro. And I know who you be- Tyrone. You is no good, jus’ like yore lil’ bro Malik!” And he smiled, with strong white teeth.

Tyrone just stared like he couldn’t believe it. Jafiro had always been a big joke around the ’hood back in Hyde Park- a helpless little skinny kid with huge thick glasses. Why, he’d slapped him down himself a time or two, just for fun! And now, this same little

kid looked almost as strong and capable as the Indian youth at his side. His arms were corded with lean muscle, and the glasses were gone, leaving him a clear seeing black native youth! How could this be, and so quickly too?

Nikan had walked away before this exchange, seeking food for the prisoners. One thing the natives here were not was cruel; never would they deny food and water to captives, both human and animal. Nikan spoke briefly to Wulf and the others, who glanced over at the prisoners with interest. Wulf nodded, and beckoned behind him for someone. “Trina- please bring food to our prisoners!”

A beautiful girl with long, straight black hair and cafe-au-lait colored skin walked over. She spoke with Wulf and Nikan, smiling warmly at Wulf, and then went to fill a large tray with food from the grate on the fire. Her native garb accentuated her lean musculature as she walked over towards the prisoners and Jafiro, kneeling supply down to lay the tray loaded with victuals on the ground within their reach. They both stared at her fixedly.

“Yo is one fine bitch, bitch,” said Tryone, with no gratefulness whatsoever for the food. His overt lust and meanness saw to that. She ignored him completely, and started to walk back towards the fire, when Abdul spoke up, overcome with anger.

“You come to us, uncovered in face, with naked legs and arms like the wanton that you are- you should be stoned by your men for your indecency, you slut!” His face writhed with anger, his hands shook with his rage. Trina turned suddenly, and kicked at the earth, which sent a flying cloud of dust and dirt at the two men, covering their faces and the food. She smiled a vicious smile, and strode away, each motion of her lithe body an expression of contempt.

Jafiro drew back his arm, instinctively to strike the ungrateful invaders lying before him, but he stopped himself. “Yo gonna be so sad, very sad that you be so bad!” He smiled at his witticism, but without humor. Anger burned in his clear black eyes. “I’m gonna say, both you dogs gonna pay!” And then he too walked away, over to the fire next to Wulf and the others.

Abdul and Tyrone watched with burning eyes as Jafiro gesticulated towards them, and pointed also at Trina, the young woman Wulf had brought out of the urban jungle along with Jafiro. Wulf conferred with Akula, who was the lean elder and medicine man at his side. As Akula spoke, Wulf nodded, along with Jafiro. Even the black man in the military uniform nodded, and he actually smiled with pleasure.

Standing, Wulf strode over to where Trina was stirring the soup pot, and spoke with her briefly. She nodded, once, and then continued tending the cooking pot. She did not seem overly concerned, but looked back once at the two prisoners and smiled with satisfaction.

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