The Road to the Third World

             Conspiring to Destroy America

                       By Stephen Cafaro

                           Chapter 1

The elderly couple huddle together in a corner of their bullet riddled home. Their middle class house is boarded up to provide protection from unwelcome intruders. They stare blankly at a small static speaking television set. The listening volume of the set goes from near silence to a blasting crescendo, and the video jumps frames at a time reminiscent of a 1940’s television viewing experience. It is the second decade of the 21^st century, and time has not been kind to America.

The old man rises from his position of safety and hobbles over to the sporadic set to adjust the makeshift wire antenna. He moves the improvised metal hanger in various directions, but to no avail. Frustrated, he slaps the side of the set and suddenly the sound and scenes improve. “Humph” he mutters as he slowly moves back to the corner. He is bent over as he prepares to seat himself beside his wife.  Suddenly, there is a loud cracking noise just as a large splinter of wood is dislodged from a wood covered window. The elderly lady looks up to view a pencil sized beam of new light that has invaded the darkened room. Momentarily, she smiles as she muses with her husband. “Another near miss, but we have more light and air conditioning.”

The words were no sooner said when she felt the weight descend upon her. Her husband falls into her lap gasping for air and clutching his throat. She moves his hand to reveal the splinter lodged in his throat. She cringes as she prepares to remove the wood. Before she can assist, her husband faintly waves off the effort as he casts a directional glance at his upper body. The woman follows the gaze to reveal a bullet wound in his chest. She grows faint as she observes the flow of blood and hears the horrific sucking sound coming from the wound. She futilely cradles his head in her arms in a comforting motion.  Within seconds, she feels his body stiffen just as he expels a final whoosh of air. A lone tear flows from her tired eyes and she gently rocks the dead body. She brushes the few remaining hairs on his balding forehead and gently lays his head on the floor.

 She rises and shuffles to the bathroom where she opens a container bearing a hand written label -- Cyanide. She grabs 2 capsules and pours a glass of water. Returning, she lifts her husbands head to her bosom. She again resumes the consoling rocking and gulps a drink of water to swallow the pills. Resigned to her fate, she awaits her final moments. She looks down at her husbands graying face and whispers “I’m coming to join you just as we discussed. It will be good to be away from this world. I’m surprised we lasted this long!” A bit of regret overcomes her as she silently prays for divine guidance. Dear God, why has all this happened? What have we done to bring your anger upon us? It is over for me, but what of my children and grand babies? What will come of them? What will become of my country? Please let the punishment end!

Her weary eyes return to the television screen. A somber reporter summarizes the current state of affairs. He is reporting from an middle class neighborhood in upstate New York that is in appalling condition. Video pictures of fallen wires, garbage strewn streets and fortress like residences attest to the plight of this once fashionable area.

  A cameraman is slowly panning the neighborhood as the reporter begins his dialogue. “America is under siege! It is impossible to understand how all this happened.  A quick look at this upscale area reveals the depth of our ongoing problem. Boarded and bricked windows and doors hide the elegance of these fine homes.  Booby trapped devices have replaced flowers and trees in the once fashionable landscapes. Gangs of marauding thieves and gun totting vigilantes have replaced the children and families that once frolicked in the streets. The playful shouts of kids at play are lost to the ever present sounds of gunfire. And yet—all this is but a microcosm of what is happening throughout America today.”

The cameraman now focuses on the reporter as he continues his assessment. “It’s mind numbing to think just six months ago, our country was in great shape. The President and government officials were touting our resilient economy. We were told that the United States is the greatest country in the world and that our system is the finest in the history of mankind. No one seems to be able to explain how the dollar suddenly collapsed. Everyone thought such a thing was impossible—that the countries of the world were reliant upon us for their survival and that no country would ever move against us. But move against us they did, and with disastrous consequence for America. Our government quickly reacted by attempting to cover the federal debt with a flood of hastily produced dollars.  This process normally worked to settle economic concerns, but this time the end result was hyper inflation.  Wall Street joined the catastrophe in short order. Declines in the stock market were trailed by massive lay offs, bank failures and corporate bankruptcies. The economic problems spilled over into the streets as people vied for jobs, money, food and the other staples of survival. Finding no way out, the populace soon turned their rage on the government, the financial institutions and finally, one another!  The army and the National Guard have been called out, but they are barely able to protect government buildings and politicians from the growing wrath.”

The broadcaster becomes more passionate and he injects his personal feelings. “The country is in a state of absolute anarchy. Looters, murderers and vigilantes are the new rule of law. The government can not protect you! I repeat---the government can not protect you! Each of you must defend yourselves in any way you can!  This is an ominous time for America.”

A quizzical look appears on the reporters face as he questions the origin of the dilemma. “What I don’t understand and what no one can explain is how something like this could have ever happened to our country. We had it all – homes, jobs, incomes, and a standard of living that were the envy of the world. We had the best system, the best technology, the best managers, the best companies and the best people.  When America talked, the world listened. When America instructed, the world responded! Clearly, we are the undisputed best! How is it possible we have fallen so far, and so quickly?  I don’t understand!”

 The voice from the television grows distant as the old woman begins to lose consciousness. Her final unspoken plea is for her children. Spare them Lord so they may right whatever wrongs that have incited your fury. Please show them the way out of this inferno!  She draws her final breath oblivious to the origin of the debilitating cancer that has infected America.

 She is among the hundreds of millions of Americans who will never comprehend the enormous crime that has been perpetrated on the American people. Complacency, arrogance and feelings of superiority had become the blinders of the bewildered masses.  Generations will suffer the pangs of economic denial with their only hope being the fleeting memories of a once great country. Americans have just begun the painful process of daily survival, human degeneration and social injustice that accompanies any failed country. At a point, the fatal outcome was avoidable. Some knew of the specific problem and tried to avert the economic disaster.  This is a story of the problem and those who gave their lives seeking to change the inevitable conclusion.  

                 Chapter 2

Chou Bing’s face contorts as he absorbs still another blow from the group of vicious attackers. The latest strike caused a large gash to open on his cheek bone. Blood flows freely from the wound as he feverishly seeks to bury his head in his arms. Chou wraps his body in a fetal position even as he feels new pain coming from the continuing barrage of flying fists and flailing boots. In the background, he hears the drunken slurs of his assailants as they persist in the savage beating. “You god damned slanty eyed chinks should learn to keep your yellow asses out of this neighborhood. We’re going to fuck you up real good!  Maybe you people will learn to stay in Chinatown?”

The assault continues as his small frame is kicked around like a rag doll. Suddenly, they stop. Chou peeks from the safety of his folded arms to see four men dressed in black leather jackets swigging beer and laughing. They seem to be huffing in exhaustion from the violent thrashing they just delivered. He hears the voice of another goon. “These people never learn. We kick their asses, send them home and in no time they are back pushing their chink drugs in the zone. We need to deliver a message they will understand! We need to hurt him bad so ----”

Another voice interrupts. “I got it!” He slowly unzips a side pocket of his jacket and pulls out a pearl handled object. He pushes a button on the device and a six inch stiletto hops out of the holder. “Maybe if I straighten out those eyes and peel off a little yellow, he won’t be so obvious the next time he sneaks his ass into the zone?”  He raises his beer bottle, and the four simultaneously clink their bottles in agreement.

Chou hears the words and fear envelopes him. A surge of adrenalin energizes his beaten body, and he jumps to his feet and begins to run towards a light at the end of the dark alley. In the distance, he could see the outline of a stream of by passers. He attempts to yell out for attention, but his vocal cords respond with a raspy whimper. Chou looks back to see the four black jackets in close pursuit. He turns back to the light and attempts to pick up his pace. He is running for his life and he knows it! Suddenly, he trips over the corner of one of the irregular cobblestones which pave the alley. He falls uncontrollably to the hard surface and immediately feels the pain of his old and now, new wounds. He quickly rolls over to resume his escape, but the brush of leather against his face followed by a blow to the back of his head calls a quick end to his flight.

 “Stand him up boys and muzzle the son of a bitch. It’s time to carve up a chink. I got to give him credit though—the yellow bastard can run!”

 Immense horror overcomes Chou as he struggles in vain against the jacketed oppressors. He is held firmly by his hands, feet and head and feels powerless to resist. He hears the mechanical click as the pearl handled knife is again opened to reveal the long slim blade. He is trembling uncontrollably as he views the ornate patch behind the oncoming knife. Skulls, crossbones, Pagans from Hell --- Is this the way I am to die?  He looks into the face of the man with the knife and sees a bewildering image. The man is smiling hysterically and his lower lip spasms as he draws the knife closer to Chou’s eye. Suddenly, the blade stops as the man admonishes himself. “Not so fast with the eyes. I want to peel you a little first!” 

The man rips at Chou’s shirt and exposes his torso. Slowly, the knife approaches Chou’s heaving chest. The knife is turned sideways to thinly cut his chest. Chou feels a wave of agony as the knife begins its treacherous journey. Chou hears his attacker gleefully announce the surgical intrusion. “Slice and dice boys—slice and dice!  Anyone like some yellow meat?”  Chou struggles in vain as the knife continues to cut into his flesh. His fear has turned to hatred even as he seems resigned to his fate.

Chou looks into his attackers face just as a surprised grimace replaces the lusty grin. The eyes of his assailant roll back into his head and he falls in a lump onto the ground. There is shouting as he views a piece of metal coming in the direction of the men who are holding him. “Take this mother fucker—you’re going to die!”  Chou feels the grip on him loosen and he immediately unleashes a series of punches and kicks on one of the stunned aggressors. He hears the deadly thud of the steel and the accompanying screams of pain as it makes contact time and again. In a little less than 30 seconds of relentless attack, three of Chou’s assailants are unconscious on the ground and one is hastily retreating into the darkness of the alley.

Chou looks up at his college friend, Todd Robbins, who is holding the bloodied piece of rebar in his hands. “They were going to kill me Todd. If you didn’t come by when you did, I would be dead now!”

Todd is shaking as he replies. “What happened to you Charlie?  The last time I saw you was in the bar talking with one of the girls. I started to look for you and the girl motioned to the alley. I went outside and heard the noise, and saw the four men holding you. I grabbed the bar and started swinging.” Todd continues to ramble as he notices the slicing wound on Chou’s chest. “Christ-- Charlie—are you all right? It looks like they hurt you bad! What are you doing out here?”

Charlie is stumbling towards Todd. “I had to take a piss man. As soon as I walked out the back door, the four guys jumped me and started to beat me. I don’t think they like Chinese people!” Charlie reaches out to embrace Todd. “Man—you saved my life!  I owe you everything!”

Todd looks at Charlie whose eyes are glistening with emotion. Todd holds his friend up as he responds. ”You would have done the same for me. You’re bleeding badly. I need to get you to a hospital. How do you feel? Should I call for an ambulance?”

“Thanks to you, I am okay Todd. I think we can just drive to the hospital. The wounds look worse than they are. I’ll be okay. In fact, I feel more alive than I have for a long time! I do have a pretty serious dignity problem though. I think I pissed in my pants! Let’s get out of here before they come back!” Todd supports Charlie as they slowly hobble to the end of the alley.

 Todd Robbins and Chou Bing have been room mates since starting college at Harvard. It is now late spring of 1977 and they will complete their undergraduate work next week. Today had started rather ordinarily with Charlie visiting some relatives in Boston’s Chinatown. He asked Todd to go along. After the visit, they decided to celebrate their impending graduation with a stop at the infamous Combat Zone for some special entertainment. They have been to the zone on many occasions and never had a problem. Tonight was different. They didn’t get drunk and they didn’t get laid, but they did develop a special bond that would last a lifetime.