Under ordinary circumstances, I’d take heed of her warning, but now, I was just pissed. What the fuck had I done to anyone that would cause them to come after me? I was a guy who tried to keep my tribe from being treated like shit. I took on the bigots who wanted to do harm to my community as they all went about their daily lives. Was I now going to have tophysicallyfight for their rights?
“What things, Dagmar? What the hell is going on?”
She sucked in a breath and released it, not taking her eyes off me. “You are in danger, Sean. You need someone to make sure you’re safe. You’re not popular with some of the conservatives, but you know that.
“Now, it seems, some of the outer fringes have taken notice of what you’re trying to do. I respect your efforts, Sean. My sister is lesbisch, uh, how you...lesbian. We are very close, Lena and me, but the rest of our family disowned her. I fear that there are those in the government who are of the same mind as my family.” Dagmar glanced around, and suddenly, she turned and walked back into the kitchen.
I glanced around to see those weird blond twins in the back of the restaurant near the restrooms, both sitting on the same side of the booth so they could see me clearly. What the fuck did they want?
“I’ve had enough of this,” I said to nobody in particular. Claus was at the other end of the bar, so I put a napkin over my drink and walked toward the men’s room. I didn’t make eye contact with the twins. I had the feeling they’d confront me behind the closed door.
I went to a urinal but didn’t open my pants. As I expected, the door opened and one of the twins entered the room. He eyed me suspiciously before stepping up to the urinal and unzipping his pants.
When I heard the stream hitting the urinal cake, I stepped backward to lean against the sink, crossing my arms over my chest. “What exactly do you want with me?”
The man chuckled. “I want nothin’ with you. I’m here to tell you to stop meddlin’ with the laws of this country. There are abominations in this world, and now is the time to remove them permanently. Count your days, Mr. Fitzpatrick.”
He zipped his pants and walked out of the men’s room without washing his hands. I noticed his twin standing outside the door,obviously blocking anyone from entering. I quickly washed my hands and stepped out into the hallway, seeing the two men standing at their table.
They were as identical as any twins I’d ever seen. One of them turned to stare straight at me while the other tossed bills on the table. They both headed toward the door when one of them turned and held up his left hand, sticking out his index finger and lifting his thumb in imitation of a handgun, aiming it in my direction. He winked, and then they walked out. I was stunned for a moment.
Once I gathered my thoughts, I started in the direction of the door, but I was stopped by Claus. “Sit down. Let me talk to you.”
Before I could protest, he pointed to my seat where there was a fresh drink, and he nodded. Like a defeated child, I stomped back to my stool and sat, finishing my first drink and taking a healthy swig of my second.
Was I just threatened with a hate crime? When the blond said abominations, was he referring tome? What the actual fuck?
Camp Brotherhood
Southern Pines, North Carolina
I sat on a wooden plank nailed to three tree stumps, forming a makeshift bench. The air smelled of damp leaves and rotting mulch. Camp Brotherhood was nothing but ramshackle cabins with no electricity, no indoor plumbing, and no discernible appeal whatsoever. Why would anyone come to a place of this sort? It was beyond my comprehension. Yet, there I sat.
“The boys are mostly like you, Harper. No fathers or male role models in their lives at all, but that’s where we come in. We’re here to offer them a port in the storm of evil that permeates our country—hell, for that matter, our world. We’ll teach you how to be a man, and you’ll learn to distinguish a truly righteous believer from someone set to lead you into darkness.”
My host was Art Judge, a former master sergeant and training officer at Camp Mackall, where my cousin was sent for Special Forces training while in the Army. I was paying extra close attention to Judge’s comments because I didn’t have a way to take notes without tipping my hand for the real reason I was there. I had to hope the small recorder in the pocket of my jeans was catching everything so I could refer to it when I wrote the story.
“Just to clarify, Mr. Judge, what do you considerdarkness?” I feigned an innocence I hadn’t held since I was sixteen and lost my virginity to the captain of the soccer team at my high school. For me, high school had been a smorgasbord of opportunities, and I hadn’t passed on many of them.
“Well, of course, there are gang affiliations that can lead a young man astray. Some of the young men I met at Mackall came into the military from gangs. They’d been runners, lookouts, or soldiers, and we were able to use those skills and put them on the right path to benefit the citizens of the United States. I’ve been able to bring many of them into our fold. We have chapters of the Defenders in nearly every state onthe Eastern Seaboard, and they’re branching to other states out west.” Judge visibly puffed his chest with pride.
“So, most of these guys here have former gang affiliations?” I glanced around to see no people of color among the sea of Caucasian faces in the crowd of about thirty. Those pale faces hinted at the kind of gangs that usually stayed in the shadows or wore hoods over their heads to hide their identities.
“Well, not so much here, but most of them were raised by single mothers, grandmothers, aunts, or foster mothers. Like you, they’re susceptible to outside influences that could keep them from feeling respected as men and living their best lives.”
Three men walked by where Judge sat next to me, one of them touching him on the shoulder. “Oh, uh, sorry, Harper. It’s time for me to introduce Marty. He’s one of the founders of Defenders of the Faithful. I’ll find you after the rally.”
“Sure,” I said as I scooted to the end of the bench to see what was going on. I wasn’t the tallest guy, clocking in at five-seven, but I made up for my stature with ambition, or what my single mother called “gumption.”
I was just out of college with a degree in journalism burning a hole in my proverbial pocket. I had recently graduated from George Mason University in Northern Virginia—living at home the whole time—and I was itching to get out and experience the world.
During my senior year of college, I’d written a lifestyle column for an online LGBTQIA+ magazine to make cash for incidentals Mom and Granddad couldn’t afford, and now I itched to tackle meatier stories. I wanted to get my feet wet in the world of investigative journalism, and what better subject matter than a home-grown hate group disguising itself as a religious support group for young men.
My older cousin, Heath, had told me about the attempted recruitment of him into the group when he was training forSpecial Forces early in his military career. Art Judge had been his training officer, and he’d determined Heath was the kind of guy the Defenders of the Faithful wanted among their ranks. Heath was invited to Camp Brotherhood, but he declined. He’d said, “After what I heard Judge say, no way did I want to hear the hard-sell spiel from Martin Dale.”
I, however, was up for the challenge.
It was a blessing Heath didn’t fall for the bullshit I expected to hear when the pitch began, but I was grateful he’d told me the story and agreed to come with me to Southern Pines, North Carolina. I had a feeling it was good that Heath had walked away.
