Prey World - Organized Rage

Foreword

This is the English version of the third book of Alexander Merow`s "Prey World" series. The novel was translated by Thorsten Weber and the writer.

It is still no professional translation and the translator is still no "native speaker" or English teacher. He is just a guy, who loves science-fiction and dystopias. So try not to laugh at some of the translated phrases, or the wrath of a real freak will come over you! And Mr. Merow and his friend are really some kind of "freaks".

The author has already found a lot of interested readers all over Germany, and we hope that he will also find some new readers in the English-speaking countries. Furthermore, we would be glad, if a "real" mother-tongue speaker would edit this English version one day.

Now the fight against the World Government and the New World Order goes on. By the way, soon the fourth part of the "Prey World" series will be published in Germany. And we will also translate "Prey World IV – Counterrevolution" in the next months. Anyway, have fun with this book and start thinking about the world we live in. We are sure, that you will find a lot of similarities to reality.

And always remember...

"Only a fool would think that "Prey World" is nothing but fiction!" (Alexander Merow)

Alexander Merow and Thorsten Weber, Berlin 2011

Email: A.Merow@gmx.de

Артур чистoков

Дорога руси

Витебск в 2034 году

?My enemies will laugh about me. They will laugh about me and my movement, and will say: "That Tschistokjow is nothing but a little worm, because he has nothing. And a man who has nothing, is nothing but a little worm!"

Yes, maybe they have all the power, the money, the military and the media, but they forget that I have a lot of very strong allies! My allies are: poverty, hunger, discontent, hate, injustice, fear, hopelessness, despair, oppression, disorientation and many more!

A few decades ago, the Europeans have lived in a giant cage of illusions, our enemies had built for them. They have lived in the great illusion of freedom and wealth. And a false freedom and a deceitful wealth have been the two things which have made them to happy slaves. But these illusions have already died in 2018.

And all what remained were our allies, that will help us now to fight the world enemy. God bless our allies! They make us the gift of millions of Europeans who have nothing to lose anymore. They force the people to fight and sort out the cowards and weaklings. Therefore, the enemy should never underestimate our allies, because they will give us the hotbed a revolution needs!"

Artur Tschistokjow in: "The Way of the Rus", chapter XVIII, "The Coming Awakening"

"If you give the right ideas to the European man, he develops an incredible eagerness to bring order to the world around him, he brings the light of civilization to other continents, he writes down the greatest works of philosophy, he invents planes and spaceships to conquer the sky and even the universe. But if you give him the wrong ideas, he will use the same eagerness to destroy himself!"

Artur Tschistokjow in: "The Way of the Rus", chapter IX, "Rising from the Ashes"

"What is the greatest talent of the tick? It is the ability to fall on a dog and crawl through its coat to find a place to suck blood - all without being noticed. That`s the great skill nature has given to it.

But even thousands of ticks cannot rule over a dog`s life. To the contrary, they can only suck their host dry and kill it, because nature didn`t also give the tick the skill to reign. And it is the same with our enemies. The moment they gain command over this planet, their rule will start to crumble..."

Artur Tschistokjow in: "The Way of the Rus", chapter VI, "The Enemy Unmasked"

"The answer to the ingrained and malicious hate of the world enemy shall be the wrath of the righteous!"

Artur Tschistokjow in: "The Way of the Rus", chapter VII, "The Intellectual Base of Resistance"

Artur Tschistokjow

It was raining outside and darkness had fallen over the bleak estate of prefabricated houses in the southern part of the Belarusian city of Vitebsk. Artur Tschistokjow, a tall man of 31 years, sat at his shabby kitchen table and played thoughtfully with a little shot glass which danced around between his fingers.

He took another sip of cheap swill and stared at the wall with his bright, blue eyes. Today he was more nervous than ever, because the GSA, the international secret service, was upon his heels. Agents of the World Government had come to Belarus and intensively searched for him. This was no pleasant situation. But here, in this gray ghetto of apartment blocks, full of poverty and dreariness, they would not find him. Tschistokjow was not registered anymore, he had no more Scanchip and he left his apartment which had been rented by an unremarkable person, only in case of necessity. His friends and comrades supplied him with food and paid his bills. There was no other way.

The young man was always quiet and appeared to his neighbors as a shadow, when he sneaked along the corridor of his floor in the night, never saying a word.

Furthermore, he had no more telephone and no Internet connection. This was much too dangerous in a time of total surveillance. Artur Tschistokjow had just vanished, living a ghostly life now. No official data base could find him anymore – and this was his only chance to survive.

The Russian went to the fridge, an ugly, battered thing in the corner of his kitchen, and took out a sandwich. Then he sat down in the living room to drink the next bottle of vodka. This life was painful, but it was still better, than being caught and liquidated. Artur stroked through his stringy, blond hair and his long face with the pointed chin became a tragic mask. He looked out the window again, but there was nobody. Only the rain, the darkness and an old street lamp with a loose connection, flashing all the time.

Some of the windows in the block of flats opposite were still illuminated. Who lived his sad life behind those curtains? Perhaps a man who was just as unhappy as Tschistokjow. After a few hours, he fell asleep on the couch, with a woozy head. This day was over.

In the early morning hours of the next day came Peter Ulljewski, Artur`s best friend and political companion, bringing some bread and a dozen sausages. Peter was 34 years old and a craftsman. A few months ago, he had moved to Vitebsk, together with Artur, and lived now in a small apartment in the outskirts. The strong man with the angular face and the broad shoulders told Tschistokjow the latest news, what made his friend still more nervous.

"They have arrested two of our men last night, Andrej and Igor!", he said. "Both have distributed our newspapers, when the damn cops have caught them."

"Two men less...", muttered Artur, falling back on his shabby sofa.

"But this looks good, right?", remarked Peter, pulling a thin newspaper out of his pocket.

He gave it to his friend. Tschistokjow examined everything and finally nodded.

"Yes, it`s a great work, Peter. My editorial about the new administration tax is on the cover page. Nice!", meant Artur and smiled for a short moment.

"We will print about 10000 copies of this edition. I told our young comrades that they have to be more careful, when they distribute our promo material", said Peter and took a bottle of soda out of the fridge.

"At first, we will spread our newspapers and leaflets only in Vitebsk - and only in estates of prefabricated houses. In quarters like this, we will get the most encouragement from the population", ordered Tschistokjow with serious face.

"What`s about the stickers?"

"About 20000 are in print", replied Ulljewski.

"Okay! This is better than nothing." Artur tried to smile again and went straight to the window. "And the group in Minsk?"

"They want 20000 stickers too!", answered his comrade.

"If there is some money left, then we let them print as fast as possible", said Tschistokjow and drew the curtains.

"Three days ago, you were on television. They have shown a picture of you and asked the people for informations", told Ulljewski.

"I already know that – from Vladimir!", the blond man returned quietly. "Was something in the papers too?"

"Just a small article about our spraying last Tuesday. Nothing important, but meanwhile they know us! And they seem to pay a bit more attention to our actions..."

"Certainly!", murmured Tschistokjow thoughtfully.

"Anyhow, everything is ready for Saturday. What`s about your speech, Artur?", asked Ulljewski.

"I work on it! Don`t worry. I know enough things to say. This is our smallest problem, my friend!"

Some minutes later, Peter said goodbye and left the room silently.

"I`ll pick you up at 18.00 o`clock!", he finally whispered and shut the door behind him.

Artur Tschistokjow looked nervously around, while he thought about all the possible incidents that could happen during the meeting on Saturday. He prayed that everything would run smoothly, because even a little gathering was dangerous enough for him. If the police or the GSA would ever catch him, it all would have been in vain.

Two years ago, the young man from Kiev had assumed the leadership of the Freedom Movement of the Rus, an patriotic, anti-government organization of Belarusian resistance fighters who wanted to liberate their homeland from the tyranny of the World Government. At that time, he had still lived in Minsk. Meanwhile, the once tiny faction had become a small political factor, because of its restless and effective publicity campaigns.

Many people seemed to have sympathies for the Rus, but now the authorities and the GSA followed their traces and would not rest until Tschistokjow was in their hands. The enemy knew that he was the leader of the organization and the great hunt for him had already started.

Even television had reported about him several times, in the usual inflammatory way. He had been called a "terrorist" and a "dangerous lunatic". Furthermore, they had put a bounty on his head, although he just published political pamphlets and had never been violent so far.

If he had to leave his unremarkable apartment by day, he had to creep out like a rabbit, searched by a pack of gundogs.

He did not catch his neighbor`s eyes so far, Artur felt certain. Otherwise, the police had already visited him. The young man shunned the inner city of Vitebsk which was meanwhile cluttered with cameras and eye-ball-scanners.

His older brother and his parents had been arrested a year ago. With this action, they wanted to lure him out of his hiding place, but he was still nowhere to be seen. Perhaps, his family members had already been liquidated, because he had heard nothing from them since months. But to look for his parents and his brother, would have been some kind of suicide. Because of all this, his hatred had grown enormously, but he still felt helpless. Although an increasing number of Belarusians had barely Globes to live, hated the World Government and became more and more discontent, only a small group of men had joined his organization. Most people were just scared of losing even the rest of their pathetic existence.

The authorities threatened to block the Scanchips of all who supported or joined the Freedom Movement of the Rus in secret. In the worst case, helping the Rus could even mean imprisonment or execution.

This situation was terrible for everyone involved, and slowly the concerns of the once so creative and fun-loving young man ate him up from inside.

"I cut off, if necessary, to Japan, if I can`t stand this hell anymore", he said sometimes to himself and felt a little more relieved. But this feeling never lasted long, because the fear in his head was always there, in these sorrowful days.

?Goal!", screamed Frank Kohlhaas enthusiastically and turned around to his teammates. His best friend and today`s opponent, Alfred B?umer, looked angrily at him and clenched his teeth.

Frank had humiliated him again with his soccer skills. Now the goalkeeper shot the ball across the field and the match went on.

"Give me that thing!", Frank heard his teammate Sven shout from the other end of the field and brought the leather with a deliberate kick in the direction of the young man. Header, goal, Alfred landed in the dirt again and cursed.

"B?umer, even my grandma is faster!", scoffed a young man of Frank`s team. Alf growled at him and gave the ball an angry kick. The game still lasted for a further hour. Today it was sunny and warm. An ideal day for a football tournament in the Lithuanian village of Ivas. Finally, Frank Kohlhaas' team could defeat the other three teams from the tiny village and the young men walked off the field with a satisfied grin.

"What was wrong with you today, dude?", asked Frank the frustrated B?umer with sardonic undertone.

"No idea! Maybe I just wasn`t fit. Next time, we`ll sweep you from the field, Kohlhaas!", grudged the giant and kicked against the ball with a silent snarl.

Julia Wilden gave Frank an admiring glance and the young man answered with a broad smile.

"Franky, go on!", she yelled and made a victory sign.

"I dedicate my last goal to you, fair maiden!", called Kohlhaas and gave Alf a nudge in the ribs.

"Fuck off!", whispered B?umer and sat down on a stool.

It was a wonderful day. Julia was giving Frank all her attention and literally idolized him. Her father, the head of the village community of Ivas, clapped on his back and praised him too. "I didn`t know that you`re such a great dribbler, boy!"

This summer day, full of sports and fun, did Kohlhaas good. Today, he had thought not a second about the horrors of the Japanese war, which had wrapped up his mind so many times in the last months. The policy, the war and everything else seemed to have vanished in the distance. And the young man was glad about it.

"Let`s go to Sven for a drink!", suggested Alf and gave the impression, as if he had calmed down.

"Good idea, old man!", said Frank and smiled.

They went back to the village and finally visited Sven who was waiting for them with a beer case. So much fun and relaxation, the two friends had not had since months.

It was Saturday and the meeting was planned for today. The old warehouse, somewhere in the countryside of northern Belarus, was filled with nearly 200 people who were eagerly waiting for Artur Tschistokjow`s speech.

Except for a few abandoned farm houses and large fields, there was nothing around them. The leader of the Freedom Movement of the Rus looked nervously out the dirty window beside him. Meanwhile, it was 19.00 o`clock and it slowly got darker.

"I hope there are no informers among the people...", said Tschistokjow quietly to himself, breathing heavily, full of worry.

The fear that the police would suddenly approach, tortured Artur since hours. Some of his men stood near the entrance with guns in their hands, willing to defend themselves, if the cops should try to arrest them.

The leader of the group of Minsk, Mikhail, opened the gathering and got thunderous applause. He railed against the Belarusian politicians who served the World Government as administrators of the country. He called them "traitors", "criminals" and "bloodsuckers". Things like this, the discontent men who had come to the meeting, wanted to hear. It sounded like music in their ears, in a time when all hope seemed to be lost.

A comrade from Gomel turned to Artur and asked him to begin his speech. The young man walked up some wooden steps and went to an amateurish looking speaker`s desk, his fellows had made for him. The front part of the desk was covered with the flag of the organization.

Tschistokjow felt his heart pounding faster, while his comrades started to applaude. A very young boy came to the little stage and said reverently: "I`m proud to meet you personally, Mr. Tschistokjow. I have seen a report about you on television!"

The leader of the Rus smiled at him and beheld the naive appearing bunch of men in front of him. They looked up to him like believers to a priest. But what could he really give them?

"Not even a mouse must fear us...", he muttered to himself. Then he spoke to his followers.

"My dear comrades! I welcome you warmly to this meeting of the Freedom Movement of the Rus, our organization, which opposes the ruling system with all its limited resources.

There are some new men and women here today, some unknown faces, I don`t know yet. This is the way it should be. I hope that the coming hours will be peaceful, and no policemen will disturb us.

Today, we are about 200 people in this dilapidated old building. It is no great number, but it is better than nothing. You all risk your heads, when you come to us and join the fight against the exploitative system of global governance. I admire your courage, my comrades. And we will need brave men and women in the coming struggle for freedom.

But what else remains for us in these days? Shall we better continue to keep quiet? Shall we just try to survive by crawling from one bad paid job to the next? Trying not to become one of the homeless, by keeping our mouths shut in front of our masters?

No, this can not be the right way! We must defend ourselves and we will defend ourselves. Last week, the lackeys of the World Government in Minsk have started a new raid against our people. Raising the tax for administration, increasing the prices for electricity, even lower wages for those who still have some kind of work, and so on! They leave us no more air to breathe. They draw the noose tighter and tighter, squeezing the life out of our people. We should remember the old, better times. Times when a farmer could live from his yield, and a worker from what he has earned. Times when we had something like an own culture and were free men and women. Now we are slaves, and our land goes, slowly but surely, down the drain. Meanwhile, the Russians have just a few children, because it has become to expensive to raise a family.

Today, our young people have to emigrate to other countries to find work at all. Anyone who loses his job and doesn`t find a new one in time, ends as a beggar, becomes homeless – just dies.

In return, this government brings hundreds of thousands of foreigners from Asia and the Orient to our country, in order to get rid of the old Russian population. If you walk through some parts of Minsk, Moghilev, Grodno, Gomel and so on, you no longer believe that you are still on Russian territory.

They want to create here a patchwork of different nations, races and cultures, because this patchwork won`t resist them anymore.

We, the Russians, shall die out and disappear, if you listen to the speeches of Medschenko and his bunch of traitors. Television pollutes our minds with lies and all the meaningless entertainment, every day. They want to brainwash our nation and distract us from our misery.

But a small group of people here in Belarus is not poor, not at all! I`m talking about the group of collaborators in Minsk, the group of betrayers. They have a good life by squeezing out their own people! Sub-governor Medschenko is such a tick, and his whole staff of helpers too!"

"This son of a bitch should be hanged!", shouted one of the men through the hall.

"Medschenko and the rest of that traitor scum must be killed! Put them up against the wall!", screamed a young man, raising his fists.

The other people yelled and applauded. These words were like balm for their frustrated souls.

Artur Tschistokjow continued and slowly all the fear was falling from him. He seemed to become a giant, speaking with passion and gesticulating wildly.

"We demand that this country shall be independent again. Free from the global system of enslavement! We demand, that this country shall be governed only by Russians who serve their own nation!

This land belongs to the Russians, not the occupiers, the World Government or other foreigners!", he shouted and his supporters cheered.

Tschistokjow banged his fist on the desk and gave his men a determined look, his narrow face quivered with excitement.

"But we should not fool ourselves. Those who oppress us, will continue to serve the exploiters and won`t become reasonable or sensible tomorrow!

They won`t use the few Globes, they can still squeeze out of us, to build new schools, kindergartens or to generate more jobs. No! They will only give us more cameras, more paid informers, and will even call more GCF soldiers to our land, so that we can feed the oppressors with our money!

Furthermore, our country is totally indebted by the "Global Bank Trust", but there seems to be still enough money to finance this system of surveillance! We can still dwell in the dirt, while they tell us that the coffers of Belarus are empty, but this is a lie! They have money, but not for the people of Belarus. However, for GCF soldiers, for monitoring and for the foreigners who live on social welfare!

"Right!", yelled an old man, clapping his hands. Others also applauded and nodded at Artur Tschistokjow. He continued.

"When I decided, some years ago, to resist the destruction and looting of our fatherland, it was clear that I would soon reach a point of no return. Back then, I swore, I would make this country free and independent and give it back to its rightful owners - and that`s the people of Belarus!

I`m often scared that they find and kill me one day, but we all should not fear our enemies, because we are the fighters for the future of our children!", he called.

"Our movement will not rest until this country is finally free, and our countrymen shall no longer fear hunger and misery. If we die trying, then it shall be. What do we have to lose?