Free Enemy in Blue by Derek Blass Page B

crazy.”
    “ Bad tone Tomko. Harsh words. That's probably the wrong route to take given your current situation. But, I've got to tell you that Mr. Colt has always had a particular affinity for you and your loyalty.”
    “ Well, thank God for Mr. Fucking Colt's feelings ,” Tomko retorted sarcastically.
    “ Tomko,” Shaver snapped, “I told you to watch it. You'll hurt his feelings.”
    “ Jesus, you are crazy.”
    “ Guilty as charged!” Shaver said with an enormous smile. “I talk to a gun, and it makes life and death decisions for me. That's why you are so shit-your-pants afraid of me, Tomko.”
    Shaver stood up and circled Tomko. “You see, my old friend, this meek shall inherit the Earth bullshit is just that. Power rules. Inspiring fear in others creates power. People whine that if you rule with an iron fist no one will like you…waaa fucking waaa...” Shaver's face had become red and contorted. The veins in his head bulged. “Since when did a man's value come from how fucking popular or well-liked he was? That's a tool of the weak, Tomko. They create fictions, values—for self-preservation. I've gone beyond what society tells me is good or bad. I just ask Mr. Colt.” Tomko could say nothing and just stared at Shaver. “And…he says…well lucky you...” Shaver looked at the gun. “Really?” Shaver put the it back into the holster on his hip and turned to Tomko. He whispered, “Mr. Colt must be feeling especially fucking generous today.” Shaver sat down on the couch to his left.
    “ You're a goddamn lunatic!” Tomko yelled.
    “ Again…no argument here Tomko. Maybe, just maybe though, you'll realize that you are actually the lunatic for believing in all this shit ,” he spat as he waived a big paw in the general vicinity of the world . Shaver stopped and studied Tomko's face. “Back to business, it's time we get that drive. If we can deliver the drive, the Chief may let you live. If we don't get it, he'll kill us both.”
     

F I F T E E N
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    O kay then,” Diego said, “We'll fight together. But, it isn't going to be pretty or easy.”
    “ We know,” Sandra said.
    “ Let's see this drive you two have.”
    Sandra pulled a small USB drive out of her purse.
    “ Do you have a computer?” Cruz asked.
    “ I may be old, Cruz, but I'm no dummy.” Diego walked slowly into his house, beckoning the other two to follow. What Cruz saw when he got into the house was more like a shrine. There were pictures and posters of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and John F. Kennedy. There was a large oil painting of Emiliano Zapata hanging on the wall to their left.
    “ Diego,” Cruz started, “how do you reconcile these different positions? You've got MLK next to Zapata and I see a small picture of Che right over there.”
    “ Reconcile to whom, Cruz?” Diego turned like an aged merry-go-round as a smile lit on his face.
    “ Well, you are presenting two very different philosophies by mashing these historical figures together.”
    “ That's a narrow view. Their goals were all el mismo . They all fought in the same, timeless battle against la injusticia. The only difference is how they got there. It's just like our present situation. You came to me instead of, say, Sandra's papa. Why? Sometimes you need the olive branch and sometimes you need the hammer.” They continued moving on, back into a den. This area was filled with pictures of Diego—tons of pictures of Diego with other people.
    Sandra picked up a picture and asked, “You knew Cesar Chavez?”
    “ Si . We worked on a lettuce boycott together many, many years ago now. It was the first bit of organizing I had ever done.” Diego switched his computer on. As it fired up he stood with his back to the two, but both could see a tremendous sense of pride welled up in Diego.
    “ This pelea …this fight has taken so many resources for so many years. People have sacrificed their time, their money,