Free Black Helicopters by Blythe Woolston Page B

the fire at Willow Gulch.
    There is nothing new about Da.
    I type in “black helicopters.”
    There is so much to read, and some of it isn’t like what Da said. I decide to not believe things that say there are no black helicopters or that the black helicopters are from outer space. I think Those People do not want the truth to be told, and one way to cover up the truth is to tell lies.
    But Da taught me enough to know truth from lies, so I can learn more truth. I follow the links from one truthful thing to another.
    There are reports of a growing number of large, unmarked black helicopters. Black helicopters with no distinct markings are being seen daily in multiple states by many different people. It is extremely important that people get VIDEOS and pictures of these sightings.
    I cringe when I watch the videos. I can hear the helicopters — pock-a-pock-pock-POCK-A-POCK! — through the computer speakers. It’s all I can do to look at them on the computer screen. I have to remember it is like TV. The sharks on TV couldn’t bite me when I was little and these black helicopters can’t see me, can’t hurt me. I have to be brave enough to see this, to know this.
    Black helicopters have been flying over my city at sunrise. They travel in groups of three, usually, and fly low, maybe 100 or 150 feet above the ground. My neighbors have seen them, too. The noise wakes people up, but there’s never anything about it on the news.
    I read so many messages like that one. So many people know what is happening, but the messages aren’t getting through.
    . . . DEA uses black helicopters also . . .
    . . . dark camouflage . . .
    . . . no identifying marks . . .
    . . . numbers there, but cammoed, you got to be real close to see. Can’t see them when they fly overhead . . .
    . . . black-op military units conduct operations on US soil against citizens . . .
    . . . FEDGOV and its bootlickers just say “conspiracy theorist.” The sheeple hear that and go back to their TV trances . . .
    I can hear Da’s voice: “We will sound the alarm. People will wake up.”
    Captain Nichols is back. He is standing behind the chair, reading over my shoulder.
    I can smell his smell and feel him, there, close but not touching.
    “You got a one-track mind, kid.” And then his big hand slides down my shoulder and onto my chest. He pinches me there, he grabs me with all of his fingers, and it hurts. When I try to stand, the chair with wheels falls over, and I fall with it. Captain Nichols grabs my hair and the back of my neck. He drags me up and bends me over the desk beside the computer.
    There is a picture of a black helicopter on the screen.
    His other hand pushes my pants down.
    “We need to talk about the rent,” says Captain Nichols. “You owe me some rent.” He pushes his thumb, wide and thick as a hammer handle into me. It hurts. I stay very still. Captain Nichols leans over me and says, “I make one call. That’s all it takes. I make one call, and the other kid is dead. I say he’s dirty, and they will shoot him down. Nobody will ever find him. Nobody will know. Except you. You’ll know. You’ll know you did it.” His thumb is out of my body. “So this is the deal. This ain’t no charity outfit. You pay the rent; there’s no trouble. You say one word, you try anything, and both of you will be dead. But he’ll be dead first. And you’ll know it.”
    I pay the rent.
    After I pay the rent, I have to watch the movies. That is part of paying the rent. I have to see her, the girl with white hair and the wide-apart eyes, the girl with that body, pay the rent.
    She holds the gun by her cheek. She kisses the gun. She puts the gun in her mouth. She puts the gun inside her down there. She pulls the trigger, but there is no bullet. She pulls the trigger, but there is no bullet. She puts the gun in deeper, deeper and faster.
    I have to be brave enough to see this, to be this. I have to see what the world will see when they look at her, when