Judgment at Alcatraz by Dave Edlund (best historical fiction books of all time txt) 📗

It weighed about a pound, and she accelerated it toward Charlie’s head with all the force she could muster. The mass of concrete delivered a satisfying thud when it connected with his head. She felt his grip slacken, and pushed herself free. She brought the bludgeon down again, slamming it into his forehead in a lethal blow.

Charlie’s arms fell limp. She tossed the chunk of concrete aside, revealing a blood-filled depression in his forehead.

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“I don’t think they’ll be back,” Leonard said.

He’d left his sniper hide and joined Sacheen on the dock where others were busy preparing the drones.

“They’ll try again,” Sacheen said, “but not right away. First, the local police and FBI will need to coordinate. Probably Homeland Security, too, since the Coast Guard is under their command.”

“How long do we have?” he said.

“Plenty of time to get the drones prepared, and send an even stronger message.”

Eight quadcopter drones were in a line, spaced several feet apart, in the middle of the courtyard. Each was equipped with an ultra-miniature camera. Originally developed for the US Army, the camera and integral transmitter weighed less than an ounce, and were capable of sending real-time video over the cellular network. With a range of over eight miles, the drones could transmit live video from San Francisco, and cities along the East Bay—Richmond, Berkeley, and Oakland.

Each drone was flown using a radio controller modified with a high-power transmitter. By clipping a cell phone to the controller, the pilot would have direct observations of the transmitted video, making immediate in-flight course adjustments if necessary to avoid interception.

Vernon Thunderhawk was supervising the preparations.

“As soon as we run a system check to verify comms and video,” he said to Sacheen, “the first drone will be flight ready.”

She was observing the men carryout the preparations.

“Good,” she replied. “Once the drone is ready, get suited up and insert the payload. Load up the other drones, too, and stage them along the edge of the dock, far enough away so as not to irradiate our warriors. Understand?”

He nodded. “No problem.”

“Good.”

“What’s the destination?”

“San Francisco. Think you can pilot the drone to Pioneer Park?”

“With Coit Tower standing as a guiding beacon, it will be easy.” He smiled.

“Complete the preparations, but do not launch until I return. I want to speak with someone.”

Sacheen strode to the barracks entrance. She wanted to try once more to convince Toby to join her cause.

Upon entering, she found herself in a gift shop. Beyond the gift shop was a movie theater which normally played a short documentary film about the former prison. A couple minutes of the film told the story of the brief first American Indian occupation in 1964, followed by the more widely known occupation spanning from November 1969 until June 1971.

She surveyed the crowd of hostages. It wasn’t long before she spotted Toby sitting with her back against the wall and her knees drawn up against her chest. She approached and sat next to Toby.

After a moment, she said, “I’ll make sure someone distributes water. I don’t think there’s much food to be had. Mostly just some candy in the gift shop. I’m sorry. I’ll ask one of the warriors to distribute what we can find for the children.”

Toby fixed her gaze on the far side of the room.

Sacheen said, “Everyone will be released before long. Maybe a day. Two, at most.”

Toby remained silent.

“It’s not my wish to harm these people. But this action is necessary. Your spirit is strong. You should stand with your people.”

Toby turned to Sacheen, her eyes filled with anger.

“You have no right. These people you have kidnapped, and now threaten, what have they done to you? What have they done to any of the tribes?”

“The wars between American Natives and the federal government never ended,” Sacheen said. “In the 1960s and 70s, many brave people risked everything to raise awareness for the rights of Indigenous People. The American Indian Movement, and Indians of All Tribes, carried our message to the public. Even as we protested peacefully, the government assaulted and murdered our young men and women.”

“Past transgressions do not justify your actions,” Toby said. “One can always find some historical wrong that was done to one group or another. The cycle of violence has to be broken.”

“Spoken like a true idealist.” Sacheen paused, but Toby offered no reply. “Have you suffered any mistreatment, any violence at the hands of the police or white mobs?”

Toby thought of the harassment and threats from Cole and his brother, but decided to keep that to herself.

“I’d imagine you have,” Sacheen said, “but would rather lie to yourself than admit the truth. Your home in Southern Oregon, near the Klamath Reservation, is fertile land, ranch land. Lots of rednecks there, right?”

“Bigots are found everywhere, even in the tribes.”

“I’m not your enemy,” Sacheen said. “Haven’t you ever yearned for a family?”

Toby gazed back in silence, but her eyes said what her heart felt.

Sacheen nodded. “I don’t want to be a revolutionary. But if not me, then who? How long must we wait patiently before our children have a future? Before the chain of poverty is broken?”

Toby slowly shook her head. “This is not the way. We will never win by force. Hasn’t history taught you anything?”

Sacheen gazed at the ceiling. “Would you have me bring a child into this world to life on the reservation?” She wiped her eyes, the back of her hand coming away moist. “I can’t do that. What kind of person does that make me?”

“I don’t know.”

Sacheen cleared her throat. “Our people have tried negotiating with the government. We’ve tried protesting for our civil rights. We’ve demanded to be treated equally. It doesn’t work.”

“Our people have lost many battles, but not the war.”

She appraised Toby again. She saw strong character, loyalty, determination, honesty, intelligence. Traits that would make her a good spokesperson to carry their message to the public. Plus, she was a young and attractive woman, with obvious Native American features. She would be the perfect image of the Indigenous