his entrance into the MANIACs after a short stint in the military police. Once in the MANIACs, he served several years under Payne, planning a variety of successful missions.
“Now that we know about the Plantation itself, we need to talk about points of entry. How are we supposed to get onto the island?”
Blount answered. “The only way to gets onto the island is from the western dock. Cypress swamps is gonna block every other way to this place.”
“Then tell me about the west. What do we have to worry about before the dock?”
“There be a clean path, right down the middle, and you needs to follow it to avoid trouble. If you goes to one side of the path, boom! You hits some stumps. If you goes to the other side, boom! You hits some trees. But, if you stays in the middle—”
“Boom! The guards see us coming and blow our asses out of the water.”
Blount laughed at Jones’s comment. “That’s right! We’s gonna be gator stew!”
“If that’s the case,” Jones continued, “how do you recommend us getting there? If we can’t use the dock without being seen, how can we get there undetected?”
“Why does you want to make this so complicated, Mr. Jones? There ain’t no reason to find no back door when the front door is working just fine.”
“But I thought you said that there’ll be guards at the western dock.”
“Yep,” he chuckled, “but the guards won’t be expectin’ what I has in mind.”
“And what is that?”
Payne and Jones listened to Blount’s idea and liked what they heard. Even though they had won dozens of military awards, had planned intricate missions through several of the world’s most hostile countries, and had been in charge of the most elite fighting force in America’s history, they were forced to admit that Bennie Blount, a dreadlocked, slow-talking buckwheat from the bayou, had bested their military minds by devising the perfect plan all by himself.
And most importantly, it was simple enough that even he couldn’t screw it up.
DANCING slightly with every hill and crevice, the headlights of the all-terrain vehicles looked like giant fireflies as they skimmed across the landscape of the Plantation. When the motors could finally be heard, the three groups of prisoners turned and watched the arrival of the two men. Wearing black hoods and thick cloaks, Jackson and Webster soared through the darkness, looking like supernatural beings on a mystical quest, their ebony robes flapping in the great rush of air. It was the type of entrance that nightmares were made of.
After stopping his vehicle, Jackson climbed off his ATV and walked toward Holmes, who was impatiently sitting on his steed. “Sorry we took so long. Right after you left, we got a phone call that we had to deal with.”
“Is everything all right?” Holmes asked.
Jackson nodded. “It seems that we’re going to be getting a few more captives, but it’s nothing to worry about.”
Even though he wanted to hear about the new arrivals, Holmes realized this wasn’t the time or place. He had more important things to deal with, like his announcement. “People, you have already met Master Jackson and myself. Now, it’s time to meet the real brains of the Plantation. I want you to say hello to Master Webster.”
Despite their hatred of the man, the group screamed in unison. “Hello, Master Webster!”
Webster laughed under his hood. When he’d started this mission of revenge, he had dreamed of this moment, but now that it was here, he no longer knew how to react. His reality had somehow intersected with his dream world, and he could no longer discern which was which.
“Soon the sun will rise on the Fourth of July. Independence Day. A day to celebrate the freedom of this great nation.” Webster took a deep breath while staring at the attentive crowd, wondering if they would understand the irony of their situation. “Unfortunately, some Americans weren’t given their freedom in 1776. In fact, thousands of men and women from the United States weren’t given their emancipation until after the Civil War had concluded. Yet we as a nation celebrate our independence on this day and this day alone. Ironic, isn’t it? A country celebrates its freedom on a day when only half of us were freed!”
He cleared his throat as the prisoners thought about his words.
“Wait! You want irony? Independence means freedom from control and restrictions. That’s the basic concept, right? So what’s the opposite of independence? Slavery! Back in the days, white people used