Chapter 1: Out of the Eye and in to the Storm
The nightmare was what woke Samiel Anderson that morning and not the normal high pitched, excessive, electronic bitching of the alarm clock. His mind was still littered with shards and fragments of the bizarre nightmare which shattered upon his awakening. Samiel ran his hands over his face as he sat there at the edge of the bed still trying to wake up. His hands passed over his bald scalp and the hot sweat acted as a lubricant that caused his head to nearly slip out of the trembling grip of his fingers. He couldn't believe they had talked him into it, even sitting there and thinking about it. It was for the cause, no more running, bowing and scraping. But was it right?
Even sitting there surrounded by reality, what was left of the dream embedded in his skull felt so real. He could still hear the screams and gunfire, he could still hear the bullets buzzing as they ricocheted off the buildings and pavements before whizzing through the air. "What kind of crazy shit was that?" Samiel asked the empty air of his room nearly half expecting an answer to a question that couldn't be anything but rhetorical. Only as a child had dreams ever been so vivid, well written and directed.
Samiel looked up from his hands and the familiar sight of his room was of some comfort to him, helping to further disintegrate the already fading dream. The walls were a gallery of pseudo-tough guys with contracts to rap and diamonds to flaunt and flatter with. Ironic many of them rapped about poverty and injustice and yet their precious diamonds may had been apart of some sort of injustice in another country. His floor was still littered with CD's and Games belonging to two different consoles, both rival controllers tangled at the base from excessive use but little care. Behind them stood the dark brown entertainment center holding his Television and Stereo together as if they were both one unit.
Samiel stood to his feet and pulled down the right leg of his black boxers that had become drawn up during what was obviously a fitful sleep. The thin, rectangular remote sat on the floor near the foot of the bed. Crossing over the silver and black comforter he must had kicked off in the middle of the night, Samiel picked it up, aimed at the Stereo and pushed power. The green-blue lights came alive before becoming numbers and words telling which track was sung by who. The speakers began to play and Nas' "It's a small world". For Samiel it was a ritual that commenced every morning he woke up. Naz would be followed by a Song from 2 Pac and then a song by Ray Charles, and then a song by the Doors. An odd mixture, but it all made sense to him.
Samiel first opened his door just enough to stick his head out and peer into the hallway. Pass the light tremor of bass from his speakers, he could hear the tell tale silence alerting him to the absence of his Parents and two younger sisters. He left the door open, no one was home to tell him it was too loud. Had to clear his mind, he had once heard in psychology class that stress was believed to cause nightmares.
It had to be done, he told himself even as he opened the heavy wood drawer and took a pair of black sweats and a gray t-shirt out to wear. Running always helped clear his head. Jonathan was right, if the authorities suspected anything they would have swarmed days or even weeks ago, the rally was tomorrow and not even a peep. Samiel couldn't believe they were actually going to go through with it, he forced himself to stop thinking about it as the anxiety of it all fluttered in his chest.
After he finished dressing for his run, he grabbed his CD player off the bed and left the room without turning off the stereo. His mind was a cacophony of thoughts as he walked down the hallway where all the other rooms, except for the bathroom; doors were all closed. Reaching the steps he looked over at the Family picture framed by the elaborate, heavy oak. Looking at the smiling faces of his Mother, Father, and two Sisters nearly made him feel guilty, but as he began down the steps it cemented his resolve. No more terror and no more fear. But was it right? What if they were caught?
Samiel stepped at the bottom step and turned toward the kitchen, the silence that prevailed in the house caught his attention beyond gratitude suddenly. Everyday the almost inaudible hum of the refrigerator and the endless ticking of the large clock hanging near the darkly colored, circular table where they ate dinner together every Sunday. For a moment Samiel started towards the kitchen then changed his mind and turned walking across the living room, opening the front door and going out.
Just as he crossed the threshold and the large, white front door shut behind him; Samiel pushed play on the dark gray CD player. Hendrix began to play over the round, black speakers covering his ears. He took only a few steps before he stopped and a small sliver of shock registered though him.
The oceanic sky loomed over head for what seemed like infinity in all directions. The soft blues were bleeding into violets and gold's where a few, pristine, white stars could be see sparely spotting parts of the sky. At the horizon the fiery orange was evidence the sun had traveled their to set, it nearly looked like it was glowing. The sky was an eerie and beautiful sight, his father always called that time of day twilight, he heard his grand parents use the same phrase.
"Damn, how long have I been sleep?" Samiel said to no one as he stared up at the sky that loomed massively above him. A second thought followed the first, then a third. How come no one woke him up? And were was everyone if it was nearly evening? Shaking his head he walked to the sidewalk and stretched a little as he pondered it all. With the CD fastened to the side of his sweats, he bent over touching the tips of his toes concealed by the black and gray running shoes his Father had bought him a few months before for his 22th birthday.
They were a bit expensive but the old man said he deserved them for keeping to the straight and narrow, he had to wondered what his Father would say if he knew what he had been doing. Samiel wondered what the old man would say if he knew what was going to happen and that he was going to behind it? His father always said violence rarely solved a problem, it just delayed a far worse situation.
Samiel forced himself to stop thinking about it before he could wonder what his Mother might say, he didn't allow the guilt to build. Instead, Samiel began to jog down the street as he took the same path he always when he cut through the quiet suburb of middle class and upper middle class families. He took out his key to unlock the black, metal gate which separated his court from the nature trail.
