Prey World - Organized Rage

Foreword

This is the English version of the third book of Alexander Merow`s "Prey World" series. The novel was translated by Thorsten Weber and the writer.

It is still no professional translation and the translator is still no "native speaker" or English teacher. He is just a guy, who loves science-fiction and dystopias. So try not to laugh at some of the translated phrases, or the wrath of a real freak will come over you! And Mr. Merow and his friend are really some kind of "freaks".

The author has already found a lot of interested readers all over Germany, and we hope that he will also find some new readers in the English-speaking countries. Furthermore, we would be glad, if a "real" mother-tongue speaker would edit this English version one day.

Now the fight against the World Government and the New World Order goes on. By the way, soon the fourth part of the "Prey World" series will be published in Germany. And we will also translate "Prey World IV – Counterrevolution" in the next months. Anyway, have fun with this book and start thinking about the world we live in. We are sure, that you will find a lot of similarities to reality.

And always remember...

"Only a fool would think that "Prey World" is nothing but fiction!" (Alexander Merow)

Alexander Merow and Thorsten Weber, Berlin 2011

Email: A.Merow@gmx.de

Артур чистoков

Дорога руси

Витебск в 2034 году

?My enemies will laugh about me. They will laugh about me and my movement, and will say: "That Tschistokjow is nothing but a little worm, because he has nothing. And a man who has nothing, is nothing but a little worm!"

Yes, maybe they have all the power, the money, the military and the media, but they forget that I have a lot of very strong allies! My allies are: poverty, hunger, discontent, hate, injustice, fear, hopelessness, despair, oppression, disorientation and many more!

A few decades ago, the Europeans have lived in a giant cage of illusions, our enemies had built for them. They have lived in the great illusion of freedom and wealth. And a false freedom and a deceitful wealth have been the two things which have made them to happy slaves. But these illusions have already died in 2018.

And all what remained were our allies, that will help us now to fight the world enemy. God bless our allies! They make us the gift of millions of Europeans who have nothing to lose anymore. They force the people to fight and sort out the cowards and weaklings. Therefore, the enemy should never underestimate our allies, because they will give us the hotbed a revolution needs!"

Artur Tschistokjow in: "The Way of the Rus", chapter XVIII, "The Coming Awakening"

"If you give the right ideas to the European man, he develops an incredible eagerness to bring order to the world around him, he brings the light of civilization to other continents, he writes down the greatest works of philosophy, he invents planes and spaceships to conquer the sky and even the universe. But if you give him the wrong ideas, he will use the same eagerness to destroy himself!"

Artur Tschistokjow in: "The Way of the Rus", chapter IX, "Rising from the Ashes"

"What is the greatest talent of the tick? It is the ability to fall on a dog and crawl through its coat to find a place to suck blood - all without being noticed. That`s the great skill nature has given to it.

But even thousands of ticks cannot rule over a dog`s life. To the contrary, they can only suck their host dry and kill it, because nature didn`t also give the tick the skill to reign. And it is the same with our enemies. The moment they gain command over this planet, their rule will start to crumble..."

Artur Tschistokjow in: "The Way of the Rus", chapter VI, "The Enemy Unmasked"

"The answer to the ingrained and malicious hate of the world enemy shall be the wrath of the righteous!"

Artur Tschistokjow in: "The Way of the Rus", chapter VII, "The Intellectual Base of Resistance"

Artur Tschistokjow

It was raining outside and darkness had fallen over the bleak estate of prefabricated houses in the southern part of the Belarusian city of Vitebsk. Artur Tschistokjow, a tall man of 31 years, sat at his shabby kitchen table and played thoughtfully with a little shot glass which danced around between his fingers.

He took another sip of cheap swill and stared at the wall with his bright, blue eyes. Today he was more nervous than ever, because the GSA, the international secret service, was upon his heels. Agents of the World Government had come to Belarus and intensively searched for him. This was no pleasant situation. But here, in this gray ghetto of apartment blocks, full of poverty and dreariness, they would not find him. Tschistokjow was not registered anymore, he had no more Scanchip and he left his apartment which had been rented by an unremarkable person, only in case of necessity. His friends and comrades supplied him with food and paid his bills. There was no other way.

The young man was always quiet and appeared to his neighbors as a shadow, when he sneaked along the corridor of his floor in the night, never saying a word.

Furthermore, he had no more telephone and no Internet connection. This was much too dangerous in a time of total surveillance. Artur Tschistokjow had just vanished, living a ghostly life now. No official data base could find him anymore – and this was his only chance to survive.

The Russian went to the fridge, an ugly, battered thing in the corner of his kitchen, and took out a sandwich. Then he sat down in the living room to drink the next bottle of vodka. This life was painful, but it was still better, than being caught and liquidated. Artur stroked through his stringy, blond hair and his long face with the pointed chin became a tragic mask. He looked out the window again, but there was nobody. Only the rain, the darkness and an old street lamp with a loose connection, flashing all the time.

Some of the windows in the block of flats opposite were still illuminated. Who lived his sad life behind those curtains? Perhaps a man who was just as unhappy as Tschistokjow. After a few hours, he fell asleep on the couch, with a woozy head. This day was over.

In the early morning hours of the next day came Peter Ulljewski, Artur`s best friend and political companion, bringing some bread and a dozen sausages. Peter was 34 years old and a craftsman. A few months ago, he had moved to Vitebsk, together with Artur, and lived now in a small apartment in the outskirts. The strong man with the angular face and the broad shoulders told Tschistokjow the latest news, what made his friend still more nervous.

"They have arrested two of our men last night, Andrej and Igor!", he said. "Both have distributed our newspapers, when the damn cops have caught them."

"Two men less...", muttered Artur, falling back on his shabby sofa.

"But this looks good, right?", remarked Peter, pulling a thin newspaper out of his pocket.

He gave it to his friend. Tschistokjow examined everything and finally nodded.

"Yes, it`s a great work, Peter. My editorial about the new administration tax is on the cover page. Nice!", meant Artur and smiled for a short moment.

"We will print about 10000 copies of this edition. I told our young comrades that they have to be more careful, when they distribute our promo material", said Peter and took a bottle of soda out of the fridge.

"At first, we will spread our newspapers and leaflets only in Vitebsk - and only in estates of prefabricated houses. In quarters like this, we will get the most encouragement from the population", ordered Tschistokjow with serious face.

"What`s about the stickers?"

"About 20000 are in print", replied Ulljewski.

"Okay! This is better than nothing." Artur tried to smile again and went straight to the window. "And the group in Minsk?"

"They want 20000 stickers too!", answered his comrade.

"If there is some money left, then we let them print as fast as possible", said Tschistokjow and drew the curtains.

"Three days ago, you were on television. They have shown a picture of you and asked the people for informations", told Ulljewski.

"I already know that – from Vladimir!", the blond man returned quietly. "Was something in the papers too?"

"Just a small article about our spraying last Tuesday. Nothing important, but meanwhile they know us! And they seem to pay a bit more attention to our actions..."

"Certainly!", murmured Tschistokjow thoughtfully.

"Anyhow, everything is ready for Saturday. What`s about your speech, Artur?", asked Ulljewski.

"I work on it! Don`t worry. I know enough things to say. This is our smallest problem, my friend!"

Some minutes later, Peter said goodbye and left the room silently.

"I`ll pick you up at 18.00 o`clock!", he finally whispered and shut the door behind him.

Artur Tschistokjow looked nervously around, while he thought about all the possible incidents that could happen during the meeting on Saturday. He prayed that everything would run smoothly, because even a little gathering was dangerous enough for him. If the police or the GSA would ever catch him, it all would have been in vain.

Two years ago, the young man from Kiev had assumed the leadership of the Freedom Movement of the Rus, an patriotic, anti-government organization of Belarusian resistance fighters who wanted to liberate their homeland from the tyranny of the World Government. At that time, he had still lived in Minsk. Meanwhile, the once tiny faction had become a small political factor, because of its restless and effective publicity campaigns.

Many people seemed to have sympathies for the Rus, but now the authorities and the GSA followed their traces and would not rest until Tschistokjow was in their hands. The enemy knew that he was the leader of the organization and the great hunt for him had already started.

Even television had reported about him several times, in the usual inflammatory way. He had been called a "terrorist" and a "dangerous lunatic". Furthermore, they had put a bounty on his head, although he just published political pamphlets and had never been violent so far.

If he had to leave his unremarkable apartment by day, he had to creep out like a rabbit, searched by a pack of gundogs.

He did not catch his neighbor`s eyes so far, Artur felt certain. Otherwise, the police had already visited him. The young man shunned the inner city of Vitebsk which was meanwhile cluttered with cameras and eye-ball-scanners.

His older brother and his parents had been arrested a year ago. With this action, they wanted to lure him out of his hiding place, but he was still nowhere to be seen. Perhaps, his family members had already been liquidated, because he had heard nothing from them since months. But to look for his parents and his brother, would have been some kind of suicide. Because of all this, his hatred had grown enormously, but he still felt helpless. Although an increasing number of Belarusians had barely Globes to live, hated the World Government and became more and more discontent, only a small group of men had joined his organization. Most people were just scared of losing even the rest of their pathetic existence.