Unpainted Warrior

Harry Red Cloud listened to his favorite song through the earpiece of his Ipod as he sat in the back of a yellow cab heading to the convention center:

♫They took the whole Indian nation...Put us on this reservation...Took away our way of life...The tomahawk and the Bowie knife...Took away our native tongue...Taught their English to our young...♫

Red Cloud thought how true it was that he and his people either had to accept the White Man's ways or live in abject poverty on the reservation. No tomahawk or Bowie knife for him. No war paint and no feathered headdress. He wore a business suit and sported a crew cut. Most people did not seem to realize that he was Native American.

"Hey buddy," inquired the cabbie, "what tune are you listening to?"
"Indian Reservation," Red Cloud replied.
"Right on. That's one of my favorites."

♫...Cherokee people...Cherokee tribe...So proud to live...so proud to DIE...♫

As the music and lyrics filled up his earpiece, he felt Wankantaka, the Great One's presence in his heart; however, he also felt the acid in his stomach race to his throat. The task ahead of him was daunting if not impossible.

Meanwhile, at the convention center, reporters and camera crews were arriving. President elect, John Glickman, was going to give a press conference. He and his party had just captured the White House and both houses of Congress.

Sitting in the greenroom with his speechwriters and advisors, Glickman had a slight problem. "I'm not sure which speech to go with here. Help me out here people!" His chief advisor's eyes darted back and forth between the two speeches Glickman was holding. He then pointed to the speech in Glickman's left hand. "Go with that one, sir. It's what the public wants to hear according to the polls."

Pulling into the parking lot, the cab carrying Red Cloud came to an abrupt halt. "That'll be $8.32, sir." As Red Cloud paid the cabbie, he stared at the faces of our forefathers on the bills. It seemed as though they were taunting him. "The only good Injun is a dead Injun. This is our land now, redskin!" "Hey, you all right, pal?" the cabbie inquired.

Startled, Red Cloud shook off his hallucination. "Yeah, I'm all right. I haven't slept in a couple of days so I'm a little punchy." As Red Cloud exited the cab, the cabbie fired back, "OK then. Drink some coffee and you'll be fine. Have a nice day." The cab then bolted from the parking lot and disappeared down the street.

In the thick of the mob, Red Cloud fidgeted waiting for the center's entrance doors to open. A billowing trail of smoke suddenly enveloped his face. The smoke was from a cigarette belonging to tall, slender, smartly-dressed woman with flaming red hair and piercing green eyes. It was Allison Jones, Washington correspondent for KRCF news.

She let her cigarette smoke trail to his face like he wasn't there, like he was nothing--another worthless redskin. "Typical," he fumed, as he stood there thinking to himself. Clean air was sacred to him. He wanted to tell her to put the cigarette out. Instead, he tightened his lips and locked his jaw. He did not want to draw attention to himself, so he simply moved to her opposite flank.

Suddenly, while digging through her purse, Allison's face turned sour. "Damn!" she cursed. She turned to her cameraman. "Jeff, I forgot my meds We're gonna have to skip the question and answer session. Let's just get a shot of the President, then I'll do a quick rap up." "Sure thing, Allison," Jeff replied with concern bordering on worry.

Inside the convention center the security sergeant was breaking in a new trainee. "It's 8.00 A.M. on the button. Take these keys and open the entrance doors."

From inside the greenroom, the President and his people abruptly emerged. Glickman turned to his aide. "Are the mikes set up for a sound check?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Let's do this."

As the entrance doors opened, reporters, camera crews, and visitors filed in and lined up before the metal detector. As he waited for his turn, Red Cloud focused on the security sergeant then his eyes targeted the security trainee. They were busy checking everyone's bags and running hand-held scanners over anyone who made the detector beep.

Both the sergeant and the trainee traded glances with him. A lone bead of sweat slid down his cheek. Normally, security measures did not bother him, but today was a special day. Inside his coat pocket was a .44 Magnum.

Place: A dimly lit warehouse somewhere in Washington D.C.
Time: 8:01 A.M.

"Will our plan be executed?"

"Yes, I just received a text message from the convention center."

"Are you sure the new man can be trusted to carry out the mission?"

"Yes, he hates America and the atrocities its people have committed. He is willing to die for our cause."

"May Allah be praised."

"Yes, praise to Allah."

Place: The convention center.
Time: 8:03 A.M.

Red Cloud grew more anxious as he moved up in line closer to the security guards and the metal detector. He did not want his cover blown. The element of surprise was essential.

President Glickman was at the podium, cameras were flashing, the piercing whine of feedback from his microphones filled the room. As Glickman delivered his speech, Allison Jones felt faint. "Jeff...I...I..don't feel so good..."

Suddenly, a shot rang out! The bullet stabbed the ceiling. "OK! EVERYONE KISS THE F*****G FLOOR NOW!!! NOT YOU, GLICKMAN! YOU STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE! DON'T YOU F*****G MOVE!"

Glickman froze like a deer in headlights. Jeff, worried sick about Allison, shouted, "Please, don't shoot; let us leave! She has diabetes and needs her meds! She may--"

"SHUT THE F*** UP! TELL HER TO QUIT MOANING OR I'LL PUT YOU BOTH OUT OF YOUR F*****G MISERY!"

Jeff wet his pants as he put his hand over Allison's mouth to quiet her. The rest of the crowd, now face down on the floor, delivered a cacophony of muffled sobs and intermittent shrieks of terror. "THAT GOES FOR THE REST OF YOU TOO! NOW SHUT THE F*** UP!"

"What is it you want!" demanded Glickman, finding the courage he was famous for.

"YOU MR. PRESIDENT WILL AGREE TO WITHDRAW ALL TROUPS FROM THE MIDDLE EAST AND SIGN THIS TREATY OR I WILL PUT A BULLET RIGHT BETWEEN YOUR F*****G EYES!"

"I don't negotiate with terrorists!" Glickman retorted, shutting his eyes and bracing himself for certain death. He figured he would be killed anyway. He believed that terrorists who decapitated innocent red cross workers in Iraq, and murdered thousands of innocent civilians in Manhattan would never keep a promise to let him live if he cooperated with one of them.

Didn't the terrorists who crashed the planes into the Twin Towers and the Pentagon promise the passengers of those planes that everything would be alright if they cooperated? For these reasons he prepared himself to die for his country; he would not be fooled by a false promise. "Go ahead! Shoot me if you must! Kill me like you kill innocent civilians!"

Red Cloud took careful aim. He was a trained sharp shooter; his hand was steady and his finger firmly squeezed the trigger. The bullet from his Magnum punched a dime hole in the terrorist's temple and upon its exit, brain matter and blood splattered the pristine marble of the convention center.

The terrorist got off a shot but it missed its mark thanks to Red Cloud's marksmanship. The terrorist staggered and writhed for a moment, then fell face down in the puddle of blood and brain matter that Red Cloud had made for him.

"Mr. President, are you alright, sir?!"

"Yes, who are you? I thought you and the man you just shot were both terrorists."

"I'm Special Agent Red Cloud, sir. I was working undercover."

"Well, thank you Special Agent Red Cloud. You saved my life!"

"Just doing my job, sir."

Red Cloud then turned to the security guards who were now on their feet. "Evacuate the building and call an ambulance for this woman." He helped Jeff carry Allison outside. The ambulance arrived shortly thereafter and took Allison to the nearest ER.

The tune "Indian Reservation" whistled in his coat pocket. It was his cell phone. "Red Cloud here." Sir, the terrorist cell has been apprehended and neutralized. We traced them to an old warehouse. "Good work. Everything is secure here at the convention center."

Red Cloud was a hero that day. Sure, he despised what the white man had done to his people, but he took an oath to serve and protect. His word was good even if the white man's government had broken its promises and treaties to his people.

Besides, his job's pay and benefits were not half bad and he had a huge school loan to pay off.