“I don’t think so. I’ll be back.”
“I heard that,” Gus said. “Don’t do any ‘Terminator’ stuff over there. You’re in enough trouble as it is.”
Nick waved off Gus. As he drew closer, the slogans shouted became clearer. Nick realized with confusion the crowd of about twenty people were protesting the American Flag on the pole in front of the school. He angled around the crowd with other parents dropping off their kids to see who was in front of the mob. A thin, dark skinned man, looking to be a couple inches taller than Nick’s six foot height faced the mob calmly. Nick had noticed him taking his two boys to school before. He stood with his arms folded over chest in front of the flagpole, listening to the two men in front of him shouting in his face. Nick moved nearer to the flagpole exchange. The parent in front of the flagpole was blocking the crowd from cutting down the flag. The suited, olive skinned man arguing with him spoke with a distinctly Iranian accent, Nick recognized. The crowd edged nearer. Nick grinned. Sorry, Gus, he thought, I’ll have to get a piece of this. Nick walked over next to the man in front of the pole.
The man glanced at Nick, ignoring his assailants. “Mr. McCarty. How are you, Sir? I’ve read all your novels. I thought about introducing myself a bunch of times. I’m Jim Amos. My boys attend school here.”
“Just Nick.” He shook hands with the parent. Nick raised his voice to be heard over the slogan shouters in front of them. “Nice to meet you, Jim. These people want to take down the flag, huh?”
Amos smiled. “Yeah, Nick, that’s what they want to do. I read where you were in Delta. I’m still in the Marine reserves, and fought in the second Gulf War. No one tears the flag down here in front of my kids’ elementary school unless they do it over my dead body.”
“Our dead bodies, brother.” Nick turned with folded arms next to Amos. “Do you know this idiot shouting at us in front, Jim?”
“Yeah… he’s-”
“Did you just call me an idiot?!” The olive skinned man moved in front of Nick, poking his finger threateningly in Nick’s chest, as the rest of the crowd quieted. “I am Dr. Habib Rashidi. We want this nationalistic symbol of oppression removed at once! America murders innocents all over the globe under this symbol of tyranny. It offends the undocumented immigrants, and progressive thinking citizens, who want nothing to do with the genocide committed under its obscene banner.”
Nick smiled at the apoplectic Rashidi. “Gee, Doc, that’s too bad. Maybe you should either stop looking at it, or get the hell out of our country.”
A cheer went up from parents milling around the confrontational edges. Before Rashidi could speak, two women joined Nick and Jim. A slender brown haired woman walked in between Rashidi and Nick to shake hands with the two unmoving sentinels.
“Rita Gonzalez, Army, two tours Afghanistan.”
“Welcome. I’m Nick McCarty. This is Jim Amos.”
Rita continued over to stand at Amos’s side, before facing the now nearly silent crowd. “No one messes with the flag… no one!”
The other auburn haired woman stood next to Nick. “Hi guys. Can I get a piece of this? I’m Ruth Gurkovsky, Air Force retired, Iraq and Afghanistan, brothers.”
“Sure can, Sis.” Nick noticed other men and women filling in around them.
Seeing his protest ripped away moment by moment, Rashidi began another finger poking session at Nick. Gurkovsky snatched his hand out of the air, and in seconds Rashidi was on his knees, face twisted in pain. “Didn’t your mamma ever teach you it’s rude to point? I assume she didn’t. Take this lesson to heart, ass-wipe. Point again, and I rip it off, and shove it up your ass.”
Ruth released him with enough of a push off to land Rashidi on his butt to the loudly cheering backers behind her. Police cars drove next to the confrontation with revolving light show, but turned off their sirens. Nick sighed, seeing Sergeant Dickerson approaching with five other officers behind him. Dickerson shook his head as the other officers strode in between the two groups. Nick gave him a little wave.
“I might have known. Would you care to explain this elementary school standoff, Nick?”
“Certainly, Officer Dickerson,” Nick replied affably. “These people in front of us wanted to rip the American Flag down. My Marine buddy, Jim Amos, decided that could not be allowed. The rest of us agreed with his position, and joined him. Our kids actually go to this school. I have no idea who these anti-American, slogan shouting zombies are, except for the leader scrambling to his feet behind you. He told us his name was Dr. Habib Rashidi. The flag offends him.”
Dickerson glanced at the surrounding flag sentinels. “Did Nick explain it correctly?”
A murmuring assent sounded in agreement.