It was hard for Clark to fault the AG's reasoning, though. Four million people inhabited the state of Colorado. Three million of them lived in or around Denver. Or at least they had.
'I want my life back, but you can't' you weren't here in' in time'' a plaintive, high sound came out of Wylie's throat. He didn't have a lot left. 'You can't' stop this. You can't stop this,' he said. His face had gone white. The revolver drifted downward and then fell from his hand to clatter on the street. In an instant Squad Three pushed in, knocking Clark backward, away from the assailant. One of them took the baby from him'it wouldn't stop screaming. Two men grabbed at Wylie's shirt and arms and neck, pulled his arms behind his back, restrained him. It was over in seconds. Clark swallowed though there was nothing in his mouth.
'Fucking spaz,' a troop said, and filled his mouth to spit on Wylie. Sergeant Horrocks stepped up into the soldier's face and stared him down until he swallowed visibly.
Clark adjusted his boonie hat and turned away. 'Sergeant, please find a place for this civilian in one of the vehicles,' he ordered over the sound of the baby's cries. 'And find' find someone to take this. This infant.' He couldn't hear himself think. Alone, he strode away from the vehicles to stand on the shoulder of the road. He stared up over the tops of the quaint Victorian mountain town buildings, at the snow-covered peaks, until his stomach muscles stopped flip-flopping beneath his uniform shirt. It had been a long time since someone pointed a gun at him. He had served in two major wars and nearly a half dozen small conflicts and he'd never gotten used to the feeling. He had believed that he would get through the current crisis without it ever happening.
The convoy got moving again before Clark was ready to go. He watched the HEMTT go by, two of the Strykers. Then the line of minivans and panel trucks and school buses'anything they could find, anything civilian that could hold a few people. The last of the Strykers pulled rear security. Clark swung up onto its back compartment and sat down on the turret, feeling better with the wind in his face.
The Civilian had ordered him to get to a hardened location and wait. Clark had chosen Florence'the best fortified site he knew'and he would get there eventually. But not before he'd rescued every civilian he found between Denver and the supermax prison.
Monster Nation
Chapter Four
US slouches toward Martial Law, Conspiracy Nuts Everywhere Cream their Jeans
The Att-Gen asking for extra powers, well, what else is new. But with the Army pretty much owning half of the Western US already and security inside the Beltway making every trip to Starbucks into a fun-filled lightning round of 'name that gun' this is starting to look like the real deal. Brr.
[blog entry, wonkette.com, 4/9/05]
Nilla perched on the edge of a hand-made wicker chair, her hands on the table. The bald man twisted the can opener a final time and put a tin of potted meat down between them. It looked like cat food.
'I'm, uh, I'm Jason Singletary.' He showed her an expanse of brown and ugly teeth. She supposed it was a smile or something.
'Nilla,' she said.
'I know.' He stepped back from the table and moved his hands in front of him, touching his fingers together as if he was counting. 'I know a lot of things about you. I know what your purpose is, I think. There's a lot to discuss.'
Nilla frowned at him. This was nonsense. How could he know her name? She'd never seen him before in her death. If he'd known her during her life he still wouldn't know the name she'd chosen for herself. He was lying.