Infringement (20 page)

“It’s okay, I have press credentials. Here, I’ll…”

“I don’t care if you’ve got a key to the city. I said back off!” The trooper raised his rifle and Louis looked down to find a red laser point bouncing around his chest.

“Okay, okay,” he replied. “Don’t get excited. I’ll stop here, but I’m a reporter, and I need to get down to the federal courthouse to cover the riots.”

“Nobody gets in.”

“Not even press?”

“Are you deaf? I said nobody gets in. This is a secure perimeter and only authorized personnel are allowed past this point.”

“Aren’t press authorized?”

“Listen, I already said I don’t care who you are. You’re not getting past this barricade, and if you keep bugging me, I’m going to shoot you in the chest like the rioter you are. So, back off!”

“But, I’m not a rioter, I’m a reporter,” Louis replied.

“Volquez,” the trooper said to one of his two partners, “What is this guy?”

“Looks like a rioter to me,” Volquez responded flatly while raising his weapon in Louis’ direction.

“That’s what I thought,” the trooper stated, his rifle’s red laser mark still dancing on Louis’ chest.

Louis stood frozen, unsure what to do, not wanting to make the wrong move.

“See, idiot, this is the part where you run,” the trooper yelled, then quickly raised his weapon and fired one round into the air above Louis’ head. Louis flinched at the sound, then turned and sprinted as fast as he could back in the direction he’d come, hearing the three Homeland troopers’ laughter echoing through the street behind him.

_______________________

Evan parked his car in one of the packed long term parking lots at the airport, and took out the handful of cash, about $320.00, he had taken from the petty cash drawer at his office. He didn’t want to use his credit card or debit card for anything, as any such purchases would be easily traced by anyone who might be looking for him.

The main terminal of the airport was open all night and Evan figured he could blend in with the remaining holiday traffic, try to get a few hours’ sleep without looking too conspicuous, then head up to the lake house around dawn. He stepped out into the frosty cold, locked the car and pulled the collar of his wool overcoat tightly around him.

The wind had picked up considerably, making the clear night air bitingly cold. He plunged his hands deep into his pockets and trudged past the various parked cars, walking slowly against the gusting wind toward the airport terminal.

Evan looked up to see a pair of headlights coming slowly down the parking lot aisle, seemingly looking for a parking space. The icy wind raged and sliced through him, sending chills up and down the length of his body. He looked down into the collar of his overcoat again, in an effort to duck the cold.

The headlights crept closer and closer, causing Evan to move from the center of the aisle to one side, in order to allow the car to pass. He looked up again briefly and noticed an open parking space to his left a few feet ahead, and took one hand out of the warmth of his coat pocket to motion to the car, which was almost upon him. Evan pointed quickly to the open parking space. The driver noticed and waved back, then slowly pulled past the quickly freezing Evan.

Not giving the car any further thought, but only able to focus on the bitter cold around him, Evan continued ahead. A few seconds later, he heard faint footsteps behind him, and turned around, to be met with the solid thrust of a wooden police baton into his gut. The blow knocked the air out of Evan and dropped him instantly onto the frozen asphalt, where he struggled to breathe. Another hard painful blow came down on his shoulder, then another on his arm. Pain shot throughout his body, as a third blow from the baton landed squarely on his back. He looked up just for a second to see the blinding headlights of a car in front of him, felt the baton land for a final time on the back of his skull, and everything went black.

_______________________

Out of breath, Louis Martino finally stopped running a few blocks from the barricade and threw himself down onto the curb to catch his breath. “Holy crap,” he said to himself, gasping. “Damn, I’m out of shape.”

Sweat poured out of him uncontrollably, like his heart rate, and he finally just laid flat on his back on the sidewalk. Louis tried to focus on the point where the building towering above him met the faint twinkling sky. After a few minutes on his back, he was able to regain some control over his breathing and stopped panting. His pulse subsided somewhat and his hands stopped shaking.

With a bit of effort, Louis pulled himself up off the sidewalk and took a look around. Suddenly, just as all seemed calm, he heard the unmistakable sound of gun fire, followed by shouts. Both sounded very close, too close. The shouts moved toward him quickly, frantically, until their source, three young men and a young woman, finally came around the corner of the building he was standing in front of.

“Hurry, c’mon,” a man yelled. “They’re right behind us.”

Another called out, “Did they get anyone?”

“I don’t think so,” the girl said. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Louis stood staring at the group as they ran toward him. The girl looked up, caught sight of him, and froze in her tracks.

“It’s okay,” Louis said quickly. “I’m only a reporter.”

A second later, two figures came running around the corner behind the group. “Shit, run,” one of the young men screamed.

“Rat-tat, rat-tat” rang out and Louis watched as one of the three young men fell face first to the ground, his head smashing against the concrete sidewalk. The others scattered and kept running and Louis, afraid he wouldn’t have time to explain his press status to the shooters, dashed after the girl. Three more shots darted through the air, followed by a man’s voice screaming, “I’m hit. I’m hit.”

Louis and the girl sprinted toward the end of the block and around the corner of the building. They kept running as fast as they could away from the gunfire, neither slowing to look behind them. They ran to the end of the next block, and turned another corner. Louis realized that they had to get off the street and tried to take in his surroundings to see if there was an open building or somewhere they could hide.

He spotted a parking garage and called to the girl, “Hey, in there.”

She slowed her pace, gasping for breath, and looked toward the parking garage.

“We can hide in there,” Louis said, panting. “Get off the street.”

“Okay,” she replied.

The two headed quickly into the parking garage and made their way up the staircase. Louis’ quads and lungs burned in a way he’d never thought possible. He felt like he was going to vomit and wanted to stop, but the girl kept running up the stairs. Not wanting to lose her, Louis tried his best to keep up, until they finally reached the open air top level of the garage.

The girl stopped running and ducked down in a dark shadowed spot next to one of the walls. Louis fell down onto the ground next to her, again unable to catch his breath and feeling his heart practically beat out of his body. They were both quiet for a few minutes, listening for any sound of footsteps.

After getting his breath back, Louis asked, “What are you, a marathon runner or something?”

The girl smiled slightly and, despite the circumstances, Louis was unable to stop himself from noticing how beautiful she was. “I wish,” she replied.

“My name’s Louis Martino.”

“Jessica Ehlers.”

“Nice to meet you, Jessica.”

“Do you think we’re safe here?”

“I think so. I don’t think anyone saw us run in here. Besides, I think there were only two of them.”

“Back there, you said you were a reporter?”

“Yeah, I’m co-editor for The Free Voice. It’s an online indie news publication.”

The sound of more gun shots echoed through the streets below them. Jessica froze, then looked toward the staircase.

“I don’t think those were nearby,” Louis said. “They sounded like they were more from a distance.”

“I think two of the guys I was with got shot.”

“I think so too. Were they friends?”

“Not really. They knew someone in the group I went to the protests with tonight. We were hanging together down there until the Homeland riot police started moving in. I didn’t even know their names. Everyone just scrambled when they started shooting tear gas canisters off and then they started shooting people.”

“What were the protestors doing? Was it provoked?”

“No, they demanded that everyone break up and leave. When nobody did, the riot cops began with the tear gas, then shots started going off. I don’t know if it was protestors or cops at first, but then the police started shooting into the crowd and everyone scattered. I was down there with my brother. I lost him in the crowd when the shooting started.”

“How many protestors were there?”

“I don’t know. At least three or four thousand. Maybe more,” Jessica said as she stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to try and find my brother.”

“You can’t go back out there now, it’s not safe.”

“I’m not headed back to the federal building. Aiden, that’s my brother, and I came up with a meeting place in case we got separated. It’s only a couple blocks from here. I’ve got to get over there so he doesn’t think something happened to me and goes back to look for me.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine. It’s better on my own. If I run into any police, I can just say that I’m just getting off work down here or something.”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jessica replied. She put out her hand to shake Louis’ hand.

“It was nice meeting you.”

“You too,” she said, and took off toward the stairwell.

“Stay safe,” he called after her.

Jessica turned around and replied, “You do the same,” then headed briskly down the stairs.

_______________________

Michelle pulled off the county road and onto a gravel road leading up to the lake house. The kids were asleep in the backseat and Evan’s mom had begun to doze off in the passenger seat. Michelle yawned as she tried to keep her own eyes open and focused on the road in front of her.

The SUV jostled over the bumpy gravel road, further into the dark forest, until it finally pulled into a clearing and onto a small circular gravel driveway. Michelle stopped the car in front of the house, turned off the ignition, and walked briskly through the darkness to open the front door. A second later, the lights inside the house flipped on.

_______________________

The lights from the lake house popped in and out of Kevin Cameron’s view through the trees. He walked slowly in the dark along the gravel road, until he was able to see the Denali parked outside the illuminated lake house and Michelle’s silhouetted figure unloading the various supplies she’d packed.

“Not a bad little hideout,” he said to himself. A moment or two later, he turned and began the walk back up the road to his parked car. As he walked along the dark road, Kevin’s phone vibrated on his belt.

“Cameron,” he answered.

“We’ve got Parker’s brother,” Bleeker said. Where are you?”

“There was nothing going at the house, so I headed out. I think the wife and kids must have already left. No movement. Where’d you take Parker’s brother?”

“We’re at Zulu 12 Charlie.”

“Do you need me there tonight?”

“No, we’ve got it under control. Find out what you can about the rest of the family. I want them all. The president is going to declare martial law at some point tomorrow. All field offices have been instructed to gear up for the apprehension and detainment of regional threats.”

“Got it. I’ll do what I can to track down the wife and kids and touch base again in the morning.”

“Meet us here at 06 hundred.”

“Will do.”

Estimating it would take about ten minutes on foot to get back to the intersection of North Lamar and Ross to meet his taxi, Louis left his hiding spot at the top of the parking garage at 1:15 a.m. Louis was operating almost solely on adrenaline as he made his way down the stairs and back out onto the street. Once again on the street, he pulled out his iPhone and tapped on the “Maps” app. Within a few seconds, a little blue dot appeared where he stood, just about four blocks from where he was supposed to meet the cab.

The streets were eerily still as he made his way up to Ross. The pops of tear gas canisters and gunfire could be heard in the distance, in the direction of the federal building, but Louis didn’t encounter anyone until he turned onto Ross, where he practically walked right into the blasting headlights of a pair of parked Homeland cruisers.

“Hands above your head,” a voice called out from behind the blinding lights. Louis slowly placed his hands on top of his head and stood still.

“I’m press,” he called back.

“Just stand still, hands on your head. I’ll come to you.”

A military looking figure, weapon raised, emerged from behind one of the cruisers and into the glare of the headlights. Louis couldn’t make out any features until the trooper was within five or six feet of him. “Do you have credentials?”

“I do. Can I show them to you?”

“Do it slowly. I’d prefer not to shoot you.”

“That makes two of us. I’ve got them on a lanyard, tucked into my shirt. I’m just going to take my left hand and raise them out.”

“Slowly,” the trooper advised again.

Louis slowly pulled on the lanyard and took it off altogether so the trooper could examine his press card. “Here’s my card. I’m Louis Martino, with The Free Voice.”

“Hold the card up in the light facing me.”

“Here you go.”

The trooper, with his weapon still raised, carefully examined the name and photo on Louis’ press card, then looked up at Louis to compare the photo with the face. “It’s okay,” he yelled out, lowering his rifle, “He’s just a reporter.”

“Can I take my hands off my head now?”

“Yeah, you’re good. Where are you headed? You know the perimeter surrounding the federal building is a restricted area, right? Off limits even to press.”

Louis replied, “I’m just headed to meet my taxi at Lamar and Ross, a couple blocks up I think.”