Rock Bound

Excerpt

Chapter One

Massacre on the Mall

July, 2051

Washington, DC

The protesters pushed against each other, trying to hold their signs up high above the crowd. The smell of sweat hung in the muggy July air, and Annie struggled to escape from the mass of bodies for a breather. As she shoved her way toward the Lincoln Memorial, the passion of the crowd’s chant rang across the Mall.

“Restore the Constitution! Restore free elections!”

She was instantly reminded of her grandmother’s stories of the Democratic National Convention in 1968, and her anger with the injustice of President Freezeland’s executive order turned to pride. She was proud to be a part of something as meaningful as the antiwar protests in Chicago almost a hundred years ago.

East Oakland, CA

Annie Peterson was a twenty-eight year old administrative assistant in a major accounting firm. She was a pretty girl with unruly blonde hair and dark blue eyes. Her husband, Paul, was a construction foreman who had served in the Army when he was younger. He was of medium height and build, with warm, brown eyes and medium brown hair. His red mustache spread all the way across his face when he smiled, which was often. The Petersons lived in the San Francisco Bay Area, on a hill in East Oakland overlooking the Bay. At night the lights of Oakland, San Francisco and most of the metropolitan Bay Area glittered beneath them. They had been married three years and had a year-old son named Robert when they heard about the protest.

“I swore an oath to protect and defend the Constitution, Annie.” Paul explained. “And even though I’m no longer on active duty, I still take my oath seriously. I’m going to Washington for the protest. I realize it’s the middle of the building season, but I have to go.”

They sat at the dinner table, Bobby’s high chair pulled up close to Annie. Bobby waved a piece of meatloaf in one hand, and squished his mashed potatoes in the other. Annie’s mother, Mandy Swanson, sat more-or-less across from the baby.

“Then I’m going with you,” Annie replied. “Bobby, don’t rub potatoes in your hair!”

“Oh, no, you’re not. There is no Bill of Rights. This is an illegal protest and I’m liable to be arrested.” He speared a chunk of meatloaf and ate it.

“Then I’ll be arrested, too.” Annie handed Bobby his spoon, which he promptly dropped on the floor. She looked at her mother, who didn’t meet her eyes.

Indianapolis, IN

The farther East they drove, the more people they met in the various campgrounds along the way, who were also going to the protest. They met a woman in Indianapolis named Crystal Petrie. She parked next to them and set up her little pup tent.

“I’m from Dubuque,” she told them. “I work at the Mississippi River Museum and Aquarium. My boss didn’t want to let me have the time off for the trip. After all, it’s the height of the tourist season. But I threatened to quit if he didn’t let me go.”

“What if you get arrested?” Annie asked. “Will they hold your job?”

“They’d better, Crystal replied. The Museum preserves the history of the development of the Mississippi basin, and protects the basin’s ecosystem. If Freezeland gets away with taking over the country, we won’t have any wildlife left there. There won’t be any Mississippi River ecosystem. I had to come.”

They stopped in another crowded campground in Maryland the night before the rally. There was almost a carnival atmosphere as people mingled, comparing signs, and singing old protest songs from the mid-Twentieth Century around their fire-grates. The three toasted hot dogs, made s’mores and popped corn over the open fire, as they continued their conversation.

“I’ve been protesting Freezeland’s ecological policies since he announced his candidacy for his first term,” Crystal said. She leaned over their shared campfire, toasting a marshmallow, her graham cracker covered with half of a Hershey bar. Her copper curls shone in the firelight and her green eyes flashed.

“He’s raping our country’s natural resources—living up to his name,” she continued, as the melted marshmallow oozed from the s’more she now held halfway to her mouth. She took a large, gooey bite, and then waved her hands indicating that she couldn’t talk with her mouth full until she was able to swallow the last of the rich concoction, and take a sip of her diet cola. “Pretty soon the United States will be more barren than the Canadian tundra. At least they still have wildlife preserves up there. Freezeland opened all of our preserves to logging and oil developers and to the mining industry during his first term in office. We’re losing thousands of species of plants and animals each year.”

“I’m upset about his policies regarding women,” Annie said. “He thinks we should all be barefoot and pregnant. He’s out to send us back to the Dark Ages.”

Finally, people began to drift back to their tents and campers. Everyone wanted to get to the Mall early so they could “get good spaces.”

Washington, DC

At the protest, Annie, Paul and Crystal spread their blankets together near a band that was playing the same music they’d been singing at their campsite the night before. The Mall was so crowded they could barely breathe. Paul went in search of drinks and was gone over an hour. He got back to the blanket just as Annie returned from her attempt to reach the Lincoln Memorial. The first speaker mounted the podium. “Can you believe they’re charging five dollars a bottle for water and seven for pop?” he asked, as he handed the women their drinks.

“Now I wish we’d brought the cooler from the car,” Annie said.

“I know, and you’ll never let me live it down,” Paul lamented. His warm, brown eyes twinkled at her. “Well, if water’s five bucks, how much will a sandwich be?” Crystal asked.

“I already checked. burgers’re fifteen dollars and fries’re another five,” Paul replied, as he settled on the blanket between the two women.

“It’s a seller’s market. They’ll charge all the traffic will bear,” said a man sitting on the grass next to them. “I’m Jake Johnsrud.”

“This is my husband, Paul, our friend Crystal Petrie, and I’m Annie Peterson. Why don’t you join us on our blanket?” Annie asked.

“Thanks,” he said. Jake was a tall, solidly built man with blond hair and blue eyes that twinkled when he laughed. His lantern jaw and slightly overlarge ears were somewhat comical and prevented him from being a blond Adonis, but along with his good humor, this inexplicably added to his charm.

“Nice to meet you, Jake,” Annie replied. “Scrunch over here, Honey.” She looked at Paul, patting the blanket next to her as she moved toward the middle. Paul moved over on the blanket to make room for the other man.

“Well, the price of pop isn’t our only worry,” Paul said. “There are troops surrounding the Mall. I think we can pretty much count on being arrested”

“Then we’ll all be arrested together, just like my great-grandparents in Chicago,” Annie said, linking her arm through Paul’s, and singing along with the band “If you’ve been to jail for justice—let me shake your hand—“ Folk songs by the group Peter, Paul, and Mary were staples in the Swanson household when she was growing up. Her grandmother had sung her to sleep with “Puff the Magic Dragon” and had sung along in the car, as she listened to the group’s CDs. And now, a century later, the music had been rediscovered. By the end of the day, it would be banned.

They stood up to listen to the speakers, as the band wound down.

Annie followed Crystal’s gaze to the soldiers. She didn’t believe what she saw, and was still trying to process the sight of them raising their weapons. Cyrstal dropped her sign and yelled, “The bastards are firing on us!” she exclaimed. Paul’s head lolled forward, the charred hole still smoking, and Crystal fell to the ground with Annie, who was trying to cradle his head. Annie sobbed, crying “No! No! No!” People were trying to run but there was nowhere to go. Annie felt Jake [Johnsrud, a man they'd invited to share their blanket] fall atop her and Crystal. Oh, my God! He’s dead, too!

“Lie still,” he said. “We’re liable to get trampled.”

Annie felt the weight lift all too soon, as Jake was roughly pulled to his feet by a soldier, who separated him from the women. They handcuffed Annie with a plastic tie-up, and dragged her away from Paul’s body toward an Army truck.

“Nooooooooooo!” she screamed. “Paul!”

She prayed Bobby was okay back home in San Francisco with her mother.

Copyright 2004, Rochelle Weber. All rights reserved. E-piracy hurts writers and is punishable by a $250,000 fine and up to five years in jail. Please don't do business with e-pirates for both our sakes. http://www.fbi.gov/ipr