the picketers that so often surrounded the hospital. Ed assumed their restraining orders must have expired and now they were back, harassing everyone going in or coming out of the hospital, even those who were sick or in need of emergency care.
He noticed that on the far side of the street were a gang of women who supported the government laws dissuading breeding, though they themselves had had children. They called themselves Mothers Against Mothers and they were known for being quite vigilant in their pursuits.
Some of them recognized Ed as he drove up and cheered him on. He winced, knowing that because of that, those opposed now knew he was an MP and would set upon him like a pack of rabid dogs.
And sure as shit, that’s exactly what happened.
“MOTHER PUNCHER!” They screamed and ran in front of his truck, preventing him from pulling into the hospital lot. “ Mother puncher! Bone cruncher! Baby eater! Woman beater! ”
They repeated their chant over and over while Ed laid on his horn and yelled at them to get the hell out of his way. Shaking signs at him, some with blown-up photographs of badly beaten women glued to them, they refused to budge.
Ed revved his engine, inching the truck forward little by little, as much as he dared. Where the fuck was security? Or the police for that matter?
Frustrated, he gave them the finger and revved the engine even louder. “Get out of the goddamn way!” he shouted. “Take it up with the fucking White House, you fucking commies!”
Some of the Mothers Against Mothers had dared to cross the street and began screaming and shouting at the others. Then the poking and shoving began. Then, hair-pulling, kicking, scratching, punching and an all-out brawl.
“Jesus,” Ed muttered. Now he couldn’t even back up; he was completely surrounded by the protesters, though at this point he figured it would be fair to call them rioters.
He thumbed open his cell phone and called the maternity desk to tell them what was going on. The desk nurse said they were already aware of it and had called the police but apparently they were tied up at other hospitals all over the city where other riots had broken out. She seemed perplexed that Ed had not heard about it on the news.
Ed hung up, slightly more nervous than he had previously been. Did these people know the police were already busy elsewhere? And if so, what was to stop them from storming the hospital?
“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He sat chewing his lips for a while, uncertain of how to proceed. For the most part, the rioters were ignoring him now, except for the occasional flying saliva that landed on his windows and obscene taunts.
Should I just drive? he asked himself. He figured they’d get out of the way if they thought he really didn’t give a shit if he ran anyone over. But what if he actually did run someone over? He didn’t think he could live with that, not to mention he might end up serving time over it.
“Fuck,” he repeated.
Scratching his head, he fought with himself over what to do, but then decided he really had no choice. He couldn’t just sit here until they decided to pick up rocks and began hucking them at his truck. They’d probably drag him out and kick him to death eventually.
The prospect of death at the hands of an angry mob didn’t much appeal to him, so he slowly began nudging those in front of him with the bumper of his truck. He figured, if it came down to it, the truck was a bigger weapon than anything that they had. He just needed to go for it.
He continued believing in this theory, crawling along at a snail’s pace, until the police showed up twenty minutes later. Ed breathed a sigh of relief, though it was still another twenty minutes before the cops had cleared a path for him to get to his parking place.
Getting out of his truck, he
He noticed that on the far side of the street were a gang of women who supported the government laws dissuading breeding, though they themselves had had children. They called themselves Mothers Against Mothers and they were known for being quite vigilant in their pursuits.
Some of them recognized Ed as he drove up and cheered him on. He winced, knowing that because of that, those opposed now knew he was an MP and would set upon him like a pack of rabid dogs.
And sure as shit, that’s exactly what happened.
“MOTHER PUNCHER!” They screamed and ran in front of his truck, preventing him from pulling into the hospital lot. “ Mother puncher! Bone cruncher! Baby eater! Woman beater! ”
They repeated their chant over and over while Ed laid on his horn and yelled at them to get the hell out of his way. Shaking signs at him, some with blown-up photographs of badly beaten women glued to them, they refused to budge.
Ed revved his engine, inching the truck forward little by little, as much as he dared. Where the fuck was security? Or the police for that matter?
Frustrated, he gave them the finger and revved the engine even louder. “Get out of the goddamn way!” he shouted. “Take it up with the fucking White House, you fucking commies!”
Some of the Mothers Against Mothers had dared to cross the street and began screaming and shouting at the others. Then the poking and shoving began. Then, hair-pulling, kicking, scratching, punching and an all-out brawl.
“Jesus,” Ed muttered. Now he couldn’t even back up; he was completely surrounded by the protesters, though at this point he figured it would be fair to call them rioters.
He thumbed open his cell phone and called the maternity desk to tell them what was going on. The desk nurse said they were already aware of it and had called the police but apparently they were tied up at other hospitals all over the city where other riots had broken out. She seemed perplexed that Ed had not heard about it on the news.
Ed hung up, slightly more nervous than he had previously been. Did these people know the police were already busy elsewhere? And if so, what was to stop them from storming the hospital?
“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He sat chewing his lips for a while, uncertain of how to proceed. For the most part, the rioters were ignoring him now, except for the occasional flying saliva that landed on his windows and obscene taunts.
Should I just drive? he asked himself. He figured they’d get out of the way if they thought he really didn’t give a shit if he ran anyone over. But what if he actually did run someone over? He didn’t think he could live with that, not to mention he might end up serving time over it.
“Fuck,” he repeated.
Scratching his head, he fought with himself over what to do, but then decided he really had no choice. He couldn’t just sit here until they decided to pick up rocks and began hucking them at his truck. They’d probably drag him out and kick him to death eventually.
The prospect of death at the hands of an angry mob didn’t much appeal to him, so he slowly began nudging those in front of him with the bumper of his truck. He figured, if it came down to it, the truck was a bigger weapon than anything that they had. He just needed to go for it.
He continued believing in this theory, crawling along at a snail’s pace, until the police showed up twenty minutes later. Ed breathed a sigh of relief, though it was still another twenty minutes before the cops had cleared a path for him to get to his parking place.
Getting out of his truck, he
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