A state of disobedience

Houston, Texas

"Just come on, girl, forget the old man," Minh demanded of Elpi, he and a henchmen dragging her by each arm. The girl twisted and struggled to turn around and go back to stand beside Charlesworth in his hour of need, the hour which was possibly his final one. She struggled, but fruitlessly; for all his age and tiny stature the former Vietcong was still much stronger.

Even as they hustled Elpi through some merchant's doors, Minh looked behind him with a certain amount of satisfaction. Like some mindless colony of killer ants the EPP were wading into the crowd, beating, breaking, arresting in some cases. Photographers stationed by Minh in the overlooking windows would be catching all that, catching on film and tape the actions of the federals against a helpless, unresisting crowd. These images would appear everywhere soon; on television in unoccupied Texas and across the world, on the Internet in the still fully federated states; within the environs of Houston there would soon be no wall without its poster of bleeding women.

Minh gave Elpi a final push then turned around full and, with folded arms, watched the blue-clad horde chew its way closer to Charlesworth. So it was not all just an act, you blue-eyed devil; all those heroes you played.

Charlesworth, himself, kept to his microphone, speaking even until the club descended to shut his eyes and his mouth forever.

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