Civilly Disobedient (Calm Act Genesis Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

apricots, cashews and smoked gouda cheese.
    I passed the time lugging water and ice out to serve at our punchbowl table. And sat whenever I could for a few minutes. Computing is a desk job. I wasn’t used to walking and standing for so many hours at a stretch. My feet hurt.
    The throng milling around the boathouses was rich in wild stories of the violent clash with the National Guard back beyond the museum. But I didn’t see anything worse than heat exhaustion and teargas after-effects. Maybe the Guard took care of the serious injuries.
    After a few hours of mildly arduous milling around at this overcrowded accidental garden party, Weather Vane received word that it was our turn to leave the park. By then, Hogan and the other New Haven organizer had re-united our bus-load of demonstrators at the boathouse we staked out.
    “Who thinks we should stay here and make a stand?” Hogan cried out to the group.
    “I don’t,” I called out clearly, before he could rabble-rouse. “Hogan, the demonstration is over. We caused a nuisance. Now we’re just waiting to exit a park. It’s our turn. Let’s go.”
    “But –” he attempted.
    “She’s right!” another man called out. “We’re already late getting back to New Haven.”
    And so Hogan’s last stand fizzled and died. The most defiance the group was willing to drum up was to carry along some hobbling AARP members, and others who ought to escape the park sooner rather than later. I selected an 8-year-old girl battling cancer and her mom. The girl was exhausted, adorable in a cheerful straw hat over her bald head. I carried her into the line. The child was light as a feather, the mother grateful for the reprieve.
    A couple Guard transports showed up. We were to march between the trucks, escorted on the way out. The troops took one look at the sick and tired we’d collected, and bailed out of their trucks to give up their seats. I handed the girl over to a smiling youth in uniform, who tenderly passed her up into the truck. She giggled when he flirted with her. Her mom climbed up to ride beside her. It was a little thing. But I felt like I’d finally accomplished something, done some good, after trying all day.
    -oOo-
    “Have you ever been arrested before?” A weekend warrior with the National Guard shared a short fold-up banquet table with another soldier. A dozen such tables blocked the road, out-processing demonstrators.
    “No, sir,” I supplied respectfully. “I don’t know why I would be arrested now. I went into the park legally, as part of a sanctioned demonstration. Then the exit was blocked. So I stayed in the park until I was allowed to leave. Is there a problem?”
    He shrugged. “Social security number, please.” I supplied the digits while he input them into his laptop, apparently connected to a police clearinghouse. The public databases corroborated my story – no prior arrest record. “Thank you, Ma’am, you’re free to go.” I wondered sadly if the mere fact that I was checked would show up on my credit record. My employer UNC monitored credit reports on its managers.
    The New Haven bus group was cleared, except for Hogan. With a prior record for civil disobedience, the National Guard screeners handed him over to the police.
    “Go on ahead home without me!” Hogan called to us cheerfully, as he was escorted away by Philadelphia’s finest. “I’ve got train fare!” The police added him into a van of detainees.
    We had to walk another dozen blocks to rendezvous with our bus, along the demonstration route. Unlike the still-mobbed park, these streets had been cleared of protesters, so I could clearly see the wreckage left in their wake. I gazed around in shock. When I’d walked past these little groceries and restaurants a few hours ago, this was a charming downtown, clean and friendly, if a bit edgy about the uninvited guests. The crowd had jostled, but behaved. Now litter was everywhere. Storefronts were smashed in. A corner grocery