Summer mutation side story - The good old boys.

I stood on the bed of my old battered Ford F-150 and surveyed the troops. The floodlights and high beams littered around the lot made it harder, but what I saw couldn't help to bring a smile on.

There had to be a hunnert guys here, all with signs. A few bull horns to get the message across - and a few other things in case things got nasty. The rifles had been stripped from the gun racks, so that was one less reason for the cops to get uppity.

Stupid cops, wouldn't arrest the real menace. Our god given first amendment would put some pressure on them. The people would thank us, they probably didn't even know about the monster in their midst.

The law to inform the public about students who had the power to slaughter had been narrowly beaten last year. It was up again soon, and I had no doubt it would pass.

But until it passed, it was up to guys like me and my friends to pick up the slack. There had to be a bunch of hardworking Americans that knew about the danger, but didn't know how close it was.

I had to give the family credit really, the kid had been active for awhile, and only the neighbors had a complaint in... over some kind of jury-rigged vehicle blocking the street or something. My friend hadn't been able to smuggle the entire complaint out.

Just the report where nothing was done about it.

I kept it simple: "You know why we're here, and what we need to do. Let's be about it, and let's keep it peaceful."

It wouldn't stay peaceful, of course. My guys were in the crowd, and they knew how to start a fight while making the other guys look like they started it.

The cheer started when I stepped off the truck bed and it was clear I wouldn't say anything else. It was just that easy.

I got behind the wheel and waited. I wasn't going to start the engine before we were all lined up, and I was in the place of honor.

A beer sounded very good about now, but I didn't want to get arrested, so the coke in my cup holder would have to do. It was a hot day.

I drank half before the ready honk sounded and we were finally free to get the show on the road. Even with carpooling, there were a good twenty vehicles in our convoy. The twenty best vehicles we all possessed. I kept us under the limit and the drivers were following the orders to keep us spread out - they didn't want the state troopers to have reason to take notice either.

The little hamlet was only a few miles away, and almost all of the land along the way to the town were farms. I knew more than a few of them personally, real salt of the Earth people. We had coffee in the same diner every day.

Well, at least for the first mile. The farmers past that might well be salt of the Earth, but they took their coffee in the Paris diner, and my own coffee friends often had a few bones to pick with them. But no, I had to be calm and objective here. The group wouldn't reimburse anything else, and while the money wasn't what we did it for, it was welcome.

I took the turn off, easy as you please, but had to stop. My stomach dropped into my boots. Why was there a roadblock here? How could there be a roadblock here, less than a mile from the exit? Wasn't that illegal? Our convoy just barely cleared the exit, which was a small blessing.

I could just spot the spike strips in the grass behind the cars. The local police cars, which had no jurisdiction until we hit the town sign. We wouldn't be going around them, and they could deny spiking the road if asked. I guess that was clever.

I rolled down my window as one of the four uniformed cops approached. Wasn't this their entire force? The name above his badge said "Myles", and he was tall. Taller than I was, and with more muscle on him besides. His rolled up sleeves barely fit over guns that a pro wrestler would be proud of. Clayton Myles was the sheriff, come to think of it.

"What seems to be the problem, officer?"

"License and registration, please?"

Oh, he was really going to do this, this way? "Sure."

I grabbed the paperwork and handed it over; I'd had it ready just in case. The other three cops had taken up position behind their cars... and I could see the shotguns held in loose grips.

"So, what seems to be the problem, officer?" I asked again.

He looked up from my license and gave me a gimlet eye. "Got word of a humanity first protest headed our way."

Who had tipped them off?

"Funny thing about that," the sheriff continued. "To protest in Paris, one needs to contact our city hall in advance and fill out form D-18, otherwise known as an event form, at least two weeks in advance. Only one of those forms have been filled out in the last month, and it wasn't by humanity first.

He cast a glance in the truck bed, no doubt looking for guns and only seeing the signs I made in there.

"Who was it filled out by, if I may ask?"

"The Campbell family."

What the... the very family we were here to protest, unless there was another. Campbell was a pretty common name after all.

"Well, if that's an event, can we go to it?" I had to keep the smile off my face, but damn I was clever.

"It's by invitation only," the sheriff said, cool as could be. "and you don't have invitations."

He handed my registration and license back. "I'm going to need you all to turn around and go back to where you came from."

How dare he!?! "We have the right to peacefully assemble in any public place we please."

"Sure... just so long as you fill out form D-18 two weeks in advance, as required by local law," the man grinned wide. "It allows us to allocate the resources to protect you should something happen. State police tend to require notice to help local police, and in the event of a protest in today's day and age... well I'd want the backup. It's for your own safety, you understand?"

I understood. I could launch a legal challenge, but that wouldn't get us in the town today, and we might even lose. It was a slick argument.

"So, you've got room, and you don't need to worry about cross traffic. I'm going to have to ask you all to turn around and go back home. It's a nice day, go enjoy it - and come back on Monday bright and early to file that paperwork."

As if, I was a working man, and even if I wasn't they weren't going to rubber stamp any form I made. Someone knew who I was, someone had tipped the cops off, and it was clear they did not share the views of the rest of us.

I pasted my best smile on my face and hung my arm out the door and made circles with it. "Sure officer. See you on Monday."

I had to back up just a bit before turning, but I got around. There was more than one way to skin a cat.

Once I was sure we weren't being followed I pulled off onto the first of the rural routes. The convoy followed of course. From here, I could us the binocs in my glove compartment to see the off ramp - as long as I stood on my truck. It wasn't like I cared about getting boot prints on it.

The cops were still there... but that was fine. It just meant this wouldn't be a cakewalk.

"Billy-Joe."

I looked to find my right hand man and best friend had approached, when no one else had. They were busy milling around and whispering among themselves.

"Harry. The cops are still there."

"Right."

"Which means they aren't anywhere else."

The light dawned behind Harry's eyes. "Right... so then we can go around, take the back way. They can't have cops everywhere."

"Right. So we wait a bit, make sure they are staying put, then you lead us along the route. You know it a bit better than I do."

I waited, letting the others talk. Then when I was sure they were staying, I waited another five minutes before jumping down.

"Alright, back in the cars! Harry's going to lead us down another route. We aren't done yet!"

It took awhile for the others to get situated and going, and Harry almost didn't wait, taking off down the road I pulled off with confidence. I knew this route crossed rural 300, but rural North 300 would probably be flooded now; the road was unpaved trash.

Harry drove past North 300 without so much as a glance. Well, that was why he was leading now. He drove on, to where the road intersected another unpaved road. Rural North 500. Rural North 500 however, had gravel and an old stone bridge across the creek that floods late summer. All of which should be good enough, if not for the fact that as far as I knew North 500 had no way into Paris. Unless of course we took the road all the way across and found the town from the other side.

That was Harry's plan was, it seemed. Right up until he skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust.

Once the cloud thinned I could see why Harry stopped. In the distance, right at the outlet for 500, was a single car. A single car that I could tell was black and white.

My binoculars came in handy again; it was a cop car, and there were two uniformed deputies on the other side of it. They were alert, and I was fairly sure they weren't any of the cops at the off ramp. As I watched, one of them pulled out a radio mic.

"Got another idea, Harry?"

"Yep. we ain't licked yet. But this is kinda crazy; how many cops does Paris have, anyway?"

"Too many it seems. More than we do with almost twice their population." Sure Paris was rich... but there was rich, then there was wasteful. Something was off, here. Something beyond the Parisians keeping to themselves more than most. Not that we wanted them at the festival anyway, but it was odd most of them never came.

They had festivals of their own, but they didn't advertise them much. I'd thought something was off about it for years, but it was just the way it'd always been to the old timers.

I had to be patient. "Alright, everyone turn around, we're headed back the other way."

I turned back to Harry. "We are headed back the other way, aren't we?"

Harry grinned, showing off how few teeth he had. "Yep, but not all the way. I took North 500 for a reason."

I let Harry take the lead again, racking my brains. What could he be talking about? The closest intersection was East 350, but that was a dead end. So was East 400. East 500 was just on the other end of the cops. East 300 suffered from a lack of pavement and often floods.

Harry drove off past the shallow ditch and into the flat grass on the side of the road, and I followed. We all just pulled a slow loop.

Harry pulled off onto East 350, which meant their had to be something here. Minutes later, just before he hit the end of the road, he pulled off... into a driveway. The name on the mailbox had half fallen off, but the 'ythe' of Smythe was still visible. Smythe was Harry's last name, so the place had to belong to relatives of his.

The long winding drive was in better shape than the road itself, despite being dirt. It was also overgrown a bit, which meant that no one was here, or had been here for some time.

Harry reached the house and kept going, out past the other side. The road kept going too, stretching out under his battered but beloved car without a break. It led us out, and to the other side of East 300, where the road again opened up under us with farms to either side.

I'd have never known the route was here. The chances were, no one else knew it was here either, and the road was just passable enough for us all to get through. I rolled down the window again; it was best to enjoy the breeze and sounds of nature while I could. In almost no time at all even taking it easy, we were on the outskirts of Paris.

But it seemed as if we'd been anticipated once again. This time, there was a semi parked where the street opened up onto pavement. Whoever had parked it here had left just enough room for us to turn around in the small cul-de-sac, but otherwise this was as far as our vehicles could go.

Unless we got a little tricky. I pulled forward and turned, but then climbed out. If they thought a little hike would stop me, they had another think coming. The semi was locked, and I could see an alarm set right on the seat of it, mocking me. That was fine.

I waited until half of us were turned around, and the other half were set to do so. Ed handled it; and he was good at this sort of stuff. He worked for roads and sanitation, so it was his job.

There, that house. I could see the blinds twitch. There was a car in the driveway of the house too. The two story brick house with white trim looked like a place that cost more than two of mine.

"We have a choice before us, ladies and gents. We can go back around and look for another route. Or we can unload here and march to our destination, Paris city hall! Who is with me!?!?"

I didn't really need to ask of course; they were all with me. Every one a true believer, and in it for the long haul. That and the money of course.

As expected, they cheered. Some of them even raised their signs, which was a good reminder.

"Grab your signs and let's go!"

I set off, humming some tune or other, and everyone else fell in. Harry fell in beside me, of course. "You sure this is a good idea?"

"We got people filming, so of course it is. The cops here stop us, well, we will go back - and then the story will be all about how five cops violated the civil rights of several peaceful champions of humanity."

The light dawned. "That's... almost as good as if we don't get interrupted."

"No, it's better," I corrected. "at least for the movement. If the police let us protest, then thats fine. But if they turn us away, then we not only know this town is poison, but everyone else will too."

"Win-win!" Harry ground out, chuckling.

"All about the winning - and us little guys win too, just by being along for the ride." Maybe one day I could afford a brick house with white trim of my own, rather than my wooden shack.

The first block, there was no one around. The second block was clear too. On a day like today that was a bit unusual. Maybe not for having townspeople at another event though; a small blessing perhaps.

Some cars passed us once we hit their main street. They kept going; soon enough we were at the courthouse. There were no cars in the lot. Which meant there were no police cars in the lot.

No one around - maybe this wasn't the right place to have our fun. Where would the party be? At the park, maybe? Outside the school maybe? The school would be a fitting place - but we really needed some kind of resistance here, otherwise our hidden camera guy would have nothing to show.

"Rusty. Cleve."

The two I''d singled out marched up. They didn't quite salute, but I could tell they wanted to. They stayed silent too, which made me happy. The boss had trained them well.

"Both of you leave your signs here. Rusty, I want you to go to the park... it's that way and take a left two blocks down. Cleve, I want you to head to the school. Its all the way down at the end. See if there are any people there, then come back to us."

"Yes sir!"

"Got it."

Not quite the response I was looking for. More training was always needed.

Both my true soldiers went off, going the same direction yet on opposite sidewalks, in order to appear less suspicious. That didn't really work until their pace split them up.

"Problem?" Harry asked.

I hated explaining things. "The cops might not know we're here."

Harry shrugged. "They are all out watching the roads. They will get called eventually."

"I want to know where the family is - where the kid is. Something is going on, and I'm curious."

The kid worried me; how could she not? What was she doing now? What sort of abomination against good science had she built?

The boss was right; her kind were dangerous. It was only a matter of time before they built bombs or other tools of war. Tools that humanity was hard-pressed to counter.

Meanwhile I raised my sign, and we began to picket. The chant was "Not without notice! Not in our schools!" I wasn't very proud of it, but it got the message across. They can't all be deep poetry.

We were loud enough with the bullhorns. It only took ten minutes for us to hear the sirens. That was a pretty good response time.

The two cars that had been at the exit pulled up in a hurry, parking haphazardly. The sheriff almost jumped out of the car, his deputies right behind him. They all had hands firmly on their pistols.

"I thought I told you that you wouldn't be demonstrating today." The Sheriff said calmly as the veins in his neck bulged. There was anger, but no fear in the man at all; he waded right into us until he stood in front of me.

"You might have said words to that effect," I admitted calmly. "However this is still a free country, and the first amendment guarantees it'll stay that way."

"No, the second amendment guarantees the freedom of the country, the first amendment only guarantees it can be vocal. Here is how this is going to work. I am going to write you a citation. You are going to take it, find your cars, and leave. If you do anything but that, you will be arrested and held on charges of disturbing the peace and unlawful assembly. Those charges would include jail time that will certainly violate the probation of some of your friends. Do you understand?"

I held out my hands. "Sure I get it. You're more worried about my freedom of speech than the safety of your kids."

The Sheriff's eyes narrowed, then shifted. He was looking for the camera, and not seeing it. With a sigh, he pulled out his ticket book and wrote one out.

Seven hundred and fifty dollars and in my name alone - holy shit that had to be the max. He was really pissed at me.

I took the ticket carefully, folded it, and put it in my back pocket. This wasn't ideal, but it was enough, and we could make it better.

"Our cars are over by the Smythe place, in that cul-de-sac."

"Alright, get going. We'll just make sure you don't get lost." The Sheriff replied.

I signaled our boys and we set off... still chanting at the top of our lungs. They really couldn't arrest us all, at least not without backup from state, and the Sheriff and I both knew he wasn't getting that. At least not anytime soon.

We really should have marched like this on the way in. Oh well.

There were a few people now, in front of their houses or along the streets. Many of those people were visibly armed. My grandma, what a big shotgun you have. A sawed off with a barrel length illegal in this state. I looked to the Sheriff only to find him ignoring it, along with the other guns not quite pointed our way.

Something was off in this town.

Some few of the people - the ones with only a little gray in their hair and straight backs - joined the march, taking up flanking positions on either side without being in range of easy grabbing. There were no cars coming down the road on this trip, when there had been before.

Did everyone in town know we were here? Probably; but why were they acting on it, and why like this? The Sheriff didn't look worried at all, even when the people around us began to outnumber his men. It was as if he already knew which way they would swing, should this come to violence.

He shouldn't know that, unless everyone in town shared the same opinion. No town in America did that, so why was he just watching us?

We reached the cul-de-sac... and the semi truck was moved, parked off to the side. A big burly man that was taller than I was by a head and must have had a good fifty pounds on me, a good portion of it beard, was standing in front of it with his arms crossed. He could only be the owner.

He stared us down as if looking at bugs.

There were others around too, looking a bit more normal, if normal was reedy white collar looking types. Somehow they didnt look like normal office workers - their gazes were too hard, too sharp. I'd seen that look before in experienced fighters sizing you up before you got in the ring.

My own gaze told me I had no chance, not in a straight up fight, guns aside. All together we might be able to do something, but today wasn't about violence.

We would have to be careful though, later on. I'd have to pass a few things up the chain.

"Alright. Everyone go to your cars, but do not get in them. You are all illegally parked, and will be getting tickets to take home with you. You can contest them of course, or pay the fine. If you choose to contest them, you call the number on the ticket and a court date will come in the mail. If you have any questions you can ask when we get to you."

Judging from the looks, there were going to be a few questions, but overall the boys were taking it well. They knew even if the charges stuck they wouldn't have a problem paying.

The Sheriff filled mine out, and passed it over. "Sign on the dotted line there."

Seventy-five bucks was pretty normal... I signed and he ripped my copy out of his book, then went along. His deputies had picked spots in the line to work from, and in less time than I'd hoped, they'd gotten to us all. The good news was Rusty and Cleve had both come here in other people's rides, so they hadn't been scooped up just yet.

"Alright, now all of you get back in your cars. We'll escort you out of town, and I don't want to see you back without permission by the city council to demonstrate. Do you all understand? I see you back here with signs spouting shit, and no form D-18, you're all going to county for six months."

"We got it Sheriff, thanks. Lead on, we'll be right behind you."

Their blues rolled up then... with regular people driving. The Sheriff had let civilians drive his car? Had just left the keys in, and these people were good for it? Somethin was off about this town.
The Sheriff got in his wheels, the deputies in theirs, and the regular people stepped off. He led us out, and as I promised I was right behind him. We made quite the sight, I was sure. The truck moved behind us, this time blocking the driveway we'd used to enter town.

There, what was that? Another convoy, just leaving, in the opposite direction. They turned off ahead of us, but all that did was give me a good view of the battered truck hauling a tarp covered trailer, with kids in the back.

That had to be the Campbells.

My steering wheel creaked, reminding me I needed to loosen up. It wouldn't do to jump the gun. Slow and steady won the race. I fixed my smile and kept the course, waiting until we were out of that town and well on our way home before venting a bit where there was no one to hear.

The chapter house was a little hole in the wall, the final partition of a strip mall. It used to be a hair salon, and still had the sinks in the back where the hair washing was done before the big dryer bowls were put on. I liked to imagine the old ladies coming here on Sunday after church and gossiping about stupid shit; it made the problems we were facing today look like nothing at all. Simpler times, and all that.

From the outside, there was only one concession given; the H1 logo on the reinforced plate window. The inside was a different story; aside from the counter with all the brochures, our pictures were everywhere. We had a lot to be proud of, after all; we were at the forefront of human rights.

But for now the best thing about the place was the three kegs in the corner, sweating off their chill and freshly delivered by the boss while we were gone. I grabbed the plastic cups we had for this very purpose and drew the first one, then picked one of the less rickety chairs to sit in.

Franky came up, his hand out. "A success, or sorts. Congratulations."

We shook and I palmed the thumb drive he'd had, dropping it in my pocket while no one was looking.

Well Franky had the camera, so he got the bad job. "Do me a favor? Stay sober so you can pick up our two missing if they call?"

Franky sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Alright, but you'll owe me some of this later," he said, his arm waving to cover the beer and pretzels.

"Sure thing. Your pick of brand, too." It was the least I could do.

Well, now I had to get up again. Franky fucked off to sit by our landline, which would be the number either of our friends would call if they got caught or needed a ride, and took the route to my tiny office.

The envelopes were in the drawer, next to the spare thumb drives. I grabbed two of the drives and stuck them in the laptop I'd been given, then slotted the one in my pocket. I barely understood this crap, but a mistake here would ruin everything, and leaving it to someone more tech savvy didn't sit right with me.

I wanted to fire the shot that sank that kid myself.

I dragged the files where they needed to go and started the copies. Then I addressed the envelopes. Finally, I made a copy for the computer itself and then highlighted the drives before hitting the eject button. The tech guys had been most clear on that one, that it was a common mistake.

Then I had to copy the laptop's copy again, and send it to a site which was all numbers, and that I had to type in laboriously by hand, and then delete from the browser history.

I looked up to find my beer empty and almost an hour gone. Going back out, I saw that the first keg was long gone, and the second was well on its way, so I got in line.

Tomorrow we'd see that kid on the five-o-clock news, even if we were the ones on camera.