Side Roads and Dandelions

by W.H. Harrod

  ~~ Chapter Thirty-Two

  The Dandelions slept in the next morning. No one seemed interested in getting the day going. Only a single event required their collective attention this day, but no leader stepped forward to get the show on the road, that is until Allison, tired of waiting for any noise to announce the stirrings of her partners, rousted herself from her bed. To her surprise upon emerging from her room, she discovered Bobby sitting on the couch recording his thoughts into a small notebook. Hope it’s not his last will and testament.

  “Got time to go with me to get some rolls for breakfast?” Bobby looked up to see Allison’s smiling face coming in his direction.

  “Sure,” he answered as he closed his notebook placing it in his fatigue jacket pocket.

  “I saw a bakery downtown that looked interesting. Would that work for you, or do you need something more substantial?” Allison sat on the couch pulling on her sandals as she waited for Bobby’s response.

  “Sounds fine to me. I’ve not exactly gone wanting for grub on this trip. A few more of Lia’s meals, and I’ll have another problem to deal with.”

  “Good, I’m ready. Why don’t you drive so I can make a list while we’re on the way?” Allison tossed him the keys as she headed for the door.

  When they returned a half hour later, the other two members of the group were up and moving around. Both looked less than excited about the coming day’s prospects. Sam had planned to reheat a cold piece of pizza before Allison showed him the carton filled with delicious pastries and rolls. The booty of Allison’s morning venture was soon spread out upon the table to be enjoyed with hot coffee and light conversation. Although they had plenty of time to prepare for the trip to the city, Allison wanted to make sure they discussed everything that offered the slightest cause for concern.

  “Has everyone had enough to eat so we can talk over some things before the morning gets away from us?” Allison looked to each individual to receive a nod of approval. “Good. First off I need to let you know I want to start for home tomorrow. Actually, I want to start home this morning but that wouldn’t be the grown up thing to do. What I’ve accomplished so far by coming here is only half of the reason I decided to make the trip. Today, I need to complete the other part of my mission, and then I can go home with a clearer conscience, aware that the real work has only begun. Any comments?”

  Bobby spoke up first as Sam and Ernest considered the new information.

  “Fine with me. When you guys go, I go. I have to tell you, although I don’t look forward to that long drive back across that desert, it’s been worth every bit of the hurt it put on my rear end. Come to think of it, I’ll probably get off in Oklahoma City and catch that plane to Dallas. I got up early this morning and went out and made a call. A special person there said she’s waited a long time for the real Bobby to come and bring her home. Thanks to you guys, I can finally do that.”

  The table erupted in applause and congratulations for Bobby’s good news. Allison almost knocked Bobby’s chair over as she hurried around the table to give him a long hug. This was wonderful news. Allison needed some good news this morning to partially allay her fears of the coming day.

  Sitting down in her chair again, a thought occurred to her. “Bobby, why don’t you fly directly to Dallas from here, I’m sure we will be out of danger once we leave the bay area. You could be in Dallas two days earlier if you did.”

  Bobby thought about her proposition before he answered. “Nope, I can wait. If the rainbow wagon can make the trip, I can too.”

  She knew better than to try to change his mind once he’d made his decision. So without further ado, Allison turned to the other two men. “Anyone else?” she asked.

  Ernest spoke up next. “I don’t relish the thought of my big behind hurting that much again either, but it looks like I’m set to go. I’ll be ready.”

  That left Sam to add his two cents worth to her plan. “Well, guys I’ve thought about little else the last several days, and to tell the truth, I don’t want to leave. I feel alive here. There are things to get involved in here that are important to the whole country. There’s nothing for me back there. There never was. I’m not going to jump ship though, we came out here together in the bus and that’s how we’ll go back, together.”

  Wow! thought Allison. All I asked was were they ready to go home. She, too, wanted to get home as soon as possible, but she had to drive the VW bus. Suddenly, another idea came to her. It made much more sense, plus she suddenly felt it was the right thing to do.

  “Since you ingrates are so not looking forward to riding across country with me again in the bus, I have an idea. It makes perfectly good sense to me, so I hope you will agree. Sam, the bus stays here with you. Lia mentioned several times how much she loved it, and really, it deserves more than being stuck for another thirty years in an old barn. It’s a peace wagon, and it deserves to stay in the struggle with you. It belongs here, just like you belong here. Will you accept it with my love, thanks, and admiration for what you’ve already done and what you are going to do?”

  Sam looked surprised. He obviously realized how much the bus meant to Allison. “Are you sure? You’ve had it forever. What if I paid you something for it?”

  “Sam, if we talk about what it’s worth in money to me, even you don’t have that much. It’s a gift to you from us. You now will be responsible for part of our legacy, and we know you will treat it accordingly. So on to the next subject -- alternate transportation. I suggest we make flight reservations for tomorrow -- me to St. Louis, Bobby to Dallas, and Ernest to Memphis. Unless there’s something else, I suggest we make those reservations now. That will leave plenty of time to get ready for this afternoon. I look forward to this day being over.”

  It didn’t take long to arrange flights for the next day to their respective destinations. Sam insisted on everyone going first class and letting him pay for everything. He was adamant when they tried to refuse his generosity, saying he was going to use his accumulated wealth for the benefit of his friends and the community in the future, starting with them. Besides, trying to put Ernest into a coach seat for a long flight would amount to torture, Sam said, and Ernest agreed. So, if one went first class, all had to go first class.

  Allison had one last thing to do before they tempted fate across the bay and that entailed calling her family one more time to tell them how much she loved them. Her fears increased exponentially upon viewing the reports of increased civil unrest on the news last night. Friday violence ruled the day in San Francisco with small groups of protestors and the police increasing their efforts towards harassing one another. Throughout the day, groups of belligerent protestors had disrupted traffic and played havoc with the lives of employees and business people who depended on having access to the area. The police reacted more aggressively by employing sweeps that rounded up people indiscriminately. Along with the small numbers of violent protestors, they arrested non-violent protestors who were exercising their constitutional rights to walk on the sidewalks and voice their complaints. Plus, innocent tourists and people who came into the area on personal business were rounded up in the sweeps and arrested. People were thrown to the ground, beaten, handcuffed, and hauled off in police vans without any attempt to determine why they were in the area. Merchants pleaded on television for the protestors to go elsewhere as their livelihoods were suffering due to their customers being kept away or rounded up in the sweeps if they did make it into the besieged areas. Local politicians condemned the cost the demonstrations placed on the already diminishing public coffers. It looked as if things were building up for an explosion during the coming days.

  Allison wanted very much for that not to happen. Violence detracted from their message. Each destructive act cost the peace movement credibility.

  This city was on record as being against the war, and it served no purpose to foul your own nest. Preventing violence demanded her presence at the march as much as the need to voice her opposition against the war
. She knew how individuals who were prepared for violence could be induced into participating in wanton acts of destruction against property and humans. Both she and Sam had the scars to prove it.

  Each made their peace with the unknowable in some manner. Calls had been made to love ones. Non-essential items were left behind, like Sam’s Rolex, extra cash, and Allison’s rings, except her wedding band. Not intending to get involved, Ernest decided to omit his black beret but keep the dark glasses. He said after what he experienced during the last two days while talking with the professor, the only attitude he wanted to convey was one of humility. Likewise, Bobby seemed content to go as is, meaning he sported his jeans and a jungle fatigue jacket he once wore in combat. Allison donned her favorite long hippie dress and jean jacket, plus her favorite love beads for perhaps the last time. Sam said he would take his leather coat along and if it wasn’t too warm, he would wear it. They were ready to go.

  As the new owner of their main mode of transportation, Sam sat proudly behind the wheel. Bobby, acting as lookout and scout, sat shotgun while Allison and Ernest gladly located their persons in the rear. Allison took special notice of the sunshine that warmed her face as she walked the short distance to the bus. The day before them held promise if the weather could be counted on as a harbinger of things to come. Just to be sure, she crossed her fingers, then she crossed her arms over her chest, and finally, she crossed her legs. She was in no mood to debate the proven ineffectiveness of such ancient superstitions. She had no doubt there were evil forces afoot in the area, and although they were nowhere close to being supernatural, she was willing to employ any tool at her disposal to ward off any nefarious influences.

  The passengers in the vehicle rode along quietly as Sam drove through the sparse Saturday morning traffic towards the main route carrying them across the bay. To an outside observer, the twisting and turning of heads by the vehicle’s occupants gave an indication of a group of sightseers out for an early day tour. To an extent, they were right.

  “Damn, I must have been stoned out of my head when I was here the first time. I can see the Golden Gate Bridge on the horizon. If we get time, I still want to go across it before we leave. How about you, Sam?” Bobby stared intently towards the imposing sight off in the distance as they approached the Bay Bridge, their gateway to downtown San Francisco.

  “Actually, Bobby, I was kidding Allison when I said what I did. I’ll admit that I stayed stoned way too much back then, but I did know the difference between the two bridges. Sorry, but you’re alone on this one.”

  Bobby grimaced as Sam gave him the bad news.

  “Don’t worry about it, Bobby. At least you knew the difference between dried horse crap mixed with weeds and real grass that time when Sam wanted to buy some weed at that truck stop in Arizona. If not for you, he would have smoked a whole bale of horse droppings before he figured it out.” Allison couldn’t help but smile at the recollection of that poignant occasion of male bonding.

  Bobby turned in his seat to signal his thanks for her evening out the score. Sam frowned, “Man, that is so unfair! I had a head injury. I wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders.”

  Laughter rang out from inside the bus as it made its way across the long bridge connecting the cities of Oakland and Berkeley with the mother ship city, San Francisco. In the distance loomed the distinctive skyline of the city’s financial district, forming the backdrop for the watercraft activity taking place out in the bay. Power boats, sail boats, big ships, little ships all traveled about leaving only temporary evidence of their passing, in many respects mimicking the ultimately futile efforts of mankind to mark its own passage upon this earth.

  “Sam, do you know where we’re going?” asked Allison.

  Sam pointed to a sign ahead on the side of the road announcing the exit to the Civic Center. “Ask and you shall be shown the way. I suggest we park away from the area so we can get out more easily when we’re ready to go. Okay with everyone if we walk a couple extra blocks?”

  Allison couldn’t help but notice the increase in traffic going into the city. Sam’s idea made sense as the last thing she wanted was to be caught in a mess of exiting traffic when the day ended. “Sounds great to me,” she answered.

  Ernest and Bobby also went along with the plan, so Sam was given the responsibility to find a temporary safe harbor for their ride. Seeing a line of traffic starting to back up at the first exit, Sam went past it to the next one. His luck held as fewer vehicles queued up to get off there. The next necessity was to locate a parking spot that would ensure a quick exit when it came time to leave. Sam said he wanted nothing to do with the lots where attendants packed them in so tight you were forced to wait for other drivers to move before you could get your car out. The first sign they saw as soon as Sam exited the interstate announced the Civic Center was only blocks away from their present location. The next thing they noticed was a guy holding up a sign on the side of the street advertising choice parking in an enclosed warehouse building for the friendly sum of forty dollars. Sam whipped in so fast that the vehicle following along behind slammed on the breaks to keep from rear-ending the bus. Naturally, there ensued the usual amount of horn blowing and single digit finger waving as the offended driver passed by. The attendant assured them that the building would be open until the last car departed and that no other vehicle would block their exit no matter what time they chose to leave. After parking, they stood outside on the sidewalk deciding which direction offered the quickest route to the demonstration site.

  A half block away, hundreds of people, many holding signs, walked merrily along. Figuring that following the herd represented the safest bet, they fell in with the streaming crowd.

  “You guys help me remember that its 6th Street we need to come back on,” said Sam to the group as the pace picked up.

  Allison scoped out her fellow demonstrators as they walked in the direction of ground zero. She realized that the mix of people strolling along laughing and talking did not fit with her image of violent demonstrators. By percentage, less than twenty-five percent were of college age or younger. The great majority were families with young children or adults closer to her age. To Allison, this was both reassuring and disappointing at the same time. It was reassuring in the sense that these people were not going to be precipitating acts of senseless violence and disappointing because the generation which stood to lose the most, apparently, had more important things to do than stand up for their future. The reason for this anomaly was simple for Allison to figure out. There was no draft. Wait until they start dragging the kids off the campuses and putting them into uniforms like they did during the Vietnam fiasco, then there will be lots of activity from that group. If the people running this war are smart they will do everything they can to refill the ranks when the body bags start arriving home without resorting to the draft. They’re not that smart or devious, though, she told herself as she finished the depressing thought.

  After walking for several blocks, the stream of demonstrators they had joined turned onto a major thoroughfare and merged with a larger flow of peace activists heading for a mass of humanity off in the distance.

  Bobby must have sensed they were too late to get up front by following the herd any longer, so he motioned for his friends to follow a splinter group that turned off on a street that intersected their present route at a forty-five degree angle. Two short blocks ahead, they could make out an already swollen mass of humanity talking loudly while waving flags and posters. The noise level increased with each step. From out of nowhere, a jovial man appeared and handed Allison a poster before heading off through the new arrivals to continue passing out signs. She read the words printed boldly across the top and bottom of the poster. “No War on Iraq – No War on the World.” My sentiments exactly, she thought as she proudly held the poster aloft.

  Allison’s concerns lessened by degrees as the group inched its way closer to the plaza where hordes of protestors had staked out positions. The people arou
nd her showed no inclination of having an interest in violence. They acted as if they only wanted to make their voices heard through peaceful opposition to the unnecessary violence going on in Iraq. She breathed deeply for the first time and allowed the built up tension to escape her body. There was no need for worry; things were going to be all right. She would be going home alive after all.

  Absent the fear, Allison took stock of her surroundings. The pleasant sunny day had already registered in the plus column, but what else was there to see? Hundreds of peaceful protestors impressed her with their festive dress, their singing and laughing, and their constant chattering. Many people, dressed in short-sleeved shirts, reveled in the warm spring sunshine. New leaves, fluttering from the limbs of trees growing up through plots of soil located between the hard surfaced streets and the storefronts, gave notice of a pleasant breeze offering comfort to the fortunate individuals standing on the outer fringes of the ever expanding crowd. Parents faced the speaker stand and lifted their children to their shoulders so they could see first hand the activities going on during the historic event. There were thousands of signs everywhere you looked. Burn Your SUV, Moms for Peace, No Blood for Oil, and Not in our Name, were only a few of the statements offered to the public.

  Looking in other directions, Allison noticed the many green-vested organizers of the demonstration who moved among the huge crowd extolling the virtues of peaceful protesting. A glance upwards revealed police observers on roofs as well as in choppers overhead standing ready in case violence occurred. She looked for, but couldn’t see, evidence of the presence of any of the major news organizations. This didn’t surprise her, though. Coverage of throngs of average Americans protesting the actions of a government, to which the news outlet’s multi-national corporate owners were beholden, shouldn’t be expected. There would be a mention or a blurb somewhere no doubt, but not extensive coverage.

  A sight that did bother Allison was the large disgusting bruises a passing young girl displayed on her bare arms and legs. A cardboard sign hanging around her neck notified everyone that these offensive scars were the result of a police beating she received for exercising her constitutional right of free speech and assembly. The thought of the pretty young woman being beaten, especially, by those who had swore an oath to protect her, caused the bile in Allison’s stomach to rise up into her throat. She started sweating profusely and her pulse quickened. She felt lightheaded. Fortunately, Bobby saw what was going on, came to her side, and held firmly to her arm until the moment passed. By the time she regained her composure, the young girl had passed on by. Not, though, before letting people know that violence was close at hand, waiting for an excuse to inflict more pain upon the thousands of ingrates who had the effrontery to stand up and say it was wrong for their country to kill civilians in far off countries.

  Everything went about as well as Allison could hope for, and she recovered from the sight of the young girl’s bruised and beaten body. Her little group walked around the area and interacted with the other marchers. Not once did Allison see or hear anyone do or say anything to incite violent activity. In fact, the whole occasion was more in line with a music concert but without the loud bands. Unfortunately, she couldn’t hear any of the speakers who came to the microphone and caused the people closest to the front to cheer wildly from time to time. Following the speakers, a slow peaceful march on the area’s side streets ending up back at the plaza took up the remainder of the afternoon.

  As the sun that warmed their bodies throughout the day started to make its way towards the western sky, the festive crowd began to disburse. Allison stood for a moment reveling in the thought of having been a part of so much positive energy. Events such as this gave her hope for her children’s future.

  She also realized that her good friends and guardians were not about to say it was time to go. They waited for her to decide and would stay there all night if she wanted to.

  “I’m ready if you guys are,” was all she needed to say. Sam quickly determined the direction they needed to go to get out of the plaza and onto the same route that brought them there earlier. With Sam in the lead, followed by Allison, then Bobby, with Ernest bringing up the rear, they started back to the bus. Sam wasted no time, and the others had to hurry to keep up with his pace.

  They came out of the plaza, exiting onto the main thoroughfare traversed earlier while following the crowds on the way to the protest. Allison had a basic idea of where they were heading by this time. Sam had told them to remember 6th Street as the way to get back to the warehouse and their bus. They soon crossed over 9th Street, leaving only three more blocks until they turned.

  Along the crowded sidewalks, a group of young people up ahead on the other side of the street sang and danced to music as they went along. This is the way protest marches should end, Allison thought while watching the revelers. The people walking along with them seemed to agree. They pointed and laughed at the antics of the happy marchers on the opposite sidewalk. And I worried so much about today. She smiled at the thought of her cautious nature.

  One more block to go, she observed as the group crossed over 8th Street. Soon they would be in the home stretch. Everything had gone so well, there was no reason to expect anything different to happen at this late hour.

  At the same moment her thought was finished, Allison heard screams and shouting as a group of policemen rushed the music makers. The music ceased abruptly, replaced by shouts and more screams as the policemen encircled the dancers swinging their nightsticks. Innocent protestors fell to the pavement cowering from the onslaught of unprovoked violence.

  The people on Allison’s side of the street stood in shock at the sudden and unexpected show of brute force. Not a single individual had done anything to justify this response from the police. They merely sang and danced as they legally walked along the sidewalk. No official had confronted the group telling them to stop singing, to stop walking, disperse, or anything else. They simply corralled and attacked peaceful citizens exercising their constitutional rights to free speech and assembly. The officials beating the revelers had sworn to protect those very rights. This was nothing less than a crime and a violation of the Constitution of the United States of America.

  The shock quickly wore off and the witnesses to this illegal activity came to their senses and started to scream at the police to stop beating the innocent people. The police paid no heed. Allison watched in horror as five helmeted policemen flailed away at a single helpless individual on the ground. Policemen beat innocent protestors into submission and dragged them away with cords around their necks to waiting police vans. The protestations of the onlookers grew louder. Individuals began to look for things to throw at the unrestrained police officers. Bottles began to bounce off the police vehicles as some of the officers took notice and shielded themselves from the aerial barrage. Still, there was no let up in the unwarranted attack. Angry witnesses arriving on the scene set fire to trash cans and threw them in the direction of the attack. Parents who had brought children to the demonstration shielded them from the violent spectacle. Old people cowered in fear of being targeted by the rampaging officers.

  As the unbelievable events happening before her escalated to higher levels of human depravity, Allison froze, unable to comprehend the horrible sight. Every imaginable horror she fought to exorcise from her mind for so long had rematerialized. Nausea and dizziness caused her to reach out for Bobby’s strong arm to keep from falling. Sam and Ernest, likewise, closed in around their friend to offer support and protection. Still, the screaming, the shouting, beating, dragging, and bottle throwing didn’t stop. Bobby’s combat instincts kicked in. With their present position looking precarious and indefensible, he started moving the small group away from the mayhem towards the street corner where they could turn to go to their escape vehicle. Allison, transfixed by the insane events happening only yards away, allowed herself to be led towards safety.

  Only steps short of breaking free from the nightmare, Alli
son spotted a group of bicycle riders converging on the scene. Even in her distressed state of mind, she realized this was not the time, nor the place to be riding a bicycle. Someone had to tell them to get the hell away. They would be sitting ducks. It was then that she caught sight of the young woman she had seen earlier that day walking around with the sign around her neck. The young woman rode along blithely with the group unaware danger existed. The closer she came, the more visible were her vulgar bruises, even with the light of day fading. Allison’s outrage returned once more. What sort of inhuman creature could do that to such a lovely young girl?

  As Allison observed the mayhem, the other three concentrated on getting far away from the area as quickly as possible. They almost made it. The police, having beaten and arrested most of the original group of innocent citizens, now turned their attention towards the newly arrived bicyclists. The bicyclists never had a chance. The officers swarmed over them like locusts, knocking riders to the ground to beat them with their nightsticks. Allison jerked away from Bobby and started in the direction of the girl with the bruises to warn her to run away. Before she could shout a warning, a charging policeman knocked the girl from her bike. She fell to the hard street surface with a sickening thud. Allison screamed, but the attack had already begun. The officer kicked the bike out of the way to get a clearer shot at his helpless victim lying dazed on the street. He raised his nightstick as he grabbed the girl by the arm, pulling her away from the ground and hitting her across the shoulders with his club. Allison screamed as she charged the girl’s attacker. Nothing mattered anymore to Allison except protecting the helpless victim from a madman in a uniform.

  In the time it took to close the distance, memories of the sheer horror that enveloped her own fading consciousness the night she was attacked flashed before her eyes. This would not happen again as long as she had life in her body. The attacker raised his nightstick, once again assured of a clear shot at his victim. Allison, running as fast as she could, screamed like a crazed banshee and threw a body block into the side of the officer as his club started its descent. It was a perfect blind side hit. The officer’s nightstick went flying. Allison’s desperate act took him out of the play. The officer moaned and lay there with the wind knocked out of him. Allison crawled to the helpless girl who was lying on the street crying hysterically. Throwing her own body on top of the terrified girl, Allison assured her she would not let anyone hurt her again.

  Allison’s desperate act had caught Bobby off guard. He came to his senses in time to react as another officer stood over the two women swinging his nightstick giving the back of Allison’s head and shoulders a hard, but glancing, blow. He never got another swing. Bobby’s forearm smashed into the side of the officer’s helmeted head and sent him reeling to the ground several feet away. Bobby followed Allison’s lead and hurriedly laid his body on top of the two women. This small piece of real estate was starting to get crowded. Three innocent protestors huddled in a defensive pile, while two of San Francisco’s finest lay to one side temporarily incapacitated.

  The violence surrounding the attack on the three people in the pile might have ended, but more officers noticed the plight of their comrades and rushed to the pile. This time no less than two beefy officers arrived flailing away at Bobby’s head and backside with their nightsticks. Things looked bad, especially for Bobby, as the attackers started to find their rhythm. Like two woodchoppers taking alternating swings at a big log, they zeroed in on the back of Bobby’s shoulders and neck. The flailing officers forgot to cover their rear and left open a clear shot for a third member of the Dandelions to take them both out with another devastating body block. Sam was faster than Bobby and built up enough speed so that his thin physique had sufficient force to put two more misguided representatives of the law on the sidelines.

  Unlike Bobby, Sam did not try to make the pile of victims larger, but instead tried to get them to their feet to run. Most everyone’s attention now was directed to this particular spot in the street. Four officers had the wind knocked out of them, and four civilians, three beaten and bruised, huddled in wait for the next assault on their lives.

  Four more officers ran to the pile and encircled the four flaunters of their authority. Allison protected the girl with her own body as Sam and Bobby fought off their attackers by using their feet to kick outwards in self-defense. The surrounding crowd watching the event screamed and yelled their support for the innocent victims in the street who were fighting for their lives. Their opposition had no effect on the anger of the officials swinging the nightsticks like mad men. As hard and as fast as they were swinging, only a fool would think they wanted merely to subdue these lawless contrarians who refused to concede their constitutional rights to law enforcement officials acting entirely outside the law.

  The sheer savagery of the attack perpetrated by the wild-eyed officers standing over the unyielding foursome began to take its toll. A glancing blow to the side of Sam’s head took out one whole side of the defensive perimeter. Bobby fought on with his feet and his arms, but it was only a matter of time until he also would be rendered helpless. Three of the Dandelions were almost down for the count, leaving only one to salvage their beaten carcasses and carry the remains home to the grieving love ones. Ernest though, wasn’t quite ready to concede the demise of his friends.

  Once again, four of San Francisco’s finest forgot to cover their asses. Engrossed in flailing away at the struggling pile of humans on the ground in front of them, they didn’t notice a two hundred ninety pound, pissed-off, ex-Black Panther turned physician heading their way. Ernest should have been a professional football player. His flying block sent all four officers flying up in the air like bowling pins. He cleared out eight hundred pounds of human flesh and bone with a single hit. Compared to the hit Ernest delivered, the body blocks Sam and Bobby inflicted were like love taps. Now eight officers were down in the street with the wind knocked out of them wondering if anyone got the license number of the truck that hit them.

  Ernest rolled to his feet quickly and hurried to his companions to see how badly they were hurt. He displayed complete disregard towards the backup force of officers preparing to head his way. He only concerned himself with the safety of his friends. He checked Sam and found a large knot and some blood on his head but was relieved that he had apparently received only a glancing blow. Bobby had welts on his shins and a knot on the back of his head, which he said amounted to nothing. Allison, likewise, had a welt across the back of her neck and a sore head but otherwise, looked okay. The young girl, although shaken and bruised by the unexpected attack, suffered no life threatening injuries.

  Despite the screams of the surrounding crowd to halt the police violence against innocent people, a new larger force of officers started in the direction of the group. Everyone expected the worst. Who would save them if the people who are supposed to do the protecting were the ones breaking the law? They had put up the good fight and had given it their all, but it looked as if they were done for.

  Allison still had a job to do. As long as she was conscious, she intended to protect the young woman. She brought her three friends to their feet and formed a tight circle around the frightened girl. Holding hands, the four of them formed a defensive perimeter around their ward. Here the Dandelions would make their stand.

  The crowd noise suddenly grew to a crescendo as bright lights from a roving local TV live news team illuminated the scene. They charged to the front with lights ablaze and cameras rolling. This unexpected activity stopped the newly formed attacking force in their tracks. That’s all that was needed for the hundreds of protestors and bystanders who had observed the brave efforts of four old hippies to save an innocent young woman. The crowd charged to the front to form a formidable line of defense between the officers seeking revenge and the bruised and bloodied, but not beaten, Dandelions. Guiding hands then hustled the small group out of the crowd towards safety. Behind them, the noise of the new defenders guarding their escape grew loud
er. More television crews converged on the scene. The police would have their hands full with this unwelcomed activity long enough to let the group turn the corner with their rescuers and make a run towards a waiting van idling with its rear doors open.

  Still in shock, neither Allison nor her limping companions asked questions as they were being led away from the site of the brawl. Allison held tightly to the girl’s hand the whole time they ran. Arriving at the van, Allison waited to be the last one to enter. A young man in charge of the rescue attempt came up to Allison.

  “Please ma’am, we don’t have any time. You have to get in. We’ll take care of Rachael now. Bless you for doing what you did back there. The message of your generation still lives on in many of us. We won’t forget what we saw you do here tonight, and we will tell everyone we meet of your courage.” He addressed the girl, “Rachael, we have to hurry if we want to get them away safely.” Then he turned and entered into the passenger side of the waiting van.

  Allison turned to the girl whose hand she still held in hers. “It’s nice to meet you Rachael, my name is Allison. Are you all right?”

  The girl came forward and put her arms around Allison’s neck and hugged her as if she were holding on for her life. Stepping back and wiping tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, she said in a quivering voice, “Thank you for what you did. I can only hope that someday I will be the kind of person who will do the same thing if the time ever arises. I won’t ever forget you.” Turning away, she joined others in a second vehicle waiting in front of the van. Allison entered the waiting van with her friends and took a seat. The truck immediately moved away leaving the scene of the nightmare behind.

  Ernest filled the role of a physician once more. He busied himself tending to the cuts and bruises of his friends while he asked typical doctor questions about blurred vision, dizziness, on and on.

  Bobby spoke first. “I ain’t never seen nothing like that before! Did you guys see that? Ernest took out the whole damn bunch of ‘em with one hit. Boom! I looked up and saw bodies flyin’ everywhere. Damn, I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that!”

  Ernest paid his chuckling friends no mind as he went about his work.

  Allison looked at each of her bruised but steadfast companions. She agreed that Bobby said it best, “Damn, I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that!”