The Minotaur Sampler, Volume 6 by William Christie

Author:William Christie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

CHAPTER FIVE

Outside the mosque, a commotion was growing. Other families had joined the Somali women who had gathered there in the morning. Deputies from the substation were aggressively moving the barriers back to expand the perimeter. Farther down the street a group of Somali teens raced to the scene, drawn by the cries of the women. They’d come from Main Street, two blocks over; some were carrying take-out cups from a local café, and dropped them as they hurried to confront the police, who swiftly closed ranks behind the barriers.

It took less than a minute for everything to change. Batons came out. The Somali teens chanted at the cops at the barricade. They tried to force the women back out of harm’s way; the women linked arms, trying to push the boys back. An officer rushed to his patrol car, turning the siren on. Others rushed to the sheriff’s rig, unloading equipment from the back.

Inaya and Jaime ran from the tent to the sound of metal crunching bone. Cries of fear filled the air. There was a concerted push against the barriers by the teens, then they were through, caught up in skirmishes. A woman and a boy fell to the ground, boots kicking at their heads. The boy was wrestled onto his stomach by two Blackwater cops; one put his knee on the boy’s back as the other restrained him, then struck the boy’s head with his baton. It made a horrifying sound. The boy continued to fight, and when he turned his head to the side, Inaya saw blood on his face. The second cop leaned in, lining up his baton against the boy’s dark throat. Both ends of the stick were grasped in his strong hands, exerting pressure on the boy’s larynx.

Other confrontations had broken out down the line.

The bright glare of the sun gave the scene an air of unreality, as if a film were being recorded, the sound at a muffled distance. And indeed, there were witnesses who held their cell phones up, recording the naked brutality.

The sheriff wandered out of the tent, making no move to interrupt. He bowed to Inaya, a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

“Call your men off!” she shouted.

“It’s your scene,” he said with relish.

Jaime plunged into the melee to rescue a woman being trampled. Inaya followed at his back. A blow bounced off her shoulder as she wriggled her way between the blue line and the members of the crowd who had pushed through the barricade. Nearly everyone was taller than she was, but she had Jaime at her side as a bulwark. She shouted herself hoarse. It did nothing to stop Grant’s men, and she saw with horror that a woman’s shawl was stained with blood, the side of her face badly bruised. She called to the women to fall back.

Jaime threw himself at the cop who was choking the boy with his baton. The stick went flying from the officer’s hand, skirting the hot pavement. Someone

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