One Second After

“Phil, get back into the Edsel. Turn it off, but be ready to fire it up if I give the word. Colonel, how about you and I stand sentry.”

Washington leaned against the bridge railing, John beside him, and from a distance it would look like nothing had changed.

John pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and saw the second cop looking up at him.

“Want one?”

“Yes, sir.”

John pulled one out, handed it down, the cop motioning to his pocket. Washington nodded and the cop drew out a lighter.

“Damn, thank you, sir. Ran out of smokes two days ago.”

John, still holding the pack, looked down and counted. There were eight cigarettes left. He pulled two more out and handed them over.

“Hey, thanks, sir.”

The universal gesture of a trade to cement the peace kicked in at that moment and John could see the second cop relax, exhaling with pleasure after he took a deep puff.

John looked over at the cop who was gingerly touching his now-swollen nose that was still leaking blood.

“You smoke?”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Hey now,” Washington said.

“Gus, you just don’t know when to shut the hell up,” the second cop said. “Stupid shit, you got what you deserved for once.”

Gus shot him a bitter look, saying nothing but the gaze communicating that there would be payback time later for the comment.

“What’s your name?” John asked the reasonable cop.

“Bill.”

“What’s been happening here, Bill?”

“I guess you can see it, sir,” and though still sitting on the pavement, he gestured back towards the town.

“Looting, panic. Martial law declared yesterday. They actually executed a guy last night right in the middle of Pack Place. He had killed a cop.

“Got what he deserved then,” Washington replied.

“How the hell would you know?” Gus replied, his voice thick.

“Because, you stupid shithead, I’m a cop, but unlike you I got some sense to me. Twenty-four years a marine before that. You might not believe this, buddy, but I’m on your side. But frankly, in your case, shore-patrol types like you I eat up for breakfast.”

“Some people coming,” Jeremiah announced, and nodded up Charlotte Street.

“I hope you guys cooperate,” Washington said.

“Yeah, sure,” Bill replied. “I got no beef with you. Besides, you guys were right.”

“Wait until I tell the chief about this,” Gus said coldly. “Be my guest. I’m not the one who got thrashed.”

John saw where Jeremiah was pointing and the sight was absolutely startling. It was like a procession, a hundred or more. Mostly the downtown weirdos as Jennifer called them.

Asheville across the years had developed something of a reputation as a throwback, a “Haight-Ashbury East,” with a bizarre street life of aging hippies and New Agers, Wiccans, and just a lot of drugged-out kids. They were, to John’s view, harmless, though the more conservative element of the city and county had real difficulties dealing with them. Frankly, he sort of got a kick out of their presence; there was still, within himself, a touch of them from his own youth.

It was indeed a procession, some guys up front beating on drums, a couple of girls, one of them definitely cute, with long blond hair and a sixties-looking nearly transparent dress on, with nothing on underneath, an old guy, gray beard and hair, wearing a robe carrying a sign that actually declared; “The End HAS Finally Come.” Another sign read: “Stop Globalization,” other signs “We Got What We Deserved” and several “Peace Now.”

Jeremiah stood there grinning as the girl came up to him and did a bit of a provocative dance to the beat of the drum. As the group passed by the side of the Honda SUV, someone slowed.

“Hey, they’ve got some cops! Looks like they kicked the shit out of Gestapo Gus.”

The procession began to grind to a halt.

“Wow, man. Revolution now!” someone shouted, beginning to approach Washington.

“Revolution my ass,” Washington said coldly, and the protestor stopped in his tracks.

Bill stood up.

“George, you know me,” he said, speaking to the bearded character carrying the end-has-come, sign. “Yeah, Bill.”

“Everything’s cool here. Gus fell and broke his nose. These guys are helping out, so why don’t you just move along.”

The leader nodded, the beat was picked back up, and the parade moved on.

“Absolutely unreal,” Washington sighed.

“Asheville,” Bill replied. “You gotta love it, even now at times. I know a lot of those kids; most of them are ok, even if a bit misguided.”

The dancing blonde came up to him and kissed him on the cheek. Bill actually patted her on the butt before she danced off.

He caught John’s eye and grinned slightly.

“Monica and I had a little thing going a couple of months back.”

“Wow, you and her?” Jeremiah asked. Bill grinned but said nothing.

John pulled out two more cigarettes and gave another one over, both he and Bill lighting up.