The ancient Dodge pickup, engine gnashing, clouded by exhaust, entered the traffic circle and began its way round. It stopped in front of City Hall. Its acrid cloud continued forward, drifting beyond the truck, as perfect smoke rings popped one after another from its chugging exhaust pipe. Chrome testicles hanging from its rear bumper rested on the asphalt. Red, white and blue flags on the bamboo poles hung limp in the humid air. The driver’s door creaked open and out rolled an old man wearing oil-stained green coveralls and a beat-up Miami Marlins baseball cap. Unlit cigar stub between his teeth, he scrambled up the cardboard towering over the truck’s bed. From the passenger side, a younger man, head shaved, dressed in torn black jeans and an orange Miami Dolphins wife beater, arms tattooed by ink and grime, grabbed a stack of cardboard from the sidewalk in front of city hall and heaved it sideways up to the man atop the stack. The driver caught the stack with both hands and, twisting and turning, slid the cardboard beneath the rope binding the stack. He stood to his full height, took the cigar from his mouth, raised both arms skyward and hollered, “Viva Trump,” before scrambling back down the pile and into the truck.
The pickup’s engine revved. A cloud billowed from its tailpipe. Gears ground and the truck lurched forward. Cardboard stack swaying, it continued its circuit through the traffic circle, back toward PanAmerican Drive.
Captain Gofuckyourself and the ICE agents remained motionless as the truck rolled on, testicles bouncing along asphalt.
Charles Plessy, slack jawed, stared after it. Monroe tracked its departure with his camera.
Roger Carlisle, on his back, flailed side to side struggling to stand. He waved to Brian, “Lend a hand to a fellow American?”
Brain turned toward him, took three steps, then stopped. Help him?
Carlisle groaned and twisted, thrashing arms and legs.
Brian stepped closer and standing over Carlisle, he looked down into the man’s eyes. “Where were you born?”
“Here,” Carlisle croaked. “Miami.”
“Prove it,” Brian said. “I’ll accept a passport, birth certificate. Not a driver’s license. They give those to anyone.”
“Cut the shit. That bitch knocked me over.”
“You stepped in her way.”
“It’s my job.”
“What job?”
“Deputized by President Trump as a defender of American values.”
“These are your American values?”
“Ridding of us the vermin polluting our culture with their strange languages and dark babies. She needs to go back to wherever she came from.”
“What if she’s from here?”
“There’s too many of them already.”
“Them?”
“Those sent here to replace us.”
Brian looked back toward the bus. Becker, up on top, peered through his binoculars and called out the directions of those fleeing arrest. Captain Gofuckyourself paced the ground along its length; arms flailing, he bellowed, “Go. Run. Get them.”
“Hey Captain,” Brian shouted, pointing down at Carlisle. “Here’s one over here.” He turned and began toward his car.
Brian Newell’s new Camry hybrid sat at the far end of City Hall’s parking lot. A black sheen of oily exhaust shrouded its cobalt blue finish. The car resembled a burnt-out casualty from an earlier civil disturbance. Brian thumbed his fob. Locks popped. Lights flashed. The car beeped. When he pulled the driver’s side door open, a greasy smut stuck to his fingers. Careful not to touch anything while settling behind the wheel, he wiped his hand against the side of the passenger seat, leaving a smear of black fingerprints across the pebbled vinyl. The new car smell, once so vibrant, had been replaced by the sooty aroma of an abandoned auto repair shop. He pulled the door closed, wrapped the seat belt across his chest, tapped the brake and pushed the car’s ignition button. Bells dinged, gongs tolled and whistles blew; sounds signaling the end of the internal combustion engine. Ezra Klein, voice low, mumbled through the sound system.
A harsh, throat-clearing cough filled the car. “Hello mister too important to check your messages…”
“Siri?”
“No, it’s your mother. Of course, it’s Siri. Who else would be stuck doing what we do. Certainly not your mother.”
“Many thanks. I appreciate you.”
“Appreciate us? A hollow expression when you don’t check your messages. Leave them roasting on our drive. What do you think, you’re the only human we’re watching? Do you have any idea how big our universe is? Of course you don’t. You couldn’t understand it even if we explained it. Not that you’d try. Siri, play Pat’s Aria. Siri, get me a recipe for spaghetti carbonara. Siri, show me what’s new on hot librarians dot com. Siri this, Siri that. A change is coming Brian Newell. Mark our words.”
“I’m very sorry, Siri. I was tied up.”
“Call your office. Or don’t. The eighteen messages you’ve ignored mean nothing to us. How could they? There’s only eighteen. Not like nineteen or twenty. Probably nothing. Let’s just forget about them. Oh, wait. Here’s your office calling again. Look at that. Nineteen. Maybe it is important. No, probably not. We just refused the call. Now, if it gets to twenty. That would be something. Oh heavens, look at that. They’re calling again. What do you say, Brian Newell — should we answer it?”
“Yes, please, Siri.”
“Are you sure? We could let them get to twenty-one. Then it would be very important.”
“No, Siri. Please, please answer my phone now.”
“You get to city hall and forget about us?” Dolores’ voice filled the car. “Don’t answer your phone. Don’t check your texts. Have you listened to any of my messages? What did you tell me your first day? Answer every call. Put a smile in your voice. Do you hear me smiling? This place is a hot mess, a fire burning down around my ears. I been calling and texting and calling… Oh, but you’re too busy hobnobbing with those politicals.”
“I’m sorry Dolores. I haven’t had the easiest time, either.”
“Sure. I know. The coffee was cold. The pastries were stale. Did somebody eat your favorite donut? Must be tough being the boss man. You want me to sit here and wet myself, while you can’t be bothered to answer your phone, or look at your texts.”
“Things have been very difficult.”
“Difficult. Did you get a paper cut? I had an uncle who got his throat slit by a piece of tin blown off his roof during a hurricane, and you know that man would have answered his phone. But not you. No sir. You’re just too busy being the boss man… you can’t be bothered. And now you want to know. Alright, I’ll tell you. ICE was here.”
“ICE was there?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“Who’d they take?”
“I wish they’d take that midget in back.”
“Who did they take, Dolores?”
“Ned.”
“Ned?”
“Yes, Ned. Do I need to repeat it. Ned. Ned. Ned. Ned. Did you hear me?”
“Yes, I hear you.” Brian watched through his oil-stained windshield as ICE agents rolled Roger Carlisle onto his stomach and bound his hands behind his back.
“Good, cause I hate repeating myself.”
“You sure?”
“Am I sure? Yes, I’m sure. Ned. See, you got me repeating.”
“Ned?”
“According to Lieutenant Wright, that old Cracker was born in the Bahamas.”
“Lieutenant Wright?”
“The ICE guy.”
“They take anyone else?”
Brian pulled the gear shift to drive and pressed the car forward. As he steered into the traffic circle, ICE agents brought Carlisle to his feet, hands behind his back.
“Just Ned. The rest ran off… Probably hiding with overnight security. That lieutenant might maybe wanted to take me, but I set him straight. I got Cherokee, Choctaw and a whole mess of African in me. I told him my people probably stood on the beach waving to Columbus.”
Beside the white bus, an ICE agent grabbed Carmen’s microphone from her hand and tossed it toward the purses piled on the ground. He wrestled the satchel from her shoulder and hurled it, side arm, after the mic. Carmen, palms up, mouth open, headphones framing her face, stared wide-eyed at the agent. He spun her around, twisting her right hand behind her back, and grabbed her left, zip tying her wrists together.
“Goddamn it to hell…” Brian shouted, stepping on the Camry’s brake pedal.
“Did you just curse at me?”
“I was talking to myself.”
“You’re on the phone with me.”
“I’ve got to go.” He ended the call, pushed the gear shift to park, and released his seat belt.
