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Show Anting Alone Page 2 27 cars with their two-way radios off. They had breakfast from McDonald's, Eggs McMuffins and sausages and cokes and stuff like that, and also beers paid for by the Hostages for Freedom dues fund. They were cheering Spikey and the Hostages for Freedom. So it must be a parade they were doing today. Spikey had been wondering what they were really doing here today. He remembered that the political theory guy said something about parades, something about his good elder brother or somebody who was so mighty that he'd be able to call off the few law-enforcement guys in these parts that might object to unlicensed parades by private paramilitary social clubs. The political theory guy drove the official truck real slow down the middle of mainstreet while the guys marched real proud and stately alongside. It seemed like a regular enough mainstreet, except it was all deserted. That was strange for a Saturday morning in farm country. And all the store signs were wrote in a weird language that nobody in their right mind ever saw. It was a clean mainstreet, too, for these parts, hardly any horseshit. The political theory guy had the loudspeakers on, and he was saying some really mean stuff, talking real mean just to scare the foreigners. "Hide your daughters, godless pagans of Wheatville!" he yelled. "He don't mean it. We're just tryin to scare 'em cause they been gettin too uppity, thinkin they can buy land outside their own territory, that's all," said Spikey, like he was told to say, winking at his little pal. He let the kid walk a little closer. The political theory guy sometimes talked himself out too far on the craziness limb, in Spikey*s view. He was tall and muscular and about |