Everyone just stood there—it wasn’t exactly the type of thing you wanted to root for—and looked at each other. For one—at least if the soldiers didn’t shoot—it meant sending the things away while still in possession of the woman.
Those things roared as everybody looked on, one seeming to answer the other, vibrating the glass.
At last Abbie said, “Look, if it’s between my daughter and that—that thing, than I’m with the President, clearly.” She looked around the room, shaken almost to tears. “Well, for f**k’s sake! Isn’t everybody?”
“We—we are,” said one of the girls in Cameron’s group—the activists. “We’re ... we’re really scared.”
“Me too,” said Elliott. “I’m with the President, that is.” He lowered his eyes as the woman’s screams penetrated the glass. “Can’t say I feel too good about
