Firebase Freedom by William W. Johnstone Page A

and Edna Manning, along with their son, Eddie, and Clara Poindexter, with her daughter, Jane, arrived at Ladd Stadium, they saw posted on every lamppost in the parking lot:

    OBEY OHMSHIDI

    Again, with the stylized “O” in the word “Obey,” on every other post, they saw the drawing of Ohmshidi’s head, the ever-present portrait in red, beige, and blue, looking slightly up and to his left with his pensive, “I am so much better than you” look.
    Here too, they were met by several dozen local policemen as well as several SPS men. It was a policeman, and not one of the SPS officers, who stepped up to the car.
    â€œObey Ohmshidi,” Paul greeted.
    The policeman returned the greeting, then asked, “How many children do you have?” He was holding a clipboard.
    â€œThere are two in the car,” Paul Manning answered.
    â€œTheir ages?”
    â€œMy son is sixteen.”
    â€œAnd my daughter is fifteen,” Clara spoke up from the backseat.
    â€œQuiet, woman. You do not have permission to speak,” the police officer said.
    â€œBut I thought you wanted . . .”
    â€œI said QUIET, WOMAN!”
    â€œMama,” Jane whispered.
    â€œThe girl is fifteen,” Paul said. “But she isn’t my daughter, she is the daughter of the lady in the backseat, my next-door neighbor.”
    â€œIt is not permissible for a woman to ride in the car with a man who is not her husband or her relative.”
    â€œShe is my sister,” Paul said quickly. It was a lie, and Paul took a chance, but it was either that, or see Clara punished.
    â€œAnd this woman?”
    â€œIs my wife.”
    Both Clara and Edna were wearing scarves and veils, though Jane was not.
    The policeman stood there for a moment as if he might challenge Paul to prove that Clara was his sister.
    â€œOfficer Carter! Move them out quickly!” one of the SPS men shouted to the policeman, and he nodded. Paul realized then, that any thought of challenge had passed.
    â€œWhat are their names?” Officer Carter asked.
    â€œEddie is the sixteen year old. Jane is fifteen.”
    â€œTheir full names,” Carter demanded with a long suffering sigh.
    â€œJack Edward Manning, and Jane,” he turned in the seat and, quietly, Eddie supplied Jane’s middle name.
    â€œAnn.”
    â€œJane Ann Poindexter,” Paul said.
    Officer Carter wrote something in a notebook. “Is this all there is to it?” Edna asked. “Are the children registered now? Will you be sending the identity cards to the house?”
    â€œIf either of your women speak again, without being spoken to, I will have all three of you whipped!” Carter said, gruffly.
    â€œThen I shall ask the question,” Paul said. “Are we free to return home now?”
    â€œYou two,” Carter said to Eddie and Jane. “Out of the car.”
    â€œOut of the car? What for? We gave you their names and addresses. What more do you want?” Paul asked.
    Officer Carter drew his pistol and pointed it at Paul. “I want them out of the car,” he demanded.
    â€œWe’re coming,” Eddie said, opening the door and stepping out. Jane slid across the seat, then stepped out behind him.
    The policeman tore off the sheet of paper he had been writing on, and handed it to Eddie. “You two, on that bus over there,” he said.
    It wasn’t until then that Eddie and the others in his family noticed that there were several buses, and that there were lines of children of all ages boarding them.
    â€œWhat do you want us on the bus for? I thought we were just supposed to come here to get registered,” Eddie said.
    â€œDon’t give me any backtalk, you little punk! Just climb on that bus like I told you,” Carter hissed, angrily.
    â€œJust a minute!” Paul said. “You can’t talk to my kid like that!”
    Carter turned toward the open car window, then hit Paul on the side