"We'll call it a caravan then." The voice

  was flat but terse.  People pretended that it was a nice visit.  

  "Be a nice girl and that might not be so bad for you." The bruise on the woman's back matched the barrel of the gun herding us into an easy capture. 

  "A bunch of 'em!" A goofy grinning jacked up character like Yosemite Sam fired two gigantic revolvers into the air.  "They'll hear that on the highway." A woman assured.  But we'd seen the dead who'd tried to help. A three guy team approached the shooter.  "Done?" 

  "He's done." Another woman dressed like a gypsy opened a woven bag and peeled a twenty off a roll of stripped 'em of it.  "That's not stealing is it?" A leather jacketed boy wondered out loud.  "Why do you ask?" A far-away looking woman with a carpenter's belt holster stuffed with pistols didn't even look at the kid.  "It's on this list," he took a greasy fingered sheet of looseleaf from a pocket.  "Read it." 

  "I don't want to." The woman pouted.  "My dreamy is wearing off.  Let's get there." 

  "Let's try this again." An asthma attack had the Officer unable to just say it into the stolen Cop car radio.  The Officer turned to bend over to catch breath but was facing others with guns.  "Oh, oh, ohKAY." 

  "Why did you fire your weapon Occifer?" 

  "I, I try TRIED," eyes trying to read cue cards, breath steadying, "To stop the bad guys, bah" a loud smack on a bare back of a hairy chested man rolling a hand for the line to come out.  The Officer fell forward in a sort of swoon.  Peeked at the cue card in the hand of a hottie and stood up tall; "BUT they got away." Someone yelled, "That's the cue asshole!" The hottie stroked the smacked back.  "Let's go Epp." 

  "Idiot." A man said casually when someone fired a .22 near the feet of the Officer. 

  "It's about the oyle." Someone slammed a car door not going any further. 

  "I couldn't not," someone winced at the peroxide sting on full frontal road rash.  "Should I just write: Clung onto the bumper?" A helper asked.  "That doesn't begin to explain this." A Detective looked at the smear of black down the highway.  "Why could you not?" A Superior asked, stepping in front of a kid still staring at the roofing tar, and vehicles all over the road with shotgun blown out windshields.  A PAL jacketed man tucked another child behind legs.  Mirrored sunglasses and the creaking of leather turned heads.  "Hurry up.  Why?" 

  "They had all our children lined up naked and being photographed on a front lawn."  A squeaky chain unrolled from a tow truck crane.  A mousey haired nerdy type woman brought over a mug shot book.  "Gotta go," the wounded person ran towards a waiting Mustang.  That roared off.