The Swing Voter of Staten Island Read Online Free Page A

panel affixed to the vehicle’s hood, bringing it to a slow halt.
    “Good job!” the bus driver yelled back to Carnival, then turned at the next corner to try and get back to his route. Amid the maze of sandy streets blocked by debris, they had difficulty finding their way. The driver came upon a narrow yet clear street that ran loosely parallel to his route. Following it as far as he could, the driver turned again, only to find a shiny new car blocking the street. A group of burly young men were standing around it. The bus driver stomped on the brakes and tried turning his vehicle around. “We’re trapped!” he said. “These guys are probably in cahoots with the Flatlander!”
    “I don’t think so,” Uli replied. He noticed Mallory desperately hoisting her thick document and official identification badge up under the solar panel above the bus. Still in her wig disguise, she slipped contact lenses over her pupils. The driver had only completed the second part of a three-point turn when some kid raced over from the shiny car, dragging a long spike strip before the front wheels. The bus driver jammed on the brakes, causing the solar panel to shoot forward and crash to the pavement.
    “Fuck!” Mallory yelled, as her huge election document tumbled to the ground as well.
    The driver groaned and threw the bus into reverse, crashing into a dead fire hydrant.
    The rest of the burly boys dashed over to them. Four unsynchronized bursts erupted and the bus sank down several inches—they had popped the tires.
    “I’m Officer Chain! Open the goddamn door, we’re Pigger gangcops!” the oldest and fattest of them shouted, flashing a gold badge. He was stocky and bald, with wire-frame glasses and a square-linked chain wrapped around his thick neck like a glittering, unknotted tie. Some strange mechanical object that Uli didn’t recognize was affixed to his forehead. As the man came closer, Uli saw that the forehead appendage resembled a bent scope from a sharpshooter’s rifle.
    The driver stepped out of the bus, leading Mallory, Uli, and the Carnival family behind him. Five large men with machetes surrounded them. A sixth gangcop raced on board and brought out some of the items they had left behind.
    “May I ask why, if you’re a Pigger officer and this is a Crapper neighborhood—” Uli started.
    “May you ask?” Officer Chain cut him off. “Who are you, the fucking King of Siam?”
    “He just arrived here,” Mary explained.
    As two gigantic men silently pushed everyone face-forward against the side of the bus, Oric nervously whispered, “Rockaway 6, Greenpoint 22, Howard Beach 9.”
    One of the gangcops searching for weapons lecherously patted down Mallory’s breasts and groin.
    “Where’d you get the kangaroo?” Chain asked her. Both Carnival and Uli leaned toward her protectively.
    “Found him along the side of the road.”
    “You look familiar as shit,” Chain replied, as his sharp chain swung up against her arm.
    “Never had the pleasure,” she replied icily.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Frances,” Carnival spoke up before she could say anything. “She’s my child.”
    “What are your affiliations?” one of the men asked her.
    “None of us are wearing any colors,” Mallory replied, as though citing a key rule of engagement.
    “That’s right. You don’t have the right to ask nothing!” the bus driver declared.
    “How about you, New Yorker?” the bully said to Uli, scanning his eyes with his scopic horn. A red ray shooting out from its tip led Uli to believe it was a lie detector. “You pro-life or pro-choice?”
    “He doesn’t know the issues,” Mallory answered for him.
    When one of the assistants edged up toward Mallory again, Uli stepped forward, compelling the man to lift his blade. Mallory raised her hand, urging restraint.
    The lead cop swung his cyber horn into Mallory’s eyes, but before he could ask any questions, Carnival punched the device.
    “Motherfucker!” Chain