Pandemonium

Ambulances were pulled up along the curb while streams of Environmentalists ran this way and that. Several police officers were yelling into megaphones, their jobs changing from keeping the rally under control to keeping the rally safe. Someone was being loaded into a stretcher. A woman was crying out for her friend. For just a moment, Proctor felt that he could not believe what was happening in front of him. Then he could believe it had all been an accident. But the moment passed and there was only the thing before him. “Frieda, go see if everyone is okay by the ambulances. I’m going to find Cuckler,” Proctor said. On the ground were dozens of blue bandanas, part of Cuckler’s grand idea for a new rally for Bordex, one that included an excessive number of references to how no blood would be present for the show. Proctor walked by a girl screaming into her cell phone, “Yes, it was a fucking drive-by! Then the building caught on fire and everyone just started running. Mom, PLEASE come pick me up!” There was a guy tearing off his dark blue clothes and screaming for everyone to do the same. The fire trucks pulled up and began hosing the G.W.C.M. headquarters but it didn’t look like there was much left of the little building. Proctor had always found the place to be intimidating back when they were drawing away all of Hobart’s donations. Now, it just seemed like a loss. Proctor finally found Cuckler pouring whiskey into a diet soda via a flask. He was in a business suit and his face held a blank expression. Proctor slapped the soda out of his hand and stared Cuckler in the face. There was no signature glare to meet him. “I can’t fucking believe you would do this. A group that even works for the same cause. Is this some kind of revenge thing against Bordex?” Proctor demanded. Cuckler’s face was pale and unsure. “I haven’t done anything. Protests meet violent resistance all the time. These just happen to have been gang affiliated. It’s all…Proctor, we have to remain vigilant against violence to our cause,” Cuckler mumbled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an orange pill bottle. Cuckler popped the last three inside of it and threw the bottle on the ground. “What the fuck are you taking? Xanax so you can sleep at night? Jesus Cuckler, you encouraged this. You know damn well the reason this rally was attacked had nothing to do with the planet. You just wanted to get back at Bordex for embarrassing you!” Cuckler held up his hand for a few moments and said nothing. Then he turned and looked Proctor in the face. The glare was back and as silencing as ever. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you have a problem with the way things are run, we can discuss it in the office tomorrow,” Cuckler said icily before walking away. Proctor glared at the ground in silence for a while before noticing where the orange pill bottle had landed. Scrawled in marker on the side was a cartoon elephant.