Previously
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click here please for the SECOND PART
Mike half ran to the commotion up ahead. The queue of idling vehicles spewing exhaust fumes made the passageway darker, narrower, and ominous. The searing brightness of the blue sky peeked between the car roofs and the underbelly of the elevated mass rail transit structure above. Mike forced himself to quicken his steps as his stomach began to churn.
A stage was set in the clearing that formed in the midst of the barricaded smashed autos. A loose throng gathered by the sidewalk. Appalled onlookers felt coerced by the burly stance of two back-up enforcers who herded everybody to back off. Their hands kept fumbling for the bulges of weapons tucked underneath waistbands.
"Putang ina kayo, mga abusado, this is police brutality, you SOB's" , the driver struck back with the only weapon his mouth could spit out. A balled fist bludgeoned it shut as his remaining teeth split between his inner chords and the pavement below. An old lady began to shriek in the sidelines in terror.
"Hey what's going on here. C'mon who are you people? Leave the poor driver alone!" a handsome, crew cut, tall and lanky American in white short sleeved shirt with black tie and black pants jumped from a jeep at the front of the line. Mike always harbored an inner admiration for these Mormon missionaries who braved heat and dangers in the poor hovels to carry out their work. This one obviously has far overstepped the guidelines of Salt lake City.
"You better stay out of this if you know what's good for you, yank. This is purely a police matter." "Tigil, stop, hinto yan", The clean cut young man with auburn hair added a smattering of local dialect he picked up. The Gestapo like detective who stepped up to confront him was disarmed a bit by the novel talk. He recovered quick enough to grab the missionary by the throat.
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