CWA heckling her. No one buying it, not even the people on her side. The woman’s smile so strained it looks as if it might break her wincing face by the time she’s done. Erik, arms crossed, hip against the wall, scans the crowd, mouth set. Sweating through the back of his white T-shirt. Karen in jeans, sneakers, hair in a ponytail. First time he has seen her bare arms, freckled from shoulder to wrist. Still writing in her notebook. Someone says over the microphone, We are all here to celebrate the wondrous beauty of these precious mountains. Scattered applause. Someone calls out directions to turn and start the march; there’s a mass shifting in the crowd but it doesn’t go anywhere, people jammed up against each other’s backs, increasingly airless. Why aren’t we moving? Leni wonders, and Erik lifts her by the waist so she can see over the top of the group. Holy fucking shit, she whispers. A mass of black-masked, black-clothed figures slowly press against the momentum of the crowd, like a drop of blood unfurling in a glass of water. Many hundreds strong. One of the figures throws a bottle toward the sidewalk, hitting a CWA man in the face, busting his nose open. Like lighting a match. Everyone immediately yelling, shoving. Xie reaching for Jo’s arm but there is more glass and then a sudden surge of bodies on both sides, some jumping the barriers, not enough police to maintain the line between the protesters and the CWA. Xie covers his head. A man reaching for Karen, blindly, why Karen of all people and she turns but there is nowhere to go, his hand is in her hair, brutal wrench of her head backward, her strangled yelp. Erik shouting, Hey, hey! Forcing his way between the man and Karen, Jo throwing a punch to someone’s mouth, spray of blood and Leni’s shriek and Xie a coward, eyes shut, body folded double. His father’s arms around him, hard, holding him up, saying something to Jo and Jo not listening but Erik roars JO MOVE NOW, pushing them backward through the crowd just keep moving. Brutal brunt of bodies no air endless smash of glass smell of smoke and black masks filtering through the crowd, striking back at the police with clubs, pepper spray, bottles, elbows, knees, knives, vicious twist of bodies wanting to do the worst to other bodies. Thick adrenaline sweat and Jo and Erik plowing forward to a side street where runners rush past, through a toppled barricade, breaking off from the mass. Behind a Target they stop. Breathless. Erik’s hands on Xie’s shoulders, Are you okay? Karen murmuring to Leni, who holds her hand, finger swollen, trying not to cry, I’m fine. Jo red-faced, spitting into the gutter. Motherfuckers. Everyone just take a second, Erik says, panting. Just take a second. Still the sounds from the street. A siren. Looking over their shoulders to make sure no one coming toward them. Karen on her phone, calling a cab.