Everyone needs a personal MiB
Ahead of us, less than a half-mile lay a roadblock. A massive one, like something from a movie I saw a long time ago. There were ten or a dozen vehicles, although this roadblock lacked the fatal bulldozer blade of the movie. Small consolation. It appeared as if they had called out every government vehicle, marked and unmarked, sedan and dump truck, that they could find.
Alex was slow to answer, and by the time he did, I had let the car coast to a slow creep as we approached the roadblock. Weapons pointed in our direction, there was no question of fighting our way out of this one. Matt quickly explained the situation to Alex, asked for help and then laid the phone on the dashboard, leaving the line open.
Putting the car in Park, while keeping our hands visible, we stopped and waited.
Finally, three officers took positions around our car, weapons aimed and told us to climb out of the car, drop to our knees and place our hands on our heads.
I told the fur-girls to do likewise and not to speak or move.