by Rob Hart
“Since I only ate a little and puked it up, I was pretty much fine,” Aesop says. “Lots of charcoal and fluid and tests. They wanted to keep me in observation but I told them to fuck off. We talked it down to some follow-up tests in a week to make sure my liver function and electrolyte levels are good. I feel run down but I think that’s more from not sleeping well in the hospital.”
“Glad you’re back in it. Especially given the timing.”
“What about you? How are you doing?”
“Been better, but I’m not seeing snakes and bugs everywhere I look, so that much is nice.”
“Hello? Hello.” I turn, thinking Tibo is talking to me, but he’s on his cell phone. “Ford, it’s Tibo. Listen, we have a problem. That thing we were talking about before? We found them. You need to come meet us.”
He gives the town and road we’re headed to, and clicks off.
“So, what now?” Aesop asks.
“We keep going,” I tell him.
“You mean we try to stop them.”
“We’re already on the road,” I tell him. “We might beat Ford. They’re aiming to hurt innocent people. We can’t sit by and let that happen.”
Aesop smiles. “That works for me.”
We stop at the end of a long dirt road leading up a hill. There’s a sign for the project at the foot of the road. METCO ENERGY, with a bunch of laminated permits stuck up underneath that. To the right, there’s a wide expanse of nothing, just flat land stretching to the horizon. To the left, a long line of trees.
Aesop pulls the car into the trees, until we’re well off the road and out of sight. We don’t speak.
It feels good to be with Tibo and Aesop for this.
Even if it’s a stupid fucking thing to be doing.
But until Ford gets here, it’s up to us.
The ground is flat, and we walk in deep enough that we can still see the open field to our right. We march single file, Aesop in the lead, since he’s the one who actually has real-life experience with stuff like this.
After a little while he stops and puts his fist up.
I look off into the distance, but it’s more trees and forest and open space. He flattens his hand and lowers it, then folds to the ground. We follow suit, and he crawls forward. I follow behind. The canopy is thick enough to keep most of the rain off us, so the ground is wet but not saturated. Tibo struggles a little, dragging the empty shotgun along with him.
Aesop cuts a path to the right, going slow now. As we get closer to where the forest turns into open field, I can make out shapes. Then, trailers, and finally the full construction site. The tree line circles around a little, like a hook, bounding us in.
There are three trailers in total, all of them close to us. Over by the road, there’s a bulldozer and a backhoe, sitting quietly as they’re pelted by the rain. They’re dwarfed by something that looks like an oil rig, but I guess is for fracking. A giant erector set of steel, sticking a few stories into the air. It looks half-finished. There’s a crane next to it, and big neat piles of thick steel rods, and sheets of metal, and a cement mixer.
The place looks abandoned. But then someone comes around the trailer. Someone I haven’t seen before. Tall guy, broad shoulders, blond beard and dreadlocks wrapped in a rainbow bandana. He’s got a hunting rifle held tight to his chest. Given the way he’s dressed I peg him as a Soldier rather than a proper security guard.
There’s more movement around the tower. I tap Aesop and point. Trigger Warning Katie is hauling a propane tank, which she places at the base of the fracking thing.
We watch the sentry for a little bit. He’s walking a clear path. Once he makes his fourth circuit Aesop gets up without warning and runs to the trailer, staying low, waiting at the point where the sentry is going to pop into view next.
My heart slams in my chest. I fight to keep my breathing steady. I’ve seen some shit but I’ve never been in a situation like this before. Thank Christ for Aesop. He moves with complete confidence, like this is what he does all day.
With him on our side, I feel like we actually have a shot.
The sentry comes around the bend and Aesop moves so fast it’s hard to keep track. He grabs the rifle, jabs the barrel into the guy’s face. The sentry’s nose erupts and he goes down as Aesop waves us over. Tibo and I get up and follow, running to the spot where Aesop chose, out of view of the fracker and the windows of the trailers. Aesop has the guy on the ground, wrapping him up in the zip ties we took off Gideon, the rainbow bandana already shoved into his mouth.
Aesop presses his gun against the guy’s head.
“I’m going to take this out of your mouth and you’re going to tell me how many of you there are, and where you’re holding the security guards. Understand that you would not be the first person I’ve killed. So no fucking around on me, okay?”
Aesop pulls the bandana out. “Where are the guards?” he asks.
“Second trailer. The one next to this one.”
“You understand what’s going to happen if you lie to me?”
“Yes.”
“You understand that you’re a bunch of stupid fucking kids and I’m a Marine, correct?”
Pause. Then he nods. “Yes.”
“Good.”
Aesop shoves the bandana back in his mouth. We go to the edge of the trailer and peek around. There are now a couple of people at the fracker. Magda and another guest, a stocky, bald-headed guy in jean shorts and a tank top. I think he’s from Ohio but I don’t remember his name. They’ve each got propane tanks, which they’re loading around the base of the tower.
“Here’s the play…” Aesop says.
He’s cut off by the roar of an engine. For a second I’m thankful, thinking maybe it’s Ford come to the rescue. But it’s a ragged black pickup truck, no lights or sirens, and it comes to a stop next to the far trailer. Out climbs Marx. He’s annoyed, looking around like he expects to see something but doesn’t. He pulls out his phone, dials it, holds it to his head. Waits a minute and shoves it back in his pocket. Probably waiting for Gideon.
Marx pulls two gas cans out of the back and proceeds to the trailer with the hostages and pours gasoline around the base of it. There’s a gun tucked into the back of his pants.
“What now?” Tibo asks.
“We stall until Ford gets here.” Aesop turns to me. “You and Tibo, head over to the tower. I’ve got Marx.”
“Why do you get Marx?” I ask.
“I understand that we all want to kick his ass, but we can’t be greedy now.”
“Fine.”
Tibo and I wait until the coast is clear and Marx has turned completely away from us, and we take off at a run toward the fracking tower, dive for cover behind a pile of steel beams. We look over and Aesop is moving quietly behind Marx, who now has an unlit road flare in his hand.
I take the gun from Tibo.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks.
“I’m way more threatening than you are.”
“Fair point.”
We come out on the other side of the construction equipment. I don’t like holding the shotgun but I feel better about it not being loaded. It makes me miss the umbrella I used to carry. The steel rod with a Kevlar top. It felt far less aggressive. And it would be way more useful right now, given the rain.
We find Magda, in a green sundress and green shawl and green ceramic jewelry that clacks as she gestures to points around the derrick, instructing Katie and the other guest to place bags of fertilizer.
The sound of the rain covers the sound of our footsteps, so we get pretty close to them and they still haven’t noticed we’re here. I clack the shotgun, not that it makes a difference at this point, and they turn.
“Ash,” Magda says.
“That’s me.”
“What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“What’s going on?” Katie asks.
“Shut up,” I tell her, swinging the gun in her direction
. None of them seem to be armed, which is good. I nod to Tibo. “Tie them up.”
Tibo goes to each one of them in turn and zip ties their arms behind their backs, then says, “Get on the ground.” They follow his order, and he lashes their ankles together, too.
“You’re just tools of the fucking patriarchy,” Katie says. “You know that, right?”
“Don’t use words unless you know what they mean,” Tibo says. “If anything, we’re fascists.”
“You know we’re not actually fascists, right?” I ask him.
“You are fascists,” Katie says. “Defending a system that’s killing you. Do you know what this is going to do to the surrounding environment? You’re going to wake up one day and find the water at South Village isn’t drinkable. What then?”
Tibo pauses. Thinks that over. I can see the wheels turning. He shakes his head. “Doesn’t mean you kill innocent people.”
She smirks. “No one is innocent.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” I tell her, then turn to Tibo. “Now let’s check on Marx and Aesop.”
We book it back over to the trailer. We round into the clearing between them and find Aesop is on his knees, Marx holding a gun on him. Another guy, tall and lanky and balding, is holding a rifle on him. The sentry is here too, untied and back in the game. It’s raining hard now, getting in my eyes and mouth, turning the earth around us into giant pools of mud.
“Well, that went to shit quick,” I say, and point the shotgun at Marx.
He points the gun up at me. The sentry points his gun at me, too. The third guy, Lanky, keeps his gun trained on Aesop.
“Sorry, guys,” Aesop says, hands in the air, glancing down at the road, hoping for the same thing I am: That Ford will come tearing up here with backup.
“It’s fine,” I tell him “I’m not going to let you live this down, though. This fucking dickhead with his stupid fucking hat getting the drop on you.”
“My hat isn’t dumb,” Marx says.
“Yes it is,” I tell him. As I say this I inch closer to him, thinking maybe I’ll get close enough that I can swing the gun. Something. Anything. Because it’s not like I can shoot him. At least he doesn’t know that.
“You know the cops are on the way, right?” Tibo asks. “I called the sheriff.”
Lanky and Sentry look at each other, suddenly nervous.
“I’ll tell you what,” I say to the two of them. “If you get going now, you’ll have a head start. You might even get gone before they get here. Wouldn’t that be nice? Live to save a whale another day.”
Sentry shakes his head. “Fuck this. I’m done.”
He throws down his gun and runs for the trees.
Lanky grips his gun tighter and points it at me.
Well, I evened it up a little.
“What exactly do you think you’re going to accomplish?” Tibo asks. “You’re not going to change anyone’s minds. You’ll end up in prison if you’re lucky, and dead if you’re not, and the world will hate you. Nothing will change.”
“We have to try,” Marx says.
“So terrorism is the answer?” I ask.
“It’s not terrorism if it’s done for the right reasons.”
“You are so full of shit,” I tell him. “You and your fucking fantasy about your parents. The FBI knows all about you, and the lies you’ve told. It’s kind of pathetic.”
This makes Lanky pause and narrow his eyes. And it really pisses off Marx, to be found out.
“The only thing that matters is results,” he says, nearly spitting. “And we’re about to get some. We’ll sacrifice ourselves for the greater good if we have to.”
We stand there in the rain. Aesop on his knees, looking for an opening. Tibo behind me, with no idea what to do. Lanky with his gun on Aesop, Marx with his gun on me.
And my gun empty.
This whole thing sucks.
Then I get an idea. It’s a ridiculous idea, but that’s better than no idea.
“Oh hey look it’s the cops,” I say, looking at a blank point down the road, beyond Marx and Lanky.
The two of them turn to look.
Dummies.
Aesop follows my lead. He launches himself into Marx at the same time I dive forward and swing the shotgun like a bat, catching Lanky across the face. He goes cross-eyed and hits the mud. I pull the gun away from him as he falls. Tibo is on him quick with the zip ties. I turn to Aesop. The gun got thrown wide, and he and Marx are untangling from each other.
Marx and Aesop get standing across from each other, both of them covered in thick patches of mud. I slide in next to Aesop.
“I can’t believe that actually worked,” he says.
“Sometimes you have to keep it simple,” I tell him. “Now, should we shoot rock-paper-scissors on this?”
“Why don’t you take it,” he says.
“How generous.” I turn to Marx. “Before we start I need to know. Did you kill Cannabelle?”
“I had no choice.”
My body fills with rage like water rushing to fill an empty space. The image of Cannabelle lying on the ground comes back to me. Dead like dead doesn’t look in the movies. Sweet to me when she had no reason to be.
“There is always a choice,” I tell him.
He growls and comes at me fast. I move to the side and drive my fist into his stomach as hard as I can. He doubles over, hits his knees, falls on his hands. Pukes on the ground. I kick him in the stomach to flip him over, take a knee on the ground, and drive my fist into his face.
Seems he’s not as tough as he presented himself.
I’ve gone against sloppy drunks with more fight in them. But I shouldn’t have expected much from a pampered rich kid pretending to be a freedom fighter.
I reach my fist back, ready to hit him again.
Remember what happened the last time I let this feeling take over.
“There is always a choice,” I tell him.
I get up, turn him over, press his face into the mud. Tibo binds his hands. I step out to the road and see the vague form of a van coming our way.
“Finally, the fucking cavalry,” I say.
Aesop says, “I’m going to check and see what they did to the tower. You see about the hostages.”
He takes off at a run and I duck my head into the trailer, see a black guy and a white guy in gray uniforms, tied up to chairs and blindfolded, with heavy headphones stuck over their ears. The kind construction guys wear when they’re jackhammering. They don’t look to be in pain or distress. I’m about to go inside and free them when the sheriff’s van pulls up. Ford jumps out of the driver’s seat, gun in his hand, pointed at the ground. Corey climbs out of the passenger’s seat, cradling a shotgun.
“What the hell happened here?” Ford asks.
Aesop comes back up to us, leading the three people we tied up at the derrick, all of whom step underneath an awning of a trailer to get out of the rain.
“None of these fucking idiots know how to blow anything up,” Aesop says. “They stacked propane tanks and bags of fertilizer up and they were going to light it on fire. That’s not how bombs work. They didn’t even pick the right kind of fertilizer.”
“Will someone please explain to me what in the fresh fuck is going on?” Ford asks.
We take turns, each of us filling in parts of the story. The FBI raid. The Soldiers of Gaia. The plot to overthrow the camp. The stash of weapons and Cannabelle’s death.
No one says anything about Pete.
I think we’re going to chalk that up to being an accident.
Technically, it was.
When we get through it Ford nods, walks around the tied up folks.
“Really wish you kids had clued me into this sooner,” he says. “Y’all cut it a little close. Especially wish you told me about those FBI assholes. It’s nice to know when they’re fucking things up in my backyard.”
“Speaking of, why hasn’t the FBI stormed in here?” I ask.
“I didn’t call the
m,” Ford says.
“Why not?” Tibo asks.
“Because this is a win for the home team. I don’t want them taking the credit,” he says, gazing up at the fracking derrick. “You boys, come with me.”
“What about the guards?” I ask.
“If they’re safe then they can sit another minute or two.”
When we’re out of earshot of the Soldiers, he asks, “What are we going to do about this?”
“What do you mean?” Tibo asks.
“I mean these fucking things are bad news, son,” he says, nodding toward the derrick. “I don’t want my sink turned into a fucking flamethrower.”
“That’s a whole other battle,” Aesop says.
“Right,” Ford says, adjusting his cap against the rain. “What I’m saying is that the community is really upset about this. And they should be. There is a very good chance people are going to suffer because of this thing. It’d been better if it didn’t go up in the first place. Almost makes me feel bad. Like maybe if we didn’t arrive in time, they would have taken it down.”
“Not with the gear they were using,” Aesop says.
“Do you not get what I’m saying, son?” Ford asks, smiling. “How about I put it in terms you’ll understand.” He nods toward the pickup truck that Marx drove up in. “That car belongs to them? It’d do a fair bit of damage if it crashed into that. Set these assholes back real good. Best part is, no one gets hurt and the community comes out of it with their land intact. It’s too bad we didn’t get here in time to stop it. Right, Assistant Sheriff Corey?”
“Flame thrower sinks, you say?” Corey asks.
“Yes, son. That’s not the kind of thing I want to wake up to in the morning.” Ford looks at the derrick again. “Listen to me carefully, boys. There’s nothing around that monstrosity over there, nothing with your prints on it? Any people there?”
Aesop shakes his head.
“Good. Now, I’m glad we brought the van. I’m going to load these people into the back. We’re going to radio someone to meet us at the bottom of the road to pick us up. Since you say the guards aren’t in distress, we’ll just come back for them. What happens between now and then, I can’t right say. That thing was a flaming wreck when I got here. You catch me?”
