The End of the Beginning

by Eichholz, Zachary

“Mamedov is this true?” asked William, irritated.

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  “Why did you not clip in as instructed? You could have killed yourself.”

  “Yep,” said Samir carelessly.

  “If this injury is bad enough, it could put you out for weeks. That’s time we do not have to spare. This could jeopardize your chance of graduating from training.”

  “Good,” Samir said softly.

  William just shook his head. He couldn’t get through to this rescue officer. “Miller. Lawal. Please take Rescue Officer Mamedov to the medical tent.”

  William looked beyond the Blazer and saw Hammond staring. Suddenly Samir slapped William’s chest with an enclosed fist. It startled William.

  “Take it,” whispered Samir, desperation in his voice, fright in his eyes. “Do not open it till you are alone.”

  William reached up and took a small piece of paper from Samir’s hand. He looked around with a glance, not understanding the quick change in attitude.

  “Okay, come on Mamedov. We’ll help you get fixed up,” said Rescue Officer Amanda Miller politely, stepping up into the bed of the Blazer with Rescue Officer Abeo Lawal. Both they and the medic didn’t seem to notice the exchange.

  William took the piece of paper and shoved it into his left pocket, crumpling it as he did. When he looked back over to where Hammond was, she had gone. Samir was lifted off the bed and taken over the shoulders of the two rescue officers and brought to the small medical tent.

  William just watched Samir as he disappeared into the tent, confused. He had never seen fear like that on a man’s face before, not even during the war.

  CHAPTER 35: A Plea for Him

  As the sun lowered in the twilight sky, William became ever more familiar with all of his squadron members, shaking their hands, giving high fives, pats on the back. It hurt to smile at the end of the day's session, but it was a pain worth feeling. Solar powered lights overhead, the course dark in the trees behind them, William offered his final words of the day to his team in the Yard.

  “Good job, everyone.” Some of them clapped once or twice, others bobbed their heads smiling, some knelt on one knee. “I know it was tough, dirty, and you want to get outta here ’cause I smell so bad.” Everyone chuckled. “But we all did it and we’ll all do it again on Wednesday. When that day comes, we’ll do it even better and push away from the pack, showing everyone what SAR Squadron 3 can do.”

  “Yeah!” yelled Mckay.

  “All day, every day,” said Sergeant Paul Macom, raising a fist.

  “Bossman,” shouted Rescue Officer Simba Mambiri, “and new friends. When is this dinner thing happening? Are we eating dinner? First team dinner, yeah?”

  “We can do that,” smiled William. “I assumed you guys might want to just sleep but we can do food. Let’s put it to a vote. Sleep or food?”

  “Food,” team unanimously yelled.

  And with that, they jogged back to the garage, showered, changed, and all agreed to meet at the nearest dining hall in one hour. Before leaving the training center on a rental bike, William was stopped by someone. They shouted over to him. It was one of his squadron members, Rescue Officer Sergey Mamedov, brother of Samir Mamedov.

  “Captain, Captain, please wait, please!”

  William stopped his bike. “Oh, ahhh, Rescue Officer Mamedov… right?”

  “Yes, sir. Sorry for stopping you.”

  “That's alright, Rescue Officer, what is it?”

  “May we talk, Captain,” said the shy rescue officer.

  “Always, you know that. What is it?”

  William knew what this was going to be about. The rescue officer was sheepish and did not look at William when he talked. His hands were behind his back and words were spoken in a deep Russian accent. He was just a kid at twenty years old.

  “Well, sir, as you know by now I am brother of Samir Mamedov who is also in this squadron.”

  Yep, just as he thought.

  “My brother, sir, I know he can be difficult to command; he was never good at listening when growing up. He does not wish to be here but we have no other choice. We were orphaned when our parents died.”

  William signed sadly. “I’m so sorry Mamedov.”

  Sergey put his chin down into his chest. “We had nowhere to go so we came to UNIRO to build some kind of life for ourselves. Our parents, before they died, had always wanted us to go to UNIRO. Just before they died they used their last breaths to beg us to find our way here. After their death though, Samir shutdown and has never been the same. I feel him spraining his ankle today was on purpose, trying to be sent home for injury. He does not want to be here. He is an angry, stubborn person…”

  William sighed and put his hands on the handlebars. He then remembered the crumpled piece of paper Samir had given to him. And, the flash of fear on his face. William had yet to look at the paper.

  “How did your parents die,” asked William.

  “Terrorist attack sir, in St. Petersburg three years ago.”

  “I sorta know how you feel Mamedov. I never knew my parents. It sucks.”

  “But it is no excuse for his behavior, sir. Please don't take offense, he is difficult with everyone, even myself sometimes. I can never get through to him. I have tried to talk to him about all this, but it's no use. I will again but the same will come of it. Perhaps you can talk with him, yes? To keep him here, to stay, to see what we are doing here is not a waste?”

  William was going to talk to him regardless. He needed to know why he had acted so strangely in the bed of the Blazer. But, William thought it best not to involve Sergey in his brother’s struggles. He needed everyone he could on his team in the clear.

  “Don’t worry, I will talk to him. Maybe once he gets through training he will come around. Sometimes people need to get their feet wet before they go all the way in.”

  “Feet wet, sir?” asked Sergey, confused at the expression.

  “Never mind. I will talk to him.”

  “Thank you, sir. He has been here over a month now though and he still has not shown interest at all.”

  “I have been here for about month now too. I was hesitant in the beginning as well. I didn't know if I wanted all this either. But I see what it all means to the world. Samir will come around. Together we can help, okay?”

  “Yes, sir, thank you sir. He’s all I have left. Goodnight, sir,” Sergey said, nodding with each saying of sir.

  “Goodnight.”

  Waiting till Sergey was out of sight, William plunged his hand into his pocket. The piece of slightly damp, crumpled paper was still there. He looked over his shoulder one more time. No one was around. The sun was almost gone, the training center dark, and the air still. William almost felt a kind of eeriness being alone.

  He opened the tiny piece of paper. The ink writing on it was a little smudged from his sweat but the writing on it was still clearly legible, and disturbing. William whispered allowed what it said.

  “Thou art amongst traitors.”

  CHAPTER 36: Politics Over Dinner

  William biked over to the nearest dining hall, his mind drenched in thought. He wrestled to understand the meaning behind the crumpled piece of paper. Who were these traitors? Did they even exist? Could Samir just be playing some sick joke to get himself thrown out of UNIRO? Sergey did say he really didn’t want to be here…

  Darker thoughts soon found their way in though. Traitors...

  “Suspicion is beginning to grow among some in UNIRO. I can only hold off those suspicions for so long. I need more information from you so I can finish this…”

  Hammond. The warehouse conversation…

  Toronto. She said the name Toronto, before the attack happened. She knew. She knew it was going to happen. She knew Terra Nova was going to commit the atrocity. She knew and didn’t say anything. Traitor…

  “Captain!”

  William realized he was staring across his team’s table. They were all looking at him. Mario
had been the one that called him.

  “Sir?” said the Italian.

  William put down his cookie. “Hmm. Oh, yeah, sorry, Niccolo, sorry. You caught me daydreaming. Did you ask me something?”

  Rescue Officer Mario Niccolo very much enjoyed the little things about life and was most happy in the Italian hillsides where he had grown up. William found the man’s excitement for the day’s simple pleasures, like that of John’s, made him a person you just wanted to be around.

  “I asked what made you join UNIRO, sir,” Niccolo smiled.

  “Oh. Well, the job opportunity kind of just rolled up to my porch one day. Don't worry about me though. Ask someone else. I want to hear your stories,” William said. He looked across the table. “Uh, hey, ah… Rescue Officer Mambiri, why’d you join?”

  “Dahhh, noooo, Bossman, nooo. No fair. We have all already told our stories of devotion to UNIRO, except you. I proudly told my story while you were busy studying your cookies. Now come on!” wailed Rescue Officer Simba Mambiri who only seemed to call William by the name of boss. No matter what he was told to say all that came out was a big booming “Boss” from his dark lips. “Ah come on, Boss, tell us, before our first real rescue, yeah.”

  “Yeah, what made you join, sir?” asked Rescue Officer Heather Philips, the teams designated medic.

  “Fine. Fine,” William said, raising his hands in relent. He thought for a moment, ridding his head of Hammond and Samir for the good of the moment. He dared not say to his team the condition he was in when he was found, barrel to his mouth. He didn’t want his reason to join UNIRO being only to escape suicide. “Umm, I joined to ensure that a difference in the world wasn’t only attempted, but ensured.”

  Everyone gently bobbed their heads.

  “Deep Boss, deep,” said Simba.

  “That was better than what Fortin said,” snorted Amanda.

  “What was wrong with my answer?” asked French Rescue Officer Gaspard Fortin. “My answer was genuine poetry, Miller.”

  “Poetry?” huffed Amanda. “I call that desperation.”

  “What did you say, Fortin?” asked William, grinning.

  Gaspard opened his mouth to answer but Amanda spoke for him. “He said he joined UNIRO to find a lover on some romantic rescue mission, get married, have four kids, and then retire after being base commander for a few years.”

  Vinny toasted a glass. “Good luck with that, Fortin.”

  “I dream big,” said Gaspard. “We are supposed to dream big here.”

  “Fortin,” snapped Amanda, “we are here for a higher purpose. We are here to fight climate change and rescue people, not be leaders of universe.”

  “Oohhh, my God please, no more talk of climate change and global warming. I’ve had enough of it!” said Gaspard, rolling his head. “Just doom and gloom these last few weeks in class. Doom and gloom. No ice. No polar bears. No more coffee. No more meat.”

  “I feel you on that last one, Fortin,” said Vinny, sighing.

  “Agreed,” said William.

  “Hey, it's important to talk about, Fortin! Not talking about it got us our jobs,” reminded Amanda. She hated when people saw climate change as nothing to think about. She was twenty-four and had just finished a meteorology degree. She loved weather and climate. Growing up in the Great Plains, she often storm chased instead of attending school parties, social gatherings, and dates.

  “And look, it’s gotten all of us happily employed,” Gaspard said sarcastically. “Thank you, sins of man. Our job security is fantastic and will be for quite a while.”

  “Come on, you know it’s a problem or else you wouldn't be here,” contested Amanda.

  “Hey,” responded Gaspard, “you don't have to tell me, weather woman. My country actually follows its emissions targets unlike someone's. Didn’t America back out of the Paris Agreement?”

  “Listen, sensible US leadership on climate change policies took a little break there for four years. But we’re back now. It was only because of that Cheeto, Mr. - ”

  “My country has a carbon tax on emissions from all the bad stuff, which goes into funding for renewable energy installations,” bragged Gaspard. “We also banned fracking over fifteen years ago, something your country hasn't even begun to think about. It's all your politicians, divided and squabbling about who is right, who is wrong, who is more American, who is more pro-business, who is more conservative. God forbid one says they would like to save a few molecules of carbon from reaching the atmosphere or save a few trees they are criminalized as socialist, anti-capitalist, or communist. Whatever happened to just wanting to do the right thing? ”

  “Look, you’re right,” conceded Amanda. “Our troubles totally stem from political gridlock, especially with the only known national political party that doesn’t except the science of human induced climate change. You don't know how frustrating it made me growing up. And now, when I see politicians giving false information on science trying to uphold their own interest and their money it just infuriates me, knowing how wrong they are. It's dangerous and freaking ridiculous. It was a slap in the face to my entire degree, all 50,000 dollars of it…”

  Amanda widened her eyes and shook her hands next to her face.

  “They use pseudoscience, word plays and one-liners to beat down the scientist that have worked for years to develop their theories and findings; only to be broken by a, by a, by a single news headline. It’s disgusting. Our money goes from science and education to meaningless defense projects and fossil fuel subsidies.”

  Her fork shot up, its spokes pointing across the table.

  “Why the hell do we still fund nukes, someone please tell me that, especially after Korea?”

  Amanda lowered the fork slowly and smiled with embarrassment for her outburst. She was a passionate person.

  “Sorry,” she said quietly, “I digress. Science has been polarized in America; a subject for debate, not truth as it should be. Red, white, and blue don't make green when mixed together I’m afraid.”

  “Well,” said Vinny, “I think the tree hugger award goes to Miller hands down, eh?”

  “Proud of it,” Amanda huffed. “America isn’t the biggest problem though. You two are,” she said, pointing to Vinny and Rescue Officer Dao Jinping.

  “Us two? What's wrong with us two?” asked Vinny, a short diehard Canucks fan and former firefighter from Vancouver, British Columbia that had moved to Florida some years earlier to look after his elderly parents.

  “Yeah, you two. Your two countries pollute like farting cows on laxatives.”

  The table laughed.

  “Eh, name calling much,” said Vinny, looking playfully hurt. “I’ll have you know that British Columbia is the greatest providence there is when it comes to being environmentally friendly. The mountains outside Vancouver heal any sickness with one breath. Guaranteed.”

  “One breath, huh?” chuckled Heather. “Maybe we can bottle some and sell it.”

  “Umm, what about the Northern Gateway Pipeline, heard of that?” Amanda barked.

  “That was canceled,” interjected Gaspard. “Trudeau put a ban on all tanker traffic in British Columbia Basically killed it.”

  “Hot and smart,” smiled Heather.

  “Yeah! Ha!” Vinny said. “What now, Miller?” ”

  Amanda threw herself back in her chair. “Two words. Tar. Sands.”

  “My government looks after the singlehandedly most beautiful piece of territory in the world. I don't care what anyone says about that. We keep it as clean as a proper ax blade. You can get high off the smell of pine. The beauty instilled in me a love for the environment. I mean, look at me now; I fight for little cute pandas and birds!”

  Simba laughed. “Mckay, the only thing you fight for are goals because your hockey team sucks. I looked up their record. Football, man, that's what you should be rooting for, not this hockey. Just oversized figure skaters man. Football has real goals with real balls, not tiny rubber hamburgers. It's too warm anyways to
play it now I hear.”

  “For the hundredth time, they made the playoffs last year, Mambiri! They are called pucks, not hamburgers. And they play indoors, where it's never warm!”

  “I played hockey once when I was five,” reminisced Paul. “I broke my two front teeth on the first play. Never did it again. I switched to badminton instead.”

  Dao offered his calculated thinking as he pushed his green peas away from his steamed carrots. They could not be touching. “Your countries do not see a problem and therefore in their minds there is no problem. The Chinese do. My government now looks at the environment as an economic necessity that needs to be kept in balance. Extortion and neglect of our environment has ruined areas of my country. Smog still troubles my home in Guangdong. One only realizes they are breathing when they can no longer breathe.”

  “Man,” said Vinny, “people at this table know how to get deep. How come I can’t do that?”

  Amanda raised her eyebrows at him.

  Vinny pointed his knife. “Don’t answer that.”

  “Well that's why we got those air sucker things heading out there soon to help with that next month,” noted Mario. “Should start to help.”

  “What do you mean our countries don't see it? We see the problems everywhere,” retaliated Amanda.

  “Yes, but to varying degrees. The effects of climate change in America and Canada and even Europe still do not compare to that in smaller, less developed nations. Some countries may even theoretically benefit from such changes. Russia is an excellent example. Because of Arctic sea ice loss, shipping can use the Northeast Passage to cut down on travel time and allows for more oil reserves to be accessed. It makes perfect sense for such a petro-state, run by oligarchs, to invoke a strategy of hidden political denial.”

  Dao took a sip of tea.

  “You know, people are bad at not believing what they do not see, especially over the long term. China turned around so quickly because people could see and feel the consequences. Our air and water are troubled. Island nations in the Pacific, places in Africa, South America, and the Middle East all face worsening effects faster then you are which makes them act quicker. People don't like being uncomfortable for very long, so they change, but only when they have to, not when they want to.”