by Philip Roy
CHARLIE: “What’s that?”
ME: “It looks like a blanket.”
SAMI: “I don’t think it’s a blanket; I think it’s an animal.”
When we get closer, we see that it is a dog.
CHARLIE: “Is it still alive?”
SAMI: “Nope.”
CHARLIE: “Can we resuscitate it?”
SAMI: “Nope.”
CHARLIE: “Maybe we should try.”
ME: “It’s dead, Charlie. It drowned.”
CHARLIE: “Maybe it’s not dead. Maybe it’s just sleeping because it’s exhausted.”
Sami nudges the dog’s head with his foot.
SAMI: “It’s dead.”
ME: “We should bury it.”
CHARLIE: “Maybe we should take it to the vet and see what they think.”
SAMI: “Charlie, it’s dead.”
Sami nudges its head again, a little harder.
CHARLIE: “Don’t hurt it!”
ME: “We can’t hurt it if it’s already dead, Charlie. We should bury it.”
SAMI: “Where?”
ME: “I don’t know. Maybe over behind the flagpole.”
SAMI: “What will the First Nations people think if we bury a dog on their ancient burial site?”
ME: “I don’t know. We don’t have to tell them.”
CHARLIE: “I think we should take it to the vet.”
ME: “Charlie …”
CHARLIE: “What?”
ME: “Never mind. I’ll get the shovel.”
So we dig a hole behind the flagpole, drag the old dog across the ground, and lay it in the hole. Charlie stares at it the whole time, waiting for it to wake up, but it never does. Then we fill in the hole with dirt and stamp down the top.
SAMI: “Everyone will know we buried something here.”
ME: “Nobody will ever know, and if they do, we’ll just tell them it’s compost, ’cause it sort of is.”
CHARLIE: “We should tell them the truth. What if somebody’s looking for their dog?”
ME: “Oh, yeah. Okay, I guess we’d better tell them the truth.”
CHARLIE: “The First Nations people won’t mind because they love animals.”
ME: “That’s true.”
SAMI: “Besides, if people discover that we buried a dog without ever telling anybody about it, they might think that we killed it and are trying to hide the evidence.”
ME: “What? Nobody will think that; that’s crazy!”
SAMI: “They might.”
I stare at Sami and Charlie, and we look down. We have dirt on our hands. I look over at the trough we made by dragging the dog across the sand. Then I turn the other way and see three homeless people standing and watching us. They have seen the whole thing. They drop their heads, turn around, and walk silently back to their tents. Suddenly the winds pick up. I have the strongest feeling that this day is going to run out of control.
The Briffin Bach Society comes early. They’re nervous about having enough space for the children’s choir, even though we promised them they could have the space beneath the large tarp. They start crossing the river with umbrellas and chairs, but the wind begins to gust just when they are halfway across, and their umbrellas open and pull them down the river. One lady’s dress blows up over her head, and the wind knocks her over, so that her friends have to rescue her from drowning. Then the wind grabs at their chairs, and most of them turn back to the other shore and just stand and wait for the wind to die down. A little while later they try again, this time succeeding in making the crossing.
The wind howls and wails. It comes in large sudden gusts, and then settles down. It seems that every time anyone wants to do anything, it rises up and tries to blow them down. By the middle of the morning it has blown away three of the homeless tents, and sent their inhabitants into the river to retrieve them. They manage to save only two.
In the afternoon, the film crew arrives. There are hundreds of people in the kingdom now, mostly regular visitors, and a few tourists. People struggle to keep their barbeques under control. Everyone talks about the rain that hasn’t yet come.
The film crew is from the CBC. Elizabeth is with them. They have come before but have returned because they know this is our last day of immunity. They want to check in with us. So we take our seats in the Council, stare into the cameras, and answer their questions as best we can. It’s a strange feeling knowing that our interview will play in homes all across the country, although they never play the whole thing, just parts of it, and you never know which parts they will play. Sami always gets the most attention because he’s the most photogenic. He has movie-star quality.
CBC: “We are happy to visit you boys once again on your river island kingdom. It’s quite a blustery day. Did you boys ever think your kingdom would last this long? You’ve been here what, almost two months now?”
SAMI: “Almost. We knew we would last this long but we never knew we’d get so much attention.”
CHARLIE: “Everyone loves us.”
CBC: “You have had performances in your kingdom all summer long, and I see the Briffin Bach Society and children’s choir setting up right behind us as we speak. Did you ever dream this land would become so popular?”
ME: “No.”
CBC: “How do you account for your success?”
SAMI: “Our message of tolerance and equality for everyone.”
CBC: “It is an inspiring message, and we have to agree it works because you have brought thousands of people over to your kingdom, even visitors from other countries, and yet, so far there has been no injury, no hostility, and no violence.”
CHARLIE: “We buried a dead dog this morning.”
The interviewer smiles awkwardly and ignores Charlie’s comment.
CBC: “What about tomorrow? Tomorrow the police will come, and they will have the legal right to remove you from this piece of land. If they do, will you go peacefully?”
Charlie shakes his head.
CHARLIE: “This is our country. They have no right.”
SAMI: “We will practise non-violent resistance, like Gandhi.”
CBC: “You will let them arrest you?”
SAMI: “Yes.”
CBC: “And the others who follow you here; if they intend to come tomorrow, will you advise them to stay away?”
ME: “No. They can do whatever they like. That’s what the Kingdom of No Worries is all about; people can do whatever they like.”
CBC: “But if those people should clash with the police, will you take responsibility for that, being the leaders of this kingdom?”
I have no idea how to answer that. Luckily, Sami does.
SAMI: “Let’s wait and see what happens tomorrow.”
CBC: “But you won’t leave?”
SAMI & CHARLIE & ME: “No.”
CBC: “And you’re willing to go to jail?”
SAMI & CHARLIE: “Yes.”
I’m still not sure about that.
CBC: “What advice would you have for other people who might like to follow your example and declare their own country within an existing country?”
ME: “Be welcoming to everyone, and people will respect you.”
SAMI: “Don’t think nationally; think globally.”
CHARLIE: “Follow your dreams.”
Chapter 17
WE GO HOME in the darkness, in the middle of a dry thunderstorm. The wind keeps circling the city, bringing the thunderstorm in, and sucking it out, but never really taking it away. It thunders for most of the night, very slowly drifting away as the wind grows weaker and weaker until by morning it is gone. What is left in its place is sticky air, suffocating heat, and an indescribable energy that is uncomfortable. Everyone wishes it would just rain.
For the first time, my mom says she thinks I should stay home; she doesn’t have a good feeling about this day at all. Dad looks the same but doesn’t say anything; he just wishes me luck. Merilee is busy drawing up a contract for the bridge builder. She has
printed out hundreds of cards for people to write their names on. You can even have your name inscribed on a special metal plate on the floor for fifty dollars if you want, but she hasn’t sold any of those yet. Merilee’s own take on the bridge project is ten percent. She asked the Council for that, and we agreed.
I walk to the kingdom slowly this day. There’s a pop can on the sidewalk, and I kick it all the way to the end of the block before putting it in the recycling. For the first time, I’m not in a hurry to get to the Council. I’m kind of hoping it will rain so hard that everyone will stay home. I feel a lot of anxiety about the police. Sami and Charlie seem to want to go to jail. I don’t. If you go to jail when you are just twelve years old, what kind of life will you have?
When I come down the hill, I see that my fears are correct. The police are already here. They haven’t come to the island yet, but you can see their cars and vans parked in the middle of the streets that come down to the river. Sami and Charlie are in the kingdom already, sitting in Council. My seat is bare. They must be wondering where I am, so I hurry across the river and join them.
There are a few dozen people in the kingdom, besides the homeless ones who are sleeping in their tents. People are in the garden tending the plants and flowers as if they are in their own backyards. They aren’t paying any attention to the police; maybe they haven’t even seen them. I have a sickening feeling in my stomach that just won’t go away.
CHARLIE: “Where have you been, Billie-Jean?”
SAMI: “We were starting to wonder if you weren’t coming.”
ME: “Sorry, guys, I’m just kind of slow today. That was quite a storm last night, eh?”
SAMI: “It struck a tree in our neighbourhood.”
CHARLIE: “It struck a tree in our neighbourhood, too.”
ME: “Did you guys see the police vans?”
SAMI: “Yeah.”
CHARLIE: “I hope they arrest us.”
ME: “What? That’s crazy, Charlie. We don’t want to get arrested.”
CHARLIE: “Yes, we do. That’d be cool. They’d put us in jail and everything.”
ME: “Charlie, we don’t want to go to jail.”
CHARLIE: “Yes, we do.”
ME: “No, we don’t. That’s a stupid idea. Don’t you know that all the worst people are in jail? If we go there we’ll probably get beaten up and maybe even killed.”
CHARLIE: “No, we won’t. Everybody loves us.”
ME: “Charlie, the people in jail don’t even know who we are and wouldn’t care if they did.”
CHARLIE: “Yes, they do. They have TV in jail, you know, and comfortable sofas and good food. You probably even get your own computer.”
ME: “Charlie, I don’t think you really understand what jail is.”
SAMI: “I think the guys in jail will probably like us because we were arrested, too, and so we’re kind of on the same side.”
ME: “I don’t want to be on the side of criminals.”
CHARLIE: “We’re not criminals; we’re heroes.”
ME: “We’re not heroes; we’re just kids.”
Sami stands up and looks around 360 degrees. I watch him watch the people in the garden, the homeless community, and the stray dogs that have made the kingdom their home and are sleeping at the base of the flagpole.
SAMI: “I don’t know, I think we’re kind of heroes.”
There’s a trickle of people crossing the river now. I’m surprised. I didn’t think anybody would come today. Who wants to get caught in the middle of a fight with the police?
As it turns out: a lot of people.
I don’t know why the police don’t come over right away and tell us to leave before everyone arrives. Wouldn’t it be easier to clear the island when there are just a few dozen people on it? Won’t it be much harder trying to move thousands? I don’t understand that. I don’t understand anything.
The morning drags on hot and sticky. It’s so muggy the advertisements on the toilets are peeling off. My skin is clammy and I’m constantly wiping my face. It doesn’t seem to bother the people in the garden. I have come to realize that gardeners live in their own world. Finally, by noon, the rain begins to fall.
At first it’s a soft rain. It falls lightly, like mist, but has the feel of rain that is here to stay. It’s hot out, so people don’t mind getting wet. But the air is tense, as if it’s just waiting for something big to happen, and yet people keep coming.
By the middle of the afternoon, everyone and everything is soaking wet, except for the things that are underneath tarps, but even those are damp. The kingdom is filled to the brim with people, and the sound of drums mixes with the sound of the rain on the tarps and the ground. Barbeques are sizzling and people are shaking out their clothes, and still everyone is happy. But the police have moved their vans closer to the river. They have blocked off parts of the streets. We watch them do that, as if they are preparing for a parade. They do everything slowly, and I keep wondering what they are waiting for.
News vans have also arrived on the riverbanks. Little radars spin around on their tops. The news people start trickling across the river with their umbrellas, chairs, and cameras. They, too, look like they’re setting up for a parade. I don’t understand why nobody seems afraid of what’s coming.
The rain falls harder. People who have been wringing out their clothes stop wringing them and just accept being soaked. I see a couple of the homeless get up and move their tents further from the water’s edge, and then I realize something: the river is rising. I look over at the police. They have dogs and horses now but are still biding their time. What are they waiting for?
Without warning, there is a crack of thunder in the sky. It is so loud, so sharp, and so close it scares the heck out of everyone. The clouds turn black. A storm has arrived.
The rain falls faster. The sky is so dark now we can hardly see the riverbanks. We can’t tell what the police are up to. But we can see the lights of their cars flashing. Is that because they are about to invade us, or is it just to warn everyone to be careful of the storm? I don’t know.
All along I have been unsure what role the police are playing. Are they here to remove us or simply to protect us? I think they’re going to remove us, because that’s what they said they would do.
The rain is now just a wall of water, like a tidal wave. I have never seen rain like this before. In the kingdom, everyone is trying to squeeze together under the tarps, but there are too many people and too little space. I can’t see our homeless community anymore, but I see a dark figure come to the centre of the island, dragging a tent behind him.
The river is rising fast. How far will it rise before it stops? A few people are making their way off the kingdom now but most are staying. And then, finally, we hear the police over a megaphone.
“Leave the island now! You are not safe! Leave the island now!”
They say this over and over, but no one obeys.
“Leave now,” the message repeats, “or you will be forcibly evacuated.”
Now they are warning us, but still no one leaves. For another hour or so nothing happens. The rain just pounds the island and river. It knocks down all the tarps and flattens the flowers. We can hardly see outside of the kingdom, but I do see the silhouettes of riders on horses at the river’s edge. Then we hear another voice on the megaphone, a frantic voice calling my name. It’s my mom.
“Billy! Billy! You must cooperate with the police! The river is too dangerous now! Come home, Billy!” Her voice comes and goes through the rain, but I can tell that she is upset. Then I see a man crossing the river the way we always come, and I recognize him, too. It’s my dad. He’s in his shorts, the ones he wears around the house, which tells me that Mom has worried him enough to leave without getting properly dressed. He’s standing in the river up to his chest, staring at the sky. He’s struggling against the current, because it’s flowing much faster than before. It doesn’t even look like the same river. The police come over the megaphone
again, ordering us off the island more urgently.
But there is another sound. A chant. At first, it starts out small, like the sound of the wind. Then it grows into a thunderous sound. It is the people in the kingdom and on the other shore—thousands of voices raised together. “We won’t leave! We won’t leave! We won’t leave!” Sami and Charlie chant, too, and wave their fists in the air.
The police collect into a tight group. They raise shields, turn, and move towards the crowd on the bank. The crowd turns and moves towards the police. A shiver runs up my spine. A riot is about to begin.
Chapter 18
EVERYTHING HAPPENS so quickly. After watching things move in slow motion for so long, what happens next is hard to follow. First, part of the crowd on the kingdom enters the river to join the crowd on the other riverbank, to confront the police. Police horses enter the water to cut them off, but the river is too high, and the horses have to turn back. I glance at the borders of the kingdom and see them shrinking fast! Water is only metres from the flagpole. Our garden will soon be flooded. But the very worst thing happens next. The crowd that has stepped into the river from the kingdom gets caught in the current and is being swept away.
Within minutes we go from a threatening confrontation with police to a life-threatening disaster. I hear screaming in the river. It’s horrible. The words of the CBC interviewer run through my head: “Will you take responsibility for the people?”
How can we take responsibility? How can we do anything? I look over at Charlie.
ME: “Sami! We’ve got to carry Charlie off!”
CHARLIE: “No! I’m staying!”
ME: “Charlie! You can’t swim. You’ll drown.”
CHARLIE: “I don’t care! I’m not leaving the kingdom.”
ME: “Sami. We’ve got to take him off.”
But Sami just stands and stares. He can’t believe what is happening.
ME: “Sami! Snap out of it! We’ve got to rescue Charlie!”
Obediently, Sami grabs Charlie and picks him up.
CHARLIE: “Put me down! I’m not leaving!”
He wriggles out of Sami’s arms and runs away. I turn around and see people running into the water everywhere, getting caught in the current and swept away. It is a nightmare.
