Book 1
The Tale Cooper Redwing
The History of the Pacific Northwest
From "A History of the 21st Century", by Zithembe Nkosi
Published by ZuluHeart Press, copyright 2120
The roots of the Coast Mountain range that acts as a border for the Democratic Republic of Oregon rest one hundred million years in the past, in the Late Cretaceous period. It was then that the land began to awaken and volcanoes began to form. The great tectonic plates of the Pacific ocean began to press against North America. As the great Kula and Farallon plates pushed beneath the continental plates, the edge of the continental shelf was pushed upwards forming the great Coast Mountain arc of what would eventually be Western North America.
It was this great natural barrier, combined with the protection and trade advantages offered by the Pacific Ocean that allowed the Democratic Republic of Oregon to form in the years after the Great Collapse, and those same natural wonders that allowed the DRO to survive the War of the Oil Barons, which pitted the early Oil Baronies- still rich in energy and technology against the all out lying areas with arable land. It was the Coast Mountains that afforded the DRO geographic protection necessary for them to leverage their position as the primary trading partners with the surviving Asian nations.
As time passed, and the multi-racial population of the DRO began to merge beliefs, nobody was surprised when the Coast Mountains themselves were named as a Kami- or great nature spirits- by the Unified Church of Healing which emerged as the standard religion of the region.
Respect for the Coast Mountains is found everywhere today in the culture of the DRO. Most politicians begin their speeches by giving thanks to the mountains and the sea- generally in that order. Even in Victoria, the infamously independent 'free port', visitors can see great wall murals of the Coast Mountain Range.
The Mountains serve as a diplomatic zone today as well. All Meetings with the Republic of Northern Territories or the Oil Baronies are held at Council Pass, the site of the Pre-Collapse toll both on the Coquihalla Highway, rebuilt in 2089.
Any storyteller speaking of the DRO would find it very hard to tell their story without paying their respects in story to the Mountains that are the father and the protector to the six or so million people who live within DRO territory.
The DRO was founded in 2040- fourteen years after the collapse of most North American Nations- when the more powerful villages and surviving cities in the region banded together for mutual benefit and protection. The Democratic Republic of Oregon was designed to maintain the independence that many of the communities had developed during the intervening years since the collapse. The Republic still operates as a collection of communities, some cities, some farming collectives, some villages, some large ranches, each with a representative from the community and a single vote- and decisions have to pass with an eighty percent majority. Larger communities have no extra weight, but the Republic itself only has the right to convene on matters of collective defense. Everything else is decided at the local level. The capital of the DRO is the walled city of Astoria, in what was originally Oregon state.
Astoria was a town of about ten thousand people when the collapse occurred. A local resident and librarian, Virginia Marshall, managed to convince the city to begin preparing for a large scale governmental collapse when the oil markets fell apart in 2020 after the fall of the Saudi Arabian royal family. by 2026, the town had food reserves, an official militia, independent partial electrical supply and was far better prepared for the chaos that ensued than most cities. When the United States Government did collapse, the town elected to build a medieval style wall around the town as defense against the already burgeoning bandit population. Astoria is now a prosperous city state of nearly forty-five thousand people.
Astoria built their reputation by sending help to other communities. The didn't send food (they didn't have extra), but rather education and training. They helped communities rebuild infrastructure. They trained teachers and nurses and medics and farmers. They set up a system of alerts to warn neighboring cities of bandit armies or hordes of looters. It was from this start that the seed of what would become the Democratic Republic of Oregon grew within the confines of the Pacific Northwest.
DRO is, in essence, a large assortment of strangers who have agreed to circle the wagons against outside threats. But inside threats exist as well. Not everyone who lives within the territory claimed by the DRO is under DRO protection or control. The Squamish Nation has lived on the land that lies between The Vancouver City State and Whistler County for as long as anyone can remember. They made agreements with the DRO, and tolled DRO citizens when they passed through Squamish territory, but they have always maintained their diplomatic distance. Likewise, to the north, the island of Haida Gwaii (the Queen Charlotte Islands) is once again an independent nation- who occasionally raids the coast line as they did hundreds of years ago. To most people living in the Northern half of the DRO, the Haida are the bogeymen and the stuff of nightmares.
Seattle is also not associated with the DRO. Seattle was built on a swamp, and during the great collapse an earthquake decimated the city's foundations. The once prosperous city suffered the fate of many large cities- abandonment. In the years following its abandonment, Seattle was claimed by a warlord calling herself Lilith. Leading a horde she called "The Demon Children", Lilith lined the city with corpses on spears and practiced human sacrifice. In the chaos between the initial collapse and the rebuilding that began near the end of the century, Seattle was a place other community leaders simply didn't have he resources to deal with appropriately. By the time leaders were willing to turn their eyes towards 'the Demon City', Lilith and her group had become well entrenched both militarily and culturally. Lilith, it seemed, was quite a leader beneath her ghoulish exterior. And so Seattle- The Demon City- was denied a seat in the DRO council. The City sits like a tumor near the geographic center of the DRO and is the elephant in the room that few council members like to mention at meetings.
Another ongoing problem for the DRO is the ongoing blood feud between DRO member: Fort Winter Wolf, and the non-DRO member: The Redwing Tribe. The feud has been going since before Fort Winter Wolf was even a DRO member, more than fifty years. There is no love lost between the two sides, particularly amongst the leaders. Whatever the cause of the feud was, neither side was sharing with outsiders. But both sides were certainly enlisting the aid of outsiders. Fort Winter Wolf has expanded its influence in the DRO council by forming an unofficial alliance with nearby members to create an unofficial voting block. Other members have whispered that Fort Winter Wolf actually conquered these members covertly, but nothing has ever been proven. The Redwing Tribe was one of the founding members of a group that called themselves the Great Alliance. Including many of the first nations groups and other groups that had embraced a less technological solution to the collapse, the Great Alliance is hard to find, and harder to talk to- but its members run as far east as the Rocky Mountains- outside even the control of the DRO. Some sources claim that Fort Winter Wolf was once a member of the Great Alliance, but this is disputed by multiple other sources.
The Great Alliance has no leader, but the founder of the Redwing tribe was as close to a leader as one could get during the 21st century. His name was Redwing-lives-forever, and although he was not chief or king or president, when he spoke it carried more weight than when others spoke. Redwing had no children of his own, but most outsiders believed that his unofficial successor would be his nephew Cooper Redwing.
* * *
This is his story.
Chapter 1
The Meaning of Prophecy
Fifteen Years Earlier...
August 2nd, 2105
Cooper gave the soccer ball a sharp kick, sending the ruddy brown leather ball tumbling towards his half brother Pike. The ball bounced along the pockmarked field towards towards the older taller boy. The ball had nearly reached Pike when his cousin, Malika Singh, darted in like a dark blur and snatched the ball from its course and took off running.
"No little kids allowed on the field!" She called back at Cooper as she ran.
"I'm not little! I'm five now!" Cooper called back in frustration at his cousin.
Pike broke into his usual loping run, an odd animal-like trot that looked slow until the watcher saw how much ground Pike was covering with every step.
"If little kids aren't allowed, then I'm going to evict you until you turn at least ten." Pike called as he rapidly closed the distance between the two."
"No!" Malika called back, "Five is little, eight isn't little!"
Cooper struggled to keep up. He'd been playing soccer since he could walk, and could run practically forever, but Pike could run faster than anyone Cooper had ever seen- even most adults. Malika wasn't terribly fast for an eight year old, but she was noticeably taller at eight, and had longer legs than Cooper. Still Cooper could sprint very well for his age, running was a highly praised skill amongst most of the tribes of the Great Alliance. Horse ownership was rare, and car ownership was almost unheard of amongst the tribes. Elder Janet Pattinson still owned an old electric car that she had to keep plugged into a waterwheel full time just to use it once a month in emergencies. In the tribes, running was freedom. If you couldn't run, then you were unable to travel.
Cooper didn't like being last. He didn't like being left behind. It made him feel like an outsider, and he felt like that too often anyway. People were nice to him, but he hadn't been born here, and he didn't have a Mom or a Dad here. He called Pike's Mom: 'Auntie Lana', but she wasn't really his Aunt. Pike and Cooper had the same Dad, but their Dad didn't live here. Pike didn't talk about that to Cooper. Even Pike didn't talk about their mutual father, though Pike told Cooper almost everything else. And so, even though people were nice here, Cooper often felt like an outsider. Cooper didn't like feeling like an outsider. He pushed into a sprint and began to close the distance between himself and the spot of grass where Malika and Pike were struggling for control of the soccer ball.
Pike noticed Cooper closing and winked at his little half-brother. Cooper grinned and nodded back. Pike was twelve, a whole seven years older than Cooper and seemed so much smarter and cooler than Cooper himself. Cooper thought though, that Pike felt a little like an outsider too. It gave the two boys a strong bond. Cooper idolized his big brother and Pike was always there to look out for his little brother. And so Cooper pushed himself even faster to make sure he didn't let Pike down.
"You play soccer like a townee!" Pike taunted Malika abruptly.
Malika's face opened in shock and then tightened into a snarl and she pushed the bigger boy with both hands, "I do not! Take it back!"
Pike easily gained control of the ball and shot it to the incoming Cooper, who scooped it up with his moccasin clad feet and continued passed without pausing.
"Okay, I take it back, but I take back the ball too." Pike said with a grin.
Malika glared for a few seconds and then bolted after Cooper. She was faster, even when Cooper was sprinting, and was closing ground quickly.
Cooper was close to the net, but he knew exactly how far he could kick accurately, and he was still too far out.
"Coop! Kick it now!" Pike called from behind him.
Cooper nodded. Trusting his big brother, he shifted his weight a let go the hardest rocket of a kick he could, aiming the ball at the nearest upper corner of the net. A half moment later Malika plowed into him. She had been running so hard that she couldn't stop in time, and the two children tumbled to the grass together.
Cooper heard a familiar dull thud that he knew meant the soccer ball had bounced off the trunk of the oak tree that they used as a goal post, and his heart sunk. Then, he suddenly heard the sharp smack of a foot hitting a leather ball. Then Cooper heard the rest of his team cheering.
"Not fair! You're too good Pike!" Rikki Singh called out. Rikki was Malika's older brother and always played goalie. Rikki was possibly the best distance runner amongst the children Cooper's age, but was also the slowest. His grandpa Booker called him: 'Slow Train'. Cooper knew what a train was- although he'd never seen one, much less ridden on one. Most of the working ones were way out east.
Pike laughed, "Then maybe next time you should be on my team Slow Train."
"Next time I'll bring a fishing net and have you for dinner, fishy Pike boy." Rikki shot back, grinning.
"Only if you catch me!" Neither boy sounded angry. Rikki was almost Pike's age and the two were good friends.
Cooper sat up and checked the straps that wrapped up the length of his mocassins, to make sure they had survived the fall. Malika was doing likewise.
Abruptly Malika turned to him, "You're good for a little kid."
Cooper blushed, "You're only two years older than me."
"When we're old enough, I'm going to marry you." Malika said with a wicked grin.
"We're cousins, that's gross." Cooper said, not looking at her.
"We're only cousins 'cause you and Pike have the same Dad. We aren't related by any blood. I checked with Mom. So I'm going to marry you when we grow up."
Cooper looked studiously at the floor, unsure what to say. The topic embarrassed and confused him.
Abruptly Malika changed the subject, "Do you think I should keep my hair short like my Mom, or let it grow out and do corn rows like my Auntie Layla?"
Cooper looked up at Malika and considered it. She was a darker chocolate brown than her mother more like the deep near black of her Aunt Layla, but also showed a strong edge of her father's Indo-Canadian heritage in her almond eyes.
"Go with corn rows," Cooper said eventually, "Corn rows are cool."
"Thanks!" She said with a grin as she stood up, "I need to know what my husband likes!"
And before he could object, she had giggled at her joke and darted off.
Other children were milling around the field. The children always played first to three points, and the game was now over. Pike walked over as Cooper stood up.
"Good job Coop."
"I missed." Cooper said in frustration.
"You were too far out to have a good shot when I told you to shoot."
"I still missed."
"Yeah but it was that or lose the ball. You almost scored, and I was able to rebound it 'cause you hit the oak."
"I still missed."
"Okay, yeah. You missed- but we didn't. I'm your brother Coop. I got your back. You got mine. I couldn't have scored if you hadn't been there to pass to. You're only five Coop, that means you're still little. Malika's right. But you won't be little forever. Uncle Redwing always says that forever is slippery. You won't be little forever, and you're good now. So when you're big, you'll be great."
Cooper nodded, then stopped.
"When I'm big, I'll be the best."
Pike shook his head, "Nah, 'cause I'll always be bigger than you. You can be as good as me. But you're never going to be better than me."
"That's cool too. I can share."
An alarm horn's sharp triple note cut through the quiet air. Coop and Pike's heads cocked as one and listened. The first three notes were followed by a pause and then three notes again.
Pike looked to Coop, "It's a raid. Who do you think?"
Coop looked back, "Who is it normally?"
Pike nodded, "The Winter Wolves."
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