Exodus Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine
Civil Disobedience

One thing that was easy to forget as we all struggled along with the increasingly ominous shortages of everything that used to be easy to come by, was the fact that Mr. Wolf was pleased with us. When They went marching down the street with Mr. Wolf at the front, putting up flyers and telling people what they couldn’t do anymore, he would give us a nod and a knowing smile or a casual salute. He even seemed to be reasonably okay with Viper and Raven. My suspicion is that Viper telling him about the people on Mr. Tailor’s side really tipped the balance in Mr. Wolf’s favor at the big town meeting when Mr. Tailor resigned. It’s hard to know for sure, we couldn’t see a lot of what the adults were doing, but that was always my guess.

Either way, Mr. Wolf liked us. He seemed to think we were his eyes and ears, and probably thought of us as some secret of his or that sort of thing. I say that because he didn’t meet us with other people much. I think he liked being able to ask what we say and be pretty sure that other people weren’t thinking we would tell him. Of course, we didn’t tell him anything we didn’t have to. But still, it was creepy.

But because he did like us and because he did think of us as being on his team, Mr. Wolf would occasionally want us around. Usually just the boys, that hadn’t changed much. And so one day Owl, Wolf and I found ourselves standing beside Mr. Wolf as five of Them knocked on Mrs Giller’s door. My mom was there as well, but none of her officers, just Mr. Wolf, Mom and the five of Them in their sunglasses and their black vests.

One of Mrs. Giller’s cats was sitting on the porch swing, and one of Them immediately picked it up and carried it back to the truck we had arrived in. Mr. Wolf hadn’t told us why we were here, but I suddenly had a sense of it as I looked at the skinny cat being loaded into the back of the truck.

I turned back and saw that Mrs. Giller had come to the door and arguing with one of Them. As we all watched, the other three of Them pushed past Mrs. Giller and headed into her house. Mr. Giller turned to follow them. My mom stepped between Mrs. Giller and the door and began speaking to her. I could see Mrs. Giller’s face slowly go from anger, to shocked surprise and then despair. And then she started sobbing. Her face almost seemed to fall apart as she cried, and I struggled to control my own tears as I watched.

As we stared, They came back out of the house carrying Mrs. Giller’s other four cats. They carried the struggling animals across the street, where they were stuffed into pet carrying cases and hefted into the back of the truck. We could hear the cats mewing from across the road. It sounded like children calling out for their mother.

Mrs. Giller just on her front steps sobbing uncontrollably. I could see my mom still talking to Mrs. Giller. Mrs. Giller didn't seem to be listening. When my mom put a hand on the other woman's shoulder though, Mrs. Giller looked up in rage and slapped the hand away.

Two of Them looked up as though about to do something, but my mom waved them off. She spoke to Mrs. Giller for several more minutes, but after a moment the other woman just returned her head to her hands and kind of crumpled into herself in despair.

I looked at Mr. Wolf.

"You're going to kill the cats. Aren't you?"

"Yes." He said, without any visible emotion. "There is no way that she can care for those cats or feed them properly. If we don't kill them, they will starve to death slowly and painfully. And they will use up food that we don't have to spare. If I had my way, we would be euthanizing all pets in town. I didn't get my way, not to the extent that I desired. But this is, nonetheless, official and under the authority of the Interim Emergency Council."

"The what, sir?"

"The town council never replaced the Mayor after Tailor ran away. And since we need a clear chain of command during this emergency, the Interim Emergency Council was set up."

I didn't think Raven's dad voted for that. I fact I was amazed that it got voted through at all. But then I thought about the Union and their volunteers in their sun glasses and reflective vests, and it didn't seem so strange that people might fall into line a little easier. Maybe it even made them feel safe. I was thinking about what he said about wanting to euthanize all the pets.

"Some people can still feed their pets." I noted.

"And the food that they give to animals could be given to humans instead."

"Humans are more important than animals." I said it with a tone of voice carefully modulated to make it sound like an statement of agreement.

"Exactly. I'm glad you understand."

I wasn't sure I did understand. Something didn't seem to fit, but I couldn't get my head around what it was. I didn't want to look at poor Mrs. Giller anymore, so I looked at Mr. Brown's house. His solar panels were gone. I could see the dark patches on the roof showing where they had been. When had that happened? And more importantly, where had they gone? But, of course, who would I ask? So I didn't ask anyone. And so this is what my days were like. Following along with Mr. Wolf. Telling Bart what happened. Telling Mr. Wolf some of what we could about Bart. And generally acting like we were on both sides. I didn’t like it. It made me uncomfortable. But it all went along, and I got used to the routine.

It didn’t last though. That’s a big lesson from all of this I suppose, nothing ever lasts.

"Son of mine, I need to talk to you.” my mother said as I was eating breakfast, the morning after we took Mrs. Giller’s cats.

She continued, “I know you talk to Bartholomew. And I know Mr. Wolf likes that you do that. I disagree, but that is not currently the issue. What is the issue is that he has become a danger to the town's continued safety. And I am going to have to shut down his operation and confiscate his equipment."

I shook my head in disbelief," I don't understand, what has he done? He writes a little paper and talks about what he thinks. That's not illegal is it?"

"He is scaring people and and is criticizing the actions and authority of the Interim Council. The town is not doing well, Honey. Since the avalanche we've been scraping by. But the avalanche is beyond our ability to clear and nobody from outside the town has been able to send anything. We are basically locked here until spring at the earliest. And we do not have the luxury of debating things anymore, we simply don't have the resources to dither around and talk and not do anything. And so every time Bartholomew writes some immature little diatribe about how we're all goose stepping morons, it makes our job that much more difficult. And our job is to keep this town functioning. So any disruption that he causes is very dangerous."

"So that makes it okay to shut him down?"

"No, it's not okay. But it is necessary. I want to make it clear, that I do not like this. I feel that this is necessary in order to hold this little town, my home, together."

"Mom..."

"No, This is our home, it's where my family has lived for three generations. If this town falls apart because I didn't have the nerve to do the unpopular, but necessary things to protect it; then I will have failed myself, and every member of our family who built a life here before you. And I will have failed you. You deserve to have a town to call home, you deserve to have this town to call home. And to protect our heritage and your future, I am going to do what needs to be done. It may not be the nice thing, it may not even be the good thing, but I will do those things that are necessary. I don't have to like it. Nobody in the town has to like it."

I sighed. And nodded.

"So stay away until this is over. Can I trust you to do that?"

"Yes mom. You can."

"Good. I know you don't like this. But one day, you'll understand."

"Mom, can I go out?" I asked.

She looked at me in surprise, and then concern, "Not to Bart.” I explained, “ I want to talk to Professor Tuttle. He's my teacher still, technically. I need somebody to ask questions to, and I think he might be able to answer them. He's really smart."

She nodded. And I headed out. I didn't grab any of the gang. I didn't want anyone else to get in trouble if I got caught. I was, in fact, going to see Professor Tuttle. I know the Professor talked to Bart and was on his Secret Tribe as well. I suppose that I could have gone to Mildred Sanger, but I didn't want to risk my mom drawing a connection between her and Bart. And Mr. Wolf seemed to like Professor Tuttle, so he seemed like a safer bet- somebody that the other adults would be less likely to suspect getting word to Bart.

Professor Tuttle was normally not at home. If he wasn't at school, then he was at the library. Ad so I headed there. As I passed the Town Hall, a flash of light drew my attention to a utility building down behind the town hall in an alley way. I walked part way down the alley and saw that the utility shed had a set of new solar panels on it's roof. I was sure that those hadn't been there before. I continued on to the library, and sure enough, surrounded by books with notepads everywhere, was Professor Tuttle.

"Rabbit," He said as looked up, "How can I help you?"

"Can I talk sir? I have some hard questions that I need to ask you."

"Yes, of course. I'm a teacher. Hard questions are what I do."

I sat beside him, and thought for a long time trying to figure out how best to say what I wanted to say. We were in a public place, and I had to be careful what I said. I didn't want it to sound like I was warning Bart through Professor Tuttle. Finally I just let it pour out.

"My mom is going to shut down Bart and his paper," I said quietly, "She told me not to go see him and that she was doing something that wasn't right so that we could all be okay. She said she wasn't doing what was good, but what was necessary. And it made me really uncomfortable when she said it, but it all made sense when she said it. So what do I do?"

Professor Tuttle was quiet for a long moment. And I wasn't sure what to make of his silence. I decided to be a little clearer about what I wanted from him.

"We're a really small town, and everyone knows everyone. But its not like we're a tribe or anything." I said.

Professor Tuttle looked up sharply at that.

"It's not like I owe Bart anything, you know. He's not my tribe, just somebody else in town that I know. But I feel like he's getting picked on here. I don't like keeping secrets, even if he isn't my tribe."

At this point I hoped the Professor had figured out what I was asking him to do. The Professor was silent for a minute or so longer, and then he nodded.

"We must sometimes bow to the needs of the majority." Professor Tuttle sighed.

"Would it be that way in a tribe, Professor?" I asked, very quietly, “I notice people seem to say that an awful lot when they benefit from being in the majority. Like the rest of us should be grateful the majority is better off at our expense. Don't you think finding a way that works for everyone might be better? Or don't you mind living off the happiness of others?”

Professor Tuttle sighed again and nodded.

"If we were a tribe, loyalties would be different. And somebody would certainly need to warn their fellow tribe members of impending disaster. It would be a betrayal of trust if they didn't." He looked at me hard and then quietly tapped his index finger to his chest and nodded. "But we live in a civil society, not a tribal society and the rules are different."

“But if we were in a tribe,” I insisted, “We would have to help.”

“Yes, we would.” Professor Tuttle acknowledged.

Later that day I stood beside Mr. Wolf as Mom led her officers into Bart’s Office and carried out equipment. Bart wasn’t there. People wondered aloud about that, but nobody called me on it. I think that was because Professor Tuttle was seen as neutral in this whole thing and so my mother didn’t connect Bart to Tuttle and then back to me.

My mom confiscated most of Bart’s printing equipment, although I noticed that it was Mr. Wolf that seemed to be using it. But Bart had taken some of his stuff with him: a laptop computer and a laser printer- things he could stuff into the back of a car or onto a bike trailer. And he kept printing his newsletter. It wasn’t packaged with the regular paper anymore of course.

Bart called it ‘The Dissenting Voice’. And although Mr. Wolf would grab every copy of it he could find- people were reading it everywhere I looked. Bart would dump it in bunches at random people’s houses and leave them to pass it around or not. He didn’t publish ads or jokes any more, only information about the changing power structure, the outside world and his own opinions.

Nobody had really said anything officially, but I noticed that pretty much every public building was either closed or directly used by the interim council. The library was no longer lending books. There was a sign on the door saying that the books could be read in the library itself , but could not be borrow until further notice 'to protect the collection'. I don't know why, but the thing with the library really left me feeling uneasy, more so than anything else. They were now using the community center as a 'training facility', The Town Hall felt as lot more like the King's Castle these days. They were going in an out of the police station and the different fire halls pretty much constantly. But it was when the sign went up on the library that I got a chill down my back and an uneasy feeling about how much control Mr. Wolf and Mrs. Winter were able to push through these days.

I know that Raven's dad was still on the council, and he wouldn’t support any of this. I wanted to think my mother wouldn't approve of this, but after she raided Bart’s office I was having a hard time judging her.

The creepiest thing is that Mr. Wolf kept adding more buildings to the list of buildings that the Union was using. He took myself and Owl and Wolf along when he set up a new building most times, and it was normally weird. Especially when he hadn’t told the people using it that he was going to start using their building before he showed up.

The presence of the union was normally enough to get people to cooperate. When he took over Mr. Blackwell’s Auto Repair Garage at the edge of town, Mr. Blackwell just nodded as though he had expected it and handed over the keys. Mrs. Winter joined Mr. Wolf when it happened, she didn't show  up in public that much, so it was a sign to me that this was significant.

We watched as Mr. Wolf’s men began unloading the boxes from their pickup trucks and into the storage buildings behind the repair garage. And Mrs. Winter began speaking, I think to Mr. Wolf

"When you look at everything from the correct angle, you realize that the avalanche was a blessing in disguise. We have to assume that refugees will start spilling outwards from the cities as things get worse. Can you imagine hundreds of thousands of starving people with no apprecible skills bearing down on those little towns too close to a city and to easily accessed by highway. It would look like something out of a zombie movie." Mrs. Winter said with a pleasant smile.

Mr. Wolf nodded, “They don't have the leadership, the coordination or the will to do what is needed.”

"Isolation is a kind of furnace to burn away impurity," Mrs. Winter continued, "In a big city with so many disparate groups and so much disorder, we could never achieve the results that we've managed here in our little isolated mountain town."

“They aren't results yet. This is still in the early stages.”

"I think we're further along that you give us credit for being. Look at the news on the television. Things are getting unlivable in the big cities. Look at the situation in Pakistan. Look at Brazil. Look at Greece and Turkey. They can't hold things together, and we can. No more secret rulers. No more secret masters or ancient mysteries. Now we create a world of honesty and purity."

Mr. Wolf nodded and Mrs. Winter seemed satisfied with that. I was unnerved by the conversation, but more unnerved by what we were watching. And so, as they worked I asked Mr. Wolf a question.

“What are we storing here sir?”

“Mostly machine parts, and the ammunition that we can’t fit into the main storehouse in the school gymnasium.”

“There’s ammo in the school gym?” Owl asked, surprised.

“It was a good place to store it. We have lights and heating control there, and lots of storage space and its easy to keep it empty of people. “

I was trying to wrap my head around this when one of the men unloading the boxes slipped and dropped the box. He was smoking a cigarette and it fell from his mouth as he tripped, the red tip landing on the top of the ammunition box.

Mr. Wolf strode forward and swept the lit cigarette from the top of the box with his hand and then grabbed the man by his shirt collar.

"You moron! I ought to light you on fire and watch dance it out for something so stupid. The only thing stopping me, is that I'd have wasted your uniform." Mr. Wolf sounded furious as yelled and pulled the man to within inches of his angry glaring face.

"I'm sorry sir."

"Sorry! Do you know how we activate ammunition? We light the gun powder! It burns! Do you want to destroy our ammunition dump?"

"No sir."

"Then feed that stupid weak addiction of your somewhere else, somewhere I can't see it so that I do not feel the need to decorate your skin with cigarette burns!"

"I'm sorry sir."

I looked silently at Wolf and then at Owl. I think we were all wondering the same thing. Why did they need so much ammunition? The next day we found ourselves with Mr. Wolf in front of the school. The union men opened the double doors to the gymnasium, and we got our first look inside since everything started. It looked like a warehouse piled high with boxes and plastic storage tubs and bags labelled rice and flour and vegetable protein and on and on and on. Mr. Wolf walked to the entrance of the gymnasium and turned to face us, like an officer standing in the hangar of a military base addressing his best men.

"Men, with the increased facilities now available too us, I want to better organize our resources. To that end, we are going to move the bulk of our food supplies to the community centre. That includes the water purification  and filtration systems, and the cooking equipment. We will store excess food supplies at locations with set up designed to hold food supplies, such as the Diner."

"We will be splitting the ammunition between the newly acquired garage location and the school location. But I want the body armor and the tools to be stored at the police station. They have the facilities to properly store them. We will hold some of the personnel equipment, such as batteries for the flashlights at the community center as well- as an aid to resupplying the volunteers."

We piled into a group of older pick up trucks as some of the volunteers poured gasoline into the trucks from bright red plastic containers. Once the trucks were filled, we set off back to the school and began the process of loading the trucks, driving to the various locations, and unloading the equipment.

As the day wore on, we started to wear out. And by mid afternoon we were exhausted.

"This is a lot of rice," Owl said as he lifted one of the bags and slung it up onto his shoulder to carry it.

"It has to be." Mr. Wolf said, "The average adult needs roughly between two and three thousand calories each day if they are working hard."

As we loaded the bags into the the community center, I noticed that Wolf was counting quietly to himself and scanning around, looking at everyone carrying bags.

I kept unloading, but I noticed that Wolf seemed to look more and more concerned. Finally as he stopped to grab another bag of rice out of a truck he addressed his father.

"Sir? Dad?" Wolf's father started a bit when his son called him 'dad'.

"We do have enough food to get through the winter? Don't we, sir?"

Mr. Wolf didn't answer right away. His face looked uncomfortable, as though he were trying to decide between two equally unpleasant choices.

Finally he turned and looked at his son.

"We have to maintain order, and to do that, we have to maintain calm. So I don't want you to tell anybody this. We were able to bring in enough food to feed roughly one hundred people for six months. This is why we need to control the other available food sources. If we are going to make it through the winter as an ordered community, we need to bring every weapon to bear on this problem."

"So do we have enough food in town, if everyone contributes then?" Owl asked as he came back for another bag of rice.

"We'll need to bring Sumpter's Ridge into the flock and get access to their farms if we want to have a fighting chance. We're going to need them on the same page if we're going to prosper in the long term."

"The people in Sumter's Ridge kind of don't like us very much." I said.

"That comes mostly from that Stanislav Chernabog. He acts like Sumpter's Ridge is his own private little kingdom."

"I didn't think they had a mayor."

"They don't. Chernabog is more like a mob boss than a mayor. He doesn't have any official power, but people are afraid to make him angry."

"So what will you do?"

I can be very convincing, if I have to be." Mr. Wolf put a hand on the nightstick hanging in his belt as he spoke, although I don't think he realized that he had done it. When we finished up, we wandered back to Owl's house talking about what Mr. Wolf had said.

“So, it sounds like we are going to starve,” I said “Like Mrs. Winter will have to put her plan into action and let the people who don't cooperate starve while only feeding her allies.”

“Do you think people will go along with that?” Owl asked.

“I don't know if they'll have a choice.” Wolf said, “My dad's men could do a lot of damage, and they have pretty much all of the food. And they've been working to gain control of any food that's not already theirs. It's like I said before. My dad doesn't play games. This is chess. This is war. Everything is war to him.”

“I need to talk to my mom.” Owl said abruptly, “If you're right then I owe it my dad to keep a promise.” He jogged ahead and Wolf and I picked up the pace so that we could keep up.

When we caught him, Owl was breathlessly asking his  mother, “Mom, do you think we should try to leave town? Like Mayor Tailor tried to do?"

"I don't think so dear. All of my food is stored here, and all of my preparations are here. I moved here way back when so that I could be isolated from the big cities, in case anything went wrong. I wanted to be in a small town where I could know the people around me."

"I'm not sure I know a lot of people any more." I said.

"Well, it's a crisis, and people panic. But I have my preparations for lean times and disasters and depressions and recessions and that sort of thing. They come around in cycles, and its the people who were prepared who tend to fare the best. You can't prepare for everything, but I think I've done pretty well."

"So you don't think we should leave?"

"We can't drive out, not with the avalanche. And we would be in much worse shape without the food we've stored and the gear I've collected. So, no- I think we should stay right here. Trust me honey, we're ready for whatever ends up coming at us."

"Dad thinks we should run."

Owl's mother sighed.

"Of course he does. I love your dad. Even now, I love him. But he ran to a bottle years ago. So of course he's going to suggest running away now. that's how he is. He's a runner. I want you to be nice to him. He wants to go on a hunt with you. I say let him do it. He wants to run away, I'm willing to humour him that much."

“I don't really want to go alone. Do you think it'd be okay if I brought some friends?” Owl asked.

“You'll be like a herd of elephants in the forest, you know that.” She said.

“Maybe just one or two,” Owl asked, “Rabbit is pretty quiet, and maybe Viper- maybe I can show her that stuff like this isn't lame. Would that be okay?”

“It's not me you have to ask sweetie. Ask you father. If he says it's okay, that's fine.”

“I will mom.”

“And ask your friends if they want to come.”

I was up for going on a hunt. The whole thing was new to me. Viper wasn't as keen, but agreed. I think she agreed just to be able to tell Owl how dumb the whole thing was at the end- owl didn't seem to notice. Owl's father was just glad that Owl was willing to do the hunt and had no problem with any of this. So there we were one very cold morning in early winter with Owl and his Dad, dressed awkwardly in Owl's spare camouflage overalls and wondering what came next. Owl's dad ruffled his son's hair, and  Owl brushed his hand away.

"I've been dry for a week in preparation for a hunt, and a hunt with my boy to boot." He looked at Viper and me, “Have either of you two ever hunted before.”

"No, but like Yoda said, 'Do or do not, there is no try." I said.

"Yoda was a punk." Viper said.

Owl’s Dad shook his head, “Try or try not. There is no do. You’re never going to do something perfect. Everything is a try, sometimes a try works and sometimes it doesn’t. There’s nothing wrong with trying.” He paused, and looked away for a second, “The secret is not to stop trying. It’s only when you stop trying that you really lose.”

“I know not to look directly at the deer and to think like a rock.” Viper said.

“It’s about ignoring it. Or pretending you don’t exist. Those are just symptoms. You gotta respect the deer. I mean its a living thing too. And if you’re hunting it, you gotta respect that it doesn’t want you to kill it, and it shouldn’t have to.”

“I don’t see how that relates.”

“Only smart animals are cruel. Not just people- but we really are good at it. And because we’re smart, we have to remember to have respect for the things we eat. They don’t want to die. Do you? I don’t, and I pretty much ran out of hope a long time ago- and I still don’t want to die. But we have to eat, if we want to stay alive. And to eat, we kill. And if that’s the case, and it is- you got to respect the things that you’re killing.”

“I still don’t understand how that relates.”

“Okay, let me try again. Let’s say you’re a hunter and you don’t respect the stuff that you’re hunting. You got a big gun with a big scope and you can be so far away when you shoot that you don’t got to even pretend you think you’re a rock.  Now let’s say you don’t, you really got no respect for what you’re hunting. You’re hunting because its fun and you got a quadzillion trophy heads on your wall.”

“I don’t think quadzillion is a word.”

“Either way. If you hunt like this, you know what happens?”

“You run out of wall space in your trophy room?”

“Yup, and your wife gets mad when you put them up in the living room, but only keeps happening until you overhunt things really bad. Like with the dodos. You know the ones. Big flightless pigeons, on a island between India and Africa. They got no predators, nothing hunting them- so when the White folks come to the island- the dodos don’t know to be afraid and the white folks don’t need any respect for the dodos to catch them and eat them. And what happened to the dodos? Gone. Extinct. Murdered by a lack of respect.”

“Okay, so I understand why we should respect them for that reason, but how does that help us when we are hunting?” Viper insisted.

“Oh, yeah, I got off track there, didn’t I? Dodos, didn’t have predators and so you didn’t have to respect them, because they didn’t know to be afraid or be careful. Deer have wolves and cougars and that’s just the start. The deer is on the alert, he is potentially on the dinner plate every day and he knows it. And you have to respect the deer if you are going to catch it. Respect, means you know that the other guy is capable and not underestimating him. It also means appreciating what it’s going to lose if you win, and thinking about long term consequences. Respect is good word, lots of useful meanings. We lost way too much respect for the world we live in. And now we’re all paying for it. But let’s forget that now. I have my boy and his friends and we are going out on a hunt and I am going to teach you guys all about respect. This is going to be a good day. Today we hunt some Mule Deer I've been keeping an eye on.”

"Why do they call them Mule Deer?" I asked.

"Cause they got big ears like mules. They're also called black tailed deer."

"They have black tails?"

"Not really, just the tip is black. But it helps keep them separate from white tailed deer. The obvious difference is how the antlers go, but I guess that's harder to put in a name."

"Their antlers?"

"Yeah, the white tails antlers sweep around in a smooth line and little point shoot off from the main sweep. The mule deer's antlers spilt and then split again. They like to eat evergreens like cedar and douglas fir in the winter. Actually, I don't know if they eat them because they like it, or because there isn't much else to eat. Funny how that works, eh? The deer are lower down the mountain now, because of the snow higher up. I think we're going to a big dump of snow down in town pretty quick too, judging from how much there is up on the mountain."

"It's not all on the mountain anymore," I said quietly, thinking about the avalanche and Russell- and feeling guilty.

Owl's dad seemed to realize what I was meaning, and he put a hand on my shoulder.

"You're not wrong, you know. That for me was a real bad sign. Now we've got no way out. Just a bunch of logging roads that don't go nowhere. Nothing gets better when there's no way out."

We began to trudge up the mountain, on and off the logging roads in the early morning light. Owl's father seemed energized, and he looked more confident- although that could have been the beams of dawn light playing across him as we walked. Either way, he talked a lot as we walked.

"The thing that always bothered me. The thing that I could never handle, was how everyone had to own so much stuff. Everything had to belong to people. I never got that. How can you say you own the land?"

"Well, because you bought it." Viper said.

"Yeah, but so what? It's going to be around when you're gone, when your kids are gone and their kids or gone. Doesn't matter what laws people write down on paper, no land belongs to anybody as far as I'm concerned- we all belong to the land. My dad was no prize. I mean, I know I screwed up your life pretty good boy, but my dad was worse. The only good thing my dad ever taught me was that. Take some time one day and go look at a dictionary. Look up the word 'indigenous' and see what it says. You might be surprised."

He wouldn't explain further on the subject, and as we got further up the mountain he began to shift the conversation to the Mule Deer themselves.

"I've been watching these bad boys since summer. Been hoping I could talk you into a winter hunt with your old man. There's natural salt lick that the local mule deer like to visit and we ought to be able to see one of the ones I've been watching today if we're lucky."

"You've never told me about any salt lick Dad. Is this a trick? Have you been leaving bait around?"

"No boy. I don't like using bait. It isn't illegal here, but I don't want to change the deer's habits and get them more used to people. This is a teeny tiny mineral spring. The spring itself is just a little crack in the rocks, and it's probably frozen, but the deer like the salt. White tails like the salt more, but I've seen our bad boys there pretty much like clockwork."

He led us to the spring, and as he had said, it was just an outcropping of rocks erupting from the moss. There was a skim of ice over all of the rocks. Owl and his dad were both looking around the area.

"Okay, we got tracks here.” Owl said, “And they're pretty fresh. They're frosted over, so they aren't this morning, so they haven't been here today yet."

“Good eyes boy. Let's get good positions and wait then.”

Nobody ever told me how much waiting was involved in hunting. We sat crouched in a pile of brush, Owl had his rifle ready, but not to his shoulder and we sat watching the spring.

Viper got the foot cramp first, and I watched her fighting the urge to make noise as she slowly flexed her foot to ward off the pain from the clenching muscles.

I tore a muscle in my right hip when I was little, I was climbing on a playground and slipped and ended up hanging from a role ladder by my right leg. Since then, my right hip has cramped if I sit to long in one position. And so Viper may have got muscle cramps first, but I followed pretty close behind, and the two of sat quietly nursing our outraged appendages while Owl and his dad sat patiently and quietly, giving us looks that seemed both sympathetic and vaguely frustrated.

I didn't want to move from my basic position for fear that a deer that was in the general vicinity and thinking that maybe this might be good time for a salty snack, might suddenly hear me moving and flee forever.

Just when I thought I was going to scream and pain and have to stand to relieve the agony, a deer wandered into view. Owl's dad had picked this spot pretty well, because I realized that it gave Owl a full broadside shot of the deer as it used the game trail. The deer approached the spring cautiously, as Owl slowly raised his rifle. I saw Owl flick his safety off, and put his eye to the sights.

There was a brief moment of calm, and then the deer's nose twitched and it tensed. Owl leaned forward and squeezed the trigger. The gun shot echoed up the mountain and the gun recoiled. The deer launched itself into retreat and bounded out of the clearing at top speed.

“I'm sorry Owl,” I said.

“Don't be,” Owl said, “I hit it. It wasn't clean, but I got it center mass. We'll have to follow the blood trail, but that shot should bring it down.”

So headed out. The blood trail was indeed visible, and for the most part it was fairly easy to follow. It took about half and hour of walking be eventually we found the deer in a gully where it had gotten stuck and seemed to have just run out of steam. We worked together to pull the deer from the gully, and lay it down on it's side.

"Okay everyone lay out rocks,” Owl's father said,” Make them about as big as your fist, and make a lumpy table out of them to put the deer on."

"What for?" Viper asked.

"To drain the blood away from the deer while Owl and I dressing the fella."

Owl's dad took his knife and drew the blade down between between the hind legs of the deer. He then flipped the blade so the edge was facing up and cut through the breast bone and kept going all the way up to the neck of the deer.

He then reached in and cut something inside the deer neck and grabbed whatever he had cut, yanking down hard. After that, he lifted up the deer and swept the rocks away with his feet, and put the deer back down on its side. He reached into the midsection of the deer and cut at somethign witht he knife and the rolled the deer to the opposite side and did the same thing.

"Hey kids, I'm going to lift the deer back up, push the rocks back under it for me please." He said and then heft the deer up. The rocks were slick and red with drying blood as we pushed them back under. Owl's dad put the deer back down, and then he looked at Owl.

"You want to help me with the entrails?"

"I can manage that dad."

"Okay, go to it."

Owl reached into the deer's mid section and began tuggin down. Slowly all of the guts of the deer emerged from the deer. With his father's help, Owl placed them onto a plastic sheet off to the side.

"If you're up for it, I'll hold the legs while you cut." His dad offered.

"I'm up for it Dad." Owl said.

While his dad held the hind legs apart, Owl squeezed in and cut to where the legs met the body. He cut through the meat of the leg  down to the joint that attached the leg to the body.

"How do you know where to cut?" I asked.

"There's a seam," Owl said and he worked the knife between the bones.

Once Owl was finished with the hind legs, Owl's dad had us all help hang the deer up on a tree branch. And then we waited. Once the had drained from the body, Owl and his dad took turns as they skinned the deer.

They started on the inside of the legs near the hooves, and finished up around the midsection. Once they had finished with the knives, Owl's dad grabbed the deer behind the neck and yanked down hard and the hide pulled free almost down to the end of the legs. Viper actually jumped when he did it, and I almost yelped in surprise. Owl stepped in and used his knife to cut loose the parts that hadn't come free.

"Now we hang it up to finish draining for a couple hours." Owl said.

"A couple hours! What do we do until then?" Viper asked.

"We clean up, and clean the carcass and entrails. I got a bag for the heart and the liver. After all that though. We talk." Owl's dad said.

Once the last of the clean up was done and the deer carcass was hanging properly, we sat down and Owl's dad pulled out a bag of trail mix with chocolate and nuts and dried fruit and passed the bag around.

"So," He said as we grabbed hand fulls of the trail mix, "What did you two learn?"

"I learned that it isn't as straight forward as I thought.” Viper said, “I figured you just went walking in the woods until you saw something and then you shot it and brought it home."

Owl's dad laughed.

"You can go walking for some stuff," He said, "But most animals have got our number and they're on the look out. So you got to respect the animal and the fact that its going to do everything it can to stop from becoming dinner for your or a wolf or a mountain lion or whoever."

"Dad. How can you respect the deer if you don't respect yourself anymore?" Owl said.

I almost choked on cashew. And Viper gave Owl a dirty look.

"That's mean." She said.

"He isn't wrong though." Owl's dad said.

"Dad what happened. I heard you got in a fight with men from Sumpter's ridge. Right before you started drinking."

"That had nothing to do with it. Not directly."

"But what was it about?"

"None of your concern. That was my business and my bad judgement. I got lots of that to go around. Leave that one be. You want to know what happened? The same thing that's happening to you. I couldn't find a place for myself in polite society. I tried, for my wife and my son I tried. My wife tried to accomodate me, help me manage, but I couldn't. I looked at this concrete and steel thing people built and every place I tried to fit in, it ate me up and spat me out. I tried to get out of its way, but that's hard to do and still help out your family. But I managed for years. I hung on."

"Is this what you call hanging on?" Owl asked.

"No, I hung on for years, it didn't last forever."

"I don't get it Dad, what was so bad? I don't like the idea of living in a little box and going to some job I hate five days a week until I die either, but I don't drink to hide from it."

"Good, you keep it that way."

"Sir," I asked, "what finally did it?"

"I was really little, younger than you kids when they built the Mill." He said.

"I watched them tear down all the trees and rip open the earth and kill everything to build that big concrete building. And I listened as everybody talked about how it was going to bring jobs and prosperity and all that."

"I knew the land that they tore up to build that mill.  I knew the trails the animals used. I knew how that land breathed, where the animals went and how they went, and then they tore it all up."

"And I was told that it was necessary to help the town and the people in it. And I bought that. I was used to the idea that the mill was a necessary compromise and a necessary sacrifice."

"And then they shut the mill down, and moved the jobs to China. Everyone cried about the jobs going somewhere else. I just couldn't shake that now they were going to destroy another place forever to find a cheaper place to turn trees into pulp and toilet paper. Last time they did it here. This time they were going to do it in China. I guessed that last time they did it somewhere in Europe or back East."

"It ate at my conscience. It ate at my soul that this devil's compromise that was supposed to be so necessary wasn't even being made with good faith by people on the other end. They destroyed the land, and then abandoned the people who had accepted the destruction of their land as the cost of prosperity. And once I saw it once, I saw it everywhere."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you every see the photos of trees those pioneers cut down? They were so big you could have hollowed them out and built a house inside them. I've seen so many photos like that. You ever see a tree that big that wasn't a redwood in some special park?"

"No, dad, I haven't." Owl answered carefully.

"Your grandfather did though. But I didn't and you won't. You won't ever see a passenger pigeon either. Rhinos and tigers are almost gone, and people are still hunting them. And you know why? Because they're almost gone, that means they're worth more! And we won't stop. It doesn't matter if we melt the ice caps, if we poison the ground water, if we kill off all the honey bees. We won't stop. Because we always need more."

"It can't be that bad." Viper said with a shaky voice.

"There are over seven billion people on earth today." He said, "You know how many people there were in world in the year nineteen hundred? Just over one hundred years ago?"

"Six billion?" Viper asked.

"Five billion?" I ventured.

"Three billion? Owl asked bitterly.

Owl's dad shook his head.

"Just around one and a half billion. It's like a plague, sweeping across the land destroying everything. And realizing that is what broke me. And now, that plague is devouring itself, because there's nothing else left. It's be funny if my wife and my son weren't stuck in the middle of it."

"So what do you think we should do then Dad?"

"I think you should take your Mom and run. I want you to convince her to clear out, to get away before everything falls apart entirely."

“Dad, I tried to convince Mom. She says we have a better chance here with our food stores.” Owl said.

"Is it really going to get that bad do you think?" Viper said.

"I think that by the end of this, that deer is going to look like one of the lucky ones." He said looking at the skinned carcass hanging from the tree dripping blood.

When we got back from the hunt we were all feeling weird. Owl’s Dad tried to hug Owl, and Owl actually let him do it. Viper kept giving Owl these weird looks that looked like resentment and sympathy and fear all rolled together. I looked at Owl’s dad in a whole new light myself. He knew a lot more than Owl had ever led me to think. And I think I understood why Owl was so bitter about his Dad. He had tried to do what Owl wanted to do, and he had failed. He couldn’t hold his dream together and Owl was terrified- I think- that the same thing was going to happen to him.

Once we got back to Owl’s house, Owl’s mom had made us move a bunch of her food stores out to a hunting cabin that she and Owl’s Dad used occasionally. Owl’s Dad helped. He had already moved a bunch of his food store there a little while ago.  They were both pretty sure nobody else knew about it. Owl’s mom said that it was insurance, because she didn’t trust the council anymore. It looked like a lot when when moved it. But when Owl’s mom counted out the calories and explained how many calories you needed per day I realized that it was just enough to Owl and his mom through the winter.

The next day, when we went to see Mildred, we found her with tea already steeped and ready. He face was clenched as though she were holding herself under control.

“I have very bad news.” She said, once we had started our tea. “I need to send you out to see our mutually annoying friend, Bartholomew. He says that he has something he wants to tell you, and show you apparently. I am fairly certain, he has shown me already, but he asked that I not ‘spoil it’. I suspect he is going to ask for your assistance some matter. I do not like how Bartholomew works, to much flash and noise, not enough accomplished. But he does what he thinks he must and he he pays the price himself.”

We arrived at Bart’s hideout and he let us in quickly. Bart was looking really thin these days. I could tell that he wasn’t getting enough food, and probably not enough sleep. I didn’t know what else to offer him, and he wasn’t about to turn himself in. I think the wanted to be a martyr.

“What’s the big news?” Owl asked.

Bart shushed him and led us to crates that served as his sitting area and pointed for us to sit. On one of the boxes was an MP3 player with a set of portable speakers. Bart hit play on the MP3 player and we listened. I could hear Mr. Winter’s voice, Mr. Wolf’s voice and my mother’s voice.

"Food hoarding is now the most dangerous crime possible."

"Food hoarding isn't a crime." Mom sounded very tired as she said it.

"That is what this measure will change. Food Hoarding puts the needs of the individual over the safety, security and even the survival of the group. We cannot divide food equally and fairly if some people are hoarding food and then lining up for more. We must therefore, outlaw the hoarding of food, lest some people's greed lead to hunger for more honest families. And that brings me to the second big thing. I want my men to bring their arms with them on patrol."

"You want me to issue weapons to untrained personnel?"

"In the first, these men aren't untrained. In the second, no. We want you to allow these men to carry the firearms that they already legally own while they carry out their duties. We already have approval for the carrying out of those duties after all."

Bart hit pause on the player and looked at us with his sunken eyes and hollow cheek bones.

“So there you go.” He said, “If you weren’t afraid before. You should be afraid now.”

We were silent as we took this in.

“I need you to get this to Raven’s dad.” Bart said.

“Wasn’t he at the meeting?” I asked.

“Oh yeah. He doesn’t need it so that he will know. He needs the recording to rally resistance against them. They’ll need to hear it themselves before they’ll act. But hurry, the further this goes, the harder it will be to stop. Obviously I can’t be seen outside, I’m a ‘wanted criminal’ now. So I need you guys to to do it, my Secret Tribe- my secret weapon. Run this to Raven’s folks and they’ll know what to do.”

It didn't take long to get to Raven's house. Raven’s parents listened to the recording, while we explained that Bart thought they could use the recording to rally support.

Raven’s father nodded, “Nobody is listening at the meetings. Winter thinks Mr. Wolf and his thugs are enough leverage to keep everyone in line. This may be a tiny town, but the citizens far out number the thugs. Even just a small percentage of the town were to make a show of their outrage, I think we could remind Winter that she can’t do whatever she likes.”

I didn’t like where this was going, but I had to ask, “What do you mean?”

“I mean a protest. A show of popular dissent. Like Martin Luther King Jr. or Gandhi.”

Raven suddenly looked worried, “They used fire hoses on Martin Luther King’s protests sometimes didn’t that dad?”

“This isn’t Mississippi, Honey. That said, you kids should stay out of the way. I do expect this to get quite heated. But even so, these are our neighbours. We’ve got to try. I don’t like the idea of descending into autocracy without a struggle.”

Wolf shook his head, "You're really smart sir, but this won't work. My dad isn’t holding back much anymore.”

“If civil discourse doesn't work, then we aren't a civil society anymore. I can't give up on the idea that society will work if given the chance.”

Raven's parents left us to get things organized. They went from household to household playing the tape to every family that they thought was sympathic. The next day we watched from a reasonable distance as a group of about two hundred people, led by Raven's parents marched to the Town Hall.

Raven's parents stood at the front of the crowd. Raven's dad had his arms crossed across his chest.

Raven's Mom was holding a sign that said "This is not democracy".

Mr. Wolf stood opposite to them, with Them lined up behind him. He pointed at the sign.

"You're right. This is not democracy. This is survival. Democracy is for times of peace. Even the Roman Republic new to appoint a single ruler during times of war."

Raven's mom snorted, "And that cost them their republic when Caesar wouldn't give power back."

Mr. Wolf grinned.

"This is an illegal gathering and you will disperse. Now. Do not make me to use force to maintain order."

Raven's Dad shook his head.

"There isn't a single part of that statement that isn't deceptive. Illegal assumes you have legality on your side, which is highly in dispute. And assuming that us opposing your actions somehow forces you to take any action is simply untrue: the statement of abusers the world over. You are a petty dictator and I do not think you will be remembered as fondly as you expect."

"We'll find out. Now, am I to assume you won't disperse?"

"That's right. You're going to have to beat unarmed non-violent protestors into submission if you want us to move."

"If you insist. Let's see how well that works for you.” Mr. Wolf said and nodded the men behind him, who raised their nightsticks. “This isn’t the first world anymore. The media isn’t watching. Nobody is watching. Public opinion is not on your side. Without that, your little acts of helplessness have no leverage. You cannot protest without an audience to horrify. If nobody is watching, if nobody is pressuring change from those you wish to influence; your protest only succeeds in making you an easy target."

I watched my mother. She didn't say anything and didn't move from her position. I hated this position we found ourselves in repeatedly watching from a distance as the adults we new and grew up around became more and more insane. I couldn't watch, the sound alone would give me nightmares for years. The wet smack and the crack that accompanied it, repeating over and over again. I heard a lot of people cry in pain. Although I didn't hear Raven's father. He didn't make a sound.

Later that night as we sat around the dinner table, my parents talking as though nothing had happened, I sat in silence. I realized that I hadn't moved only when my mother prompted me.

“Finish your food dear, you need your strength.”

“Really?” I asked in a carefully neutral voice, “Do I need it to beat people for disagreeing or to run from people who might do that to me?”

“Rabbit, show your mother some respect.”

“Did you ask her what happened at work today, Dad? She watched the union people assault a group of our friends and neighbours. And she let it happened. They weren't doing anything wrong except disagreeing with the 'Interim Emergency Council' about letting the union carry guns. I guess we should all be grateful that the union guys didn't use guns on them, since apparently that's okay too. Is this what being Chief of Police means mom? Is this really okay?”

"I can't do this without Tailor.” My mother said slowly, “I have no back up. I can't fight them directly. I'm going to have to cooperate and hope to steer them. Otherwise I'm committing political suicide. Tailer was right, they have us outnumbered and outmaneuvered. I'm going to have to make a deal with the devil, and I don't like where this is going."

“Mom, people could have died today. All so that Mr. Wolf could prove who's in charge. I think things have already gone somewhere I don't like. If we haven't reached a place that you don't like, then when will we?”

"I didn't expect things to fall this far, Rabbit. I know you don't like this. But as your mother, I have a duty to do what is best for you. As police chief, I have a duty to do what is best for Safehope. These aren't choices I wanted to make, but the alternative is raw anarchy unleashed in our tiny little town. This is nasty and brutish, but at least its still civil. I don't know if this makes sense to you. But perhaps, when you have children, you will understand my motivation."

I shook my head, "Mom, you're siding with the bad guys on this."

"Owl, there are no bad guys. There are only people doing the best they can."

"Sometimes Mom, that's all it takes to be a bad guy."

Both Raven's mother and father had concussions and were suffering from vertigo if they tried to stand. The thing that constantly unnerved me about the slow transformation of the town and how we lived, was that every time the council dealt with somebody, there was no fanfare. All the people who had attended the protest were taken to the hospital to treat for bruises, fractures and concussions. And once there, they were placed under what the signs on their doors called, 'House Arrest', to be moved to 'secure locations' as they recovered. The guards at the hospital doors wouldn't let us talk to them and nobody would tell us what a secure location was, or where it was either. Raven moved in with her Grandmother and Grandfather while her parents were in the hospital.