South Village (Ash McKenna) (28 page)

“Y
ou’re alive!” I yell, rushing forward and trying to throw my arms around him, before realizing they’re still behind my back. I turn toward him. “Little help?”

He pulls a small knife from his belt, flicks out the blade, and cuts the zip ties. I turn and give him a proper hug. His eyes look sunken, his skin waxy, but he’s all there.

“Guys,” Tibo says, pushing us apart. “We kinda have to go. Right now.”

Aesop frees Tibo, takes the gun, and puts it into the belt loop of his pants while I pull some zip ties out of Gideon’s pants and bind his hands behind his back, then his ankles together. He fights against it but he’s not going anywhere.

“You fucking assholes have no idea who you’re fucking with,” he says, spitting.

I kneel down to him and smile. “You are very lucky I wouldn’t hit a guy who’s tied up. Because, frankly, you deserve it.”

“Help!” he screams. “Help!”

Well. That’ll serve to draw the FBI. We make for the back road and there’s a car parked behind Aesop’s. Presumably the one Gideon was using. The trunk is popped open and inside are two handguns, a shotgun, a hunting rifle, a pile of zip ties, and three canisters of gasoline. There’s also a duffel bag covered in dirt.

The dirt. Cannabelle’s hands. They must have had this stuff buried out in the woods. She saw it, went rooting around, ended up dead. Good money is on Marx. Me and him are definitely going to have this one out.

“Should we take some guns?” Tibo asks.

“None for me, thanks,” I tell them. “I don’t like guns.”

Tibo shrugs and picks up the shotgun. “Never hurts to be prepared.”

He cocks it and a shell ejects, tumbles through the air, and hits the ground.

“Does no one here know how guns work?” I ask.

Aesop takes the shotgun out of Tibo’s hands, cocks it until all the shells have been ejected, and hands it back. “Use it like a bat if you need to. But I’m not getting shot because you don’t know how to use a gun. I’m going to hold on to Gideon’s.”

I hand him his keys and we climb into his car. As he turns over the engine, I tell him, “Stop.” Jump out of the car and run my hand under the wheel wells. On the right passenger side is a small black box, connected magnetically to the underside of the car. I toss it out into the woods.

“FBI was tracking you,” I tell him.

“Fuckers!” Aesop yells.

He slams on the gas, spins the car around, and guns it in the other direction. Within moments we’re tearing ass down the road, away from the main road. I haven’t been this way before. We drive for a little bit until we’re on another service road, and he cuts a hard left.

“So what happened to you?” I ask him.

“Since I only ate a little and puked it up, I was pretty much fine,” Aesop says. “Lots of charcoal and fluid and tests. They wanted to keep me in observation but I told them to fuck off. We talked it down to some follow-up tests in a week to make sure my liver function and electrolyte levels are good. I feel run down but I think that’s more from not sleeping well in the hospital.”

“Glad you’re back in it. Especially given the timing.”

“What about you? How are you doing?”

“Been better, but I’m not seeing snakes and bugs everywhere I look, so that much is nice.”

“Hello? Hello.” I turn, thinking Tibo is talking to me, but he’s on his cell phone. “Ford, it’s Tibo. Listen, we have a problem. That thing we were talking about before? We found them. You need to come meet us.”

He gives the town and road we’re headed to, and clicks off.

“So, what now?” Aesop asks.

“We keep going,” I tell him.

“You mean we try to stop them.”

“We’re already on the road,” I tell him. “We might beat Ford. They’re aiming to hurt innocent people. We can’t sit by and let that happen.”

Aesop smiles. “That works for me.”

W
e stop at the end of a long dirt road leading up a hill. There’s a sign for the project at the foot of the road. METCO ENERGY, with a bunch of laminated permits stuck up underneath that. To the right, there’s a wide expanse of nothing, just flat land stretching to the horizon. To the left, a long line of trees.

Aesop pulls the car into the trees, until we’re well off the road and out of sight. We don’t speak.

It feels good to be with Tibo and Aesop for this.

Even if it’s a stupid fucking thing to be doing.

But until Ford gets here, it’s up to us.

The ground is flat, and we walk in deep enough that we can still see the open field to our right. We march single file, Aesop in the lead, since he’s the one who actually has real-life experience with stuff like this.

After a little while he stops and puts his fist up.

I look off into the distance, but it’s more trees and forest and open space. He flattens his hand and lowers it, then folds to the ground. We follow suit, and he crawls forward. I follow behind. The canopy is thick enough to keep most of the rain off us, so the ground is wet but not saturated. Tibo struggles a little, dragging the empty shotgun along with him.

Aesop cuts a path to the right, going slow now. As we get closer to where the forest turns into open field, I can make out shapes. Then, trailers, and finally the full construction site. The tree line circles around a little, like a hook, bounding us in.

There are three trailers in total, all of them close to us. Over by the road, there’s a bulldozer and a backhoe, sitting quietly as they’re pelted by the rain. They’re dwarfed by something that looks like an oil rig, but I guess is for fracking. A giant erector set of steel, sticking a few stories into the air. It looks half-finished. There’s a crane next to it, and big neat piles of thick steel rods, and sheets of metal, and a cement mixer.

The place looks abandoned. But then someone comes around the trailer. Someone I haven’t seen before. Tall guy, broad shoulders, blond beard and dreadlocks wrapped in a rainbow bandana. He’s got a hunting rifle held tight to his chest. Given the way he’s dressed I peg him as a Soldier rather than a proper security guard.

There’s more movement around the tower. I tap Aesop and point. Trigger Warning Katie is hauling a propane tank, which she places at the base of the fracking thing.

We watch the sentry for a little bit. He’s walking a clear path. Once he makes his fourth circuit Aesop gets up without warning and runs to the trailer, staying low, waiting at the point where the sentry is going to pop into view next.

My heart slams in my chest. I fight to keep my breathing steady. I’ve seen some shit but I’ve never been in a situation like this before. Thank Christ for Aesop. He moves with complete confidence, like this is what he does all day.

With him on our side, I feel like we actually have a shot.

The sentry comes around the bend and Aesop moves so fast it’s hard to keep track. He grabs the rifle, jabs the barrel into the guy’s face. The sentry’s nose erupts and he goes down as Aesop waves us over. Tibo and I get up and follow, running to the spot where Aesop chose, out of view of the fracker and the windows of the trailers. Aesop has the guy on the ground, wrapping him up in the zip ties we took off Gideon, the rainbow bandana already shoved into his mouth.

Aesop presses his gun against the guy’s head.

“I’m going to take this out of your mouth and you’re going to tell me how many of you there are, and where you’re holding the security guards. Understand that you would not be the first person I’ve killed. So no fucking around on me, okay?”

Aesop pulls the bandana out. “Where are the guards?” he asks.

“Second trailer. The one next to this one.”

“You understand what’s going to happen if you lie to me?”

“Yes.”

“You understand that you’re a bunch of stupid fucking kids and I’m a Marine, correct?”

Pause. Then he nods. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Aesop shoves the bandana back in his mouth. We go to the edge of the trailer and peek around. There are now a couple of people at the fracker. Magda and another guest, a stocky, bald-headed guy in jean shorts and a tank top. I think he’s from Ohio but I don’t remember his name. They’ve each got propane tanks, which they’re loading around the base of the tower.

“Here’s the play…” Aesop says.

He’s cut off by the roar of an engine. For a second I’m thankful, thinking maybe it’s Ford come to the rescue. But it’s a ragged black pickup truck, no lights or sirens, and it comes to a stop next to the far trailer. Out climbs Marx. He’s annoyed, looking around like he expects to see something but doesn’t. He pulls out his phone, dials it, holds it to his head. Waits a minute and shoves it back in his pocket. Probably waiting for Gideon.

Marx pulls two gas cans out of the back and proceeds to the trailer with the hostages and pours gasoline around the base of it. There’s a gun tucked into the back of his pants.

“What now?” Tibo asks.

“We stall until Ford gets here.” Aesop turns to me. “You and Tibo, head over to the tower. I’ve got Marx.”

“Why do you get Marx?” I ask.

“I understand that we all want to kick his ass, but we can’t be greedy now.”

“Fine.”

Tibo and I wait until the coast is clear and Marx has turned completely away from us, and we take off at a run toward the fracking tower, dive for cover behind a pile of steel beams. We look over and Aesop is moving quietly behind Marx, who now has an unlit road flare in his hand.

I take the gun from Tibo.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m way more threatening than you are.”

“Fair point.”

We come out on the other side of the construction equipment. I don’t like holding the shotgun but I feel better about it not being loaded. It makes me miss the umbrella I used to carry. The steel rod with a Kevlar top. It felt far less aggressive. And it would be way more useful right now, given the rain.

We find Magda, in a green sundress and green shawl and green ceramic jewelry that clacks as she gestures to points around the derrick, instructing Katie and the other guest to place bags of fertilizer.

The sound of the rain covers the sound of our footsteps, so we get pretty close to them and they still haven’t noticed we’re here. I clack the shotgun, not that it makes a difference at this point, and they turn.

“Ash,” Magda says.

“That’s me.”

“What are you doing?”

“What are
you
doing?” I ask.

“What’s going on?” Katie asks.

“Shut up,” I tell her, swinging the gun in her direction. None of them seem to be armed, which is good. I nod to Tibo. “Tie them up.”

Tibo goes to each one of them in turn and zip ties their arms behind their backs, then says, “Get on the ground.” They follow his order, and he lashes their ankles together, too.

“You’re just tools of the fucking patriarchy,” Katie says. “You know that, right?”

“Don’t use words unless you know what they mean,” Tibo says. “If anything, we’re fascists.”

“You know we’re not actually fascists, right?” I ask him.

“You are fascists,” Katie says. “Defending a system that’s killing you. Do you know what this is going to do to the surrounding environment? You’re going to wake up one day and find the water at South Village isn’t drinkable. What then?”

Tibo pauses. Thinks that over. I can see the wheels turning. He shakes his head. “Doesn’t mean you kill innocent people.”

She smirks. “No one is innocent.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” I tell her, then turn to Tibo. “Now let’s check on Marx and Aesop.”

We book it back over to the trailer. We round into the clearing between them and find Aesop is on his knees, Marx holding a gun on him. Another guy, tall and lanky and balding, is holding a rifle on him. The sentry is here too, untied and back in the game. It’s raining hard now, getting in my eyes and mouth, turning the earth around us into giant pools of mud.

“Well, that went to shit quick,” I say, and point the shotgun at Marx.

He points the gun up at me. The sentry points his gun at me, too. The third guy, Lanky, keeps his gun trained on Aesop.

“Sorry, guys,” Aesop says, hands in the air, glancing down at the road, hoping for the same thing I am: That Ford will come tearing up here with backup.

“It’s fine,” I tell him “I’m not going to let you live this down, though. This fucking dickhead with his stupid fucking hat getting the drop on you.”

“My hat isn’t dumb,” Marx says.

“Yes it is,” I tell him. As I say this I inch closer to him, thinking maybe I’ll get close enough that I can swing the gun. Something. Anything. Because it’s not like I can shoot him. At least he doesn’t know that.

“You know the cops are on the way, right?” Tibo asks. “I called the sheriff.”

Lanky and Sentry look at each other, suddenly nervous.

“I’ll tell you what,” I say to the two of them. “If you get going now, you’ll have a head start. You might even get gone before they get here. Wouldn’t that be nice? Live to save a whale another day.”

Sentry shakes his head. “Fuck this. I’m done.”

He throws down his gun and runs for the trees.

Lanky grips his gun tighter and points it at me.

Well, I evened it up a little.

“What exactly do you think you’re going to accomplish?” Tibo asks. “You’re not going to change anyone’s minds. You’ll end up in prison if you’re lucky, and dead if you’re not, and the world will hate you. Nothing will change.”

“We have to try,” Marx says.

“So terrorism is the answer?” I ask.

“It’s not terrorism if it’s done for the right reasons.”

“You are so full of shit,” I tell him. “You and your fucking fantasy about your parents. The FBI knows all about you, and the lies you’ve told. It’s kind of pathetic.”

This makes Lanky pause and narrow his eyes. And it really pisses off Marx, to be found out.

“The only thing that matters is results,” he says, nearly spitting. “And we’re about to get some. We’ll sacrifice ourselves for the greater good if we have to.”

We stand there in the rain. Aesop on his knees, looking for an opening. Tibo behind me, with no idea what to do. Lanky with his gun on Aesop, Marx with his gun on me.