CHAPTER 25
SWITCHED
“Those sons-a-bitches!” swore Barns. “Four of my squad cars plus all the logging machinery from dozers to chain saws, all with screwed up fuel systems including carburetors. Not even the diesel engines work well enough to use, and they burn about anything.”
“So what?” said Skunk. “You can still serve the damn warrant or whatever and take over the place!”
“Idiot! The logging needs to start immediately thereafter to seal it!” hissed Fenster. “Once commercial logging is started and we have labor going on in there we’ll be politically unstoppable. If we just go in there with cops shooting those poor helpless damn Indians and not protecting law-abiding loggers there will be a publicity disaster. The damn loggers refuse to move without their damn equipment. Also, the media smells a story and is beginning to flock in, so we still need to do this as soon as we can, so we have to regroup first.”
“The screwed up engines ain’t the half of it,” said Barns. “You ever hear of Jake Morgan and Billy Wilson?”
“Two old busybodies from town,” said Fenster. “Why?”
“Dooley Simple and those two old men are at the Goth place now, and they apparently belong to something called 'Artistic License' that is made up of thousands of loony long-haired misfit tree-hugging artists. There are a couple hundred of them outside the Goth place already, outnumbering both loggers and cops, carrying signs and chaining themselves to everything in sight, whittling artsy stuff from sticks with pocket knives and covering stuff with slogans and flowers and so forth as they sing protest songs. Tree huggers the lot of them. Lots of reporters too of course. We’re already national fucking news! This is already a hundred times worse than that stupid story last year about those poor reservation Indians getting educated.
“There are also dozens of armed Indians inside the Goth’s fence, and that’s only the ones we’ve seen because they wanted us to see them.” He turned to face the forth party to their conversation. “You and Dark were supposed to soften things up inside. What ever happened to that?”
“You wouldn’t be anywhere without my help and you know it,” replied Small Bear calmly. “Dark is pure evil and he can’t be controlled. You don’t understand him.”
“Then there’s Johnny Goth,” said Barns. “What do you plan for him, Small Bear? Are you going to take up his challenge?”
Small Bear smiled, his dark eyes flashing. “Not alone and not unprepared. There is someone I need to speak with first.”
They were standing near an area of thick brush. Small Bear suddenly turned towards it and walked to its edge. “Come out, Soul Eater. We need to plan our revenge together.”
From out of the bushes stepped Dark, in human form. “If you have anything interesting to say, say it now. So far you have all only wasted my time.”
“What are you doing here anyway, Dark?” said Skunk. “Why ain’t you in there hunting down Indians and Goths?”
“Shut him up or I’ll kill him here and now,” Dark told Bill Fenster.
“Forgive them Soul Eater, they are ignorant white-men and don’t understand what we face,” said Small Bear. “Also, they don’t understand you.”
Dark laughed as he turned to regard Small Bear. “And you do?”
“Better than they do. They seek money and power, but they have no idea what true power is. You ARE power, eater of life. I too seek power, though my needs are very, very small compared to yours, and I have knowledge that even the Shaman and the Goths lack.”
Dark smiled. “So you say! Perhaps then we have something to talk about after all.” He turned his red eyes on Fenster. “There are some supplies I need first.”
“And there are some things that I need to fetch also,” added Small Bear.
“In the meantime I’ll get more logging equipment,” said Fenster. “I have a new partner from California with some influence in the logging business.”
Secrets of Goth Mountain Page 57