Chase This Light

by Francis Gideon

  “Really? I never knew that.”

  “Yeah, it’s a bit ridiculous right now. The nuance is lost in the policy language…. But you probably didn’t come here to hear me talk politics.”

  “Well, no, not really, but I like learning these things. Helps me to acclimatize better and get a sense of the place,” Jason said. He’d skimmed some of the local newspapers when he got the job here to test the waters. Not a lot of people liked his company back in Toronto, but that was standard. What really mattered were the local politics. From what he could tell, the leadership here was conservative, but there were small groups that often protested or became upset about policy issues, like Pete had said. Jason had been briefed by his bosses to expect pushback, but he hoped it wouldn’t be from the one person he was interested in.

  “You said we, though,” Jason went on, trying to focus on something more tangible. “Are you indigenous?”

  “Inuit and First Nations, yeah.”

  “I’m not quite sure what the difference is, if you’ll forgive my ignorance.”

  “Don’t worry. Not a lot of people do. Inuit are the people everyone thinks lives in igloos; my dad is Inuit and from a reserve in the Northwest Territories. My mom is First Nations, which is basically a catchall term for indigenous people who are not Inuit or Métis in Canada. She’s part of the Tagish, which is the same group as Skookum Jim, hence my breakaway role. I spent most of my time on a reserve with her, but went to school elsewhere. Now I’m here.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “And you?” Pete said. “You’ve moved from a big city, yeah?”

  “Pickering, which is part of the Greater Toronto Area. I usually just say Toronto. It’s the place people know.”

  “I do know it. But that’s a big move. Not to be taken lightly.”

  “Well, we needed a change of scenery after Micah’s mom died.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it,” Pete said. Pete’s voice was sincere, but it wasn’t the same type of sympathy that Jason was used to hearing. Every time he talked about Alison’s death, people clasped his arm and said they were so, so sorry for his loss. But it was always clear from the tone of their voice that they believed he and Alison to be married with kids. With Micah. The reality was something so different, and Pete, from the way he tilted his head and furrowed his brows, seemed to sense that, even if he didn’t know for sure.

  Maybe that was why Jason decided to risk telling him half the truth. “We… his mother and I were never together. Not really.”

  “I’m still sorry to hear it. For both yours and Micah’s sake, since she obviously meant a lot to you both.”

  “She did. It’s a long story, and kind of a bummer I don’t want to get into right now, but I appreciate the understanding.”

  “Of course.”

  The two of them stared at Micah, who was now laughing with the young girls.

  “He’s a great kid,” Pete said. “When we finish up, you and I should make sure he really gets to participate in finding some of the marks. I want to be sure he gets some of the extra hard ones before my boss demands I spend more time with other kids.”

  “Yeah, of course, that sounds good. I don’t want to keep you from your job.”

  “You’re not. I wanted to have a break.”

  “Good. So….” Jason bit his lip and tried to cool his nerves. “What do you think about having dinner sometime soon? Maybe tonight, since you got us lunch, I can buy you dinner?”

  “That sounds wonderful. I’d like it a lot. I just can’t tonight.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m not lying to get out of this, though. I actually have a meeting to go to after work.” Pete’s dark eyes were sensitive and earnest. Jason was good at picking out someone’s tells—including his own damn lip biting—but Pete was natural. Normal. He did want to hang out with Jason, maybe even do something more, just not tonight.

  “That’s okay. I should be unpacking more, getting Micah ready for day care, and you know, starting my own job soon and….”

  Jason was cut off by the brush of Pete’s lips against his cheek. The kiss was so soft and short that Jason barely registered what had happened until Pete rose from their picnic area and gathered their empty plates.

  “I really do want to see you again,” Pete said, “so we’ll plan a date soon, okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Sounds perfect.”

  Jason was still smiling by the time he tucked away the blanket and grabbed Micah from his new friends. He didn’t think he’d stop smiling until the sun went down.

  Chapter Four

  PETE OPENED his locker door with a slam. The clean up after the scavenger hunt had gone on way longer than he expected. A few kids had torn up some of the flowers around the front looking for gold, which Pete knew would happen and tried to warn people about, but Nadine Lennox, the museum owner, had insisted on having the BBQ in the front area. So while she lectured the staff on letting things “get too out of hand too quickly” Pete didn’t have time to actually fix the damage.

  Now, an hour after his clock-out time, his jeans and work shirt were covered in dirt. He shrugged off the uniform polo and tossed it into the back of his locker, promising himself he’d clean it later. He pulled on a collared shirt over his tank top and did it up in the mirror. He smiled at the owl tattoo on his inner arm his father had helped design for him. Pete wondered, albeit vaguely, if Jason had anything hidden under his clothing or up his sleeves.

  “Hey, Pete.”

  Pete shook himself out of his daydream. Nadine stood in the workroom, hands on her hips. “You still looking for a job next season?”

  “Yeah, I am.” He’d dropped off his extension paperwork yesterday. He had no idea that she’d go through it so soon, but he was relieved. “Does that mean the government grant came through?”

  “You bet. Come mid-September, we’re partnering with the Whitehorse Gallery. They want to set up some Inuit painting sessions and a couple staffers to write and produce a few more interactive shows on the famous artists. We could use someone like you.”

  “Thanks. Sounds good.” Pete had long grown accustomed to being treated as the stock Native guy. If it opened doors, instead of closed them like it normally did, he knew enough to be happy.

  “Great. I’ll leave the paperwork in your mailbox. Sign it by Tuesday, okay? This will mean a pay raise for you, by the way.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll sign it right now.”

  By the time Pete shut his locker, Nadine was long gone and so were most people but the afternoon and evening crew still doing the interactive shows. The sun had sunk low on the horizon, the days getting shorter and slipping through his fingers. It was a race he already felt like he was losing, especially as Cameron’s texts seemed to only increase. Pete took another five minutes to read the new employee contract, sign it, and put it in Nadine’s mailbox before looking at his phone.

  Where are you, man? Cold feet?

  Not even close. Just movin’ up in the world, Pete responded. Wait for me. The station?

  Yeah, yeah, like always. See you soon.

  Pete unlocked his bike from one of the storage sheds and headed out into the approaching night. By the time he reached the former train station terminal, it was already dark. He locked his bike up at the back of the building then knocked on the door.

  Andy, one of the founding members of The Environmental Crew, answered. His throat tattoo always made Pete shudder. It was a bat across his Adam’s apple, wings spread around his pale skin. Each time he spoke, Pete always braced for the squeaky echolocation calls or ominous cries. Instead, Andy’s soft voice and slight French accent ushered him inside quietly.

  “You’re late,” Cameron said from his chair. He smiled even as he shook his head.

  “I’m right on time. Shush.”

  Cameron wrapped Pete in a standard too-tight hug and gestured to some of the empty seats. Andy took his spot in the worn down recliner so Pete was left with the lawn chair. Joe and Josh, twin adjunct p
rofessors from the local university, sat on the couch, along with Heather, a cashier at a grocery store. Marla and Tyler sat cross-legged on the floor with a map and a couple paper reports Pete hadn’t seen yet. Marla and Tyler were Inuit like Pete, though they were from a different reserve.

  The Environmental Crew was a small political group that had formed almost a decade ago. Cameron had been there since its inception and was the unofficial leader. He’d started in Greenpeace in the early nineties, then became part of the Animal Liberation Society in SoCal. But a trek to Alaska when he was twenty-nine years old had changed his mind about where his loyalties should lie. He moved to the Yukon and started to raise awareness about climate change, the ozone layer thinning, and oil spills. These three matters were still the most discussed among their small group, although other issues like high food prices, sustainability, hunting licenses, and other matters were also important talking points during their informal meetings.

  Pete had joined the ranks three years ago when he first moved away from the reserve permanently. All other times he’d tried to leave the reserve before then, he’d only lasted a month before going back. His sister told him he missed the community, and that was why he came back (because it sure as hell isn’t the view, she’d follow up with; their reserve bordered a highly protested garbage dump used by the city). Pete knew she’d been right. When he tried to move away three years ago, he’d thought it was going to be another seasonal adventure at the tannery or the fishery. Instead, he’d shown up at the fishery to try and get his old job back and walked right into Cameron, who was protesting. The two had coffee (fair trade, of course) and talked for long hours about the politics of the indigenous population and the notorious garbage dump Pete woke up to see every morning. Cameron introduced Pete to Marla and Tyler, and though they didn’t always see eye to eye on many issues, The Environmental Crew became the home and community he’d been searching for. Andy helped to get him a job at the Klondike Museum every other season, Cameron helped find his apartment, and Heather helped them all get food at a slightly cheaper price or free from dumpster-diving.

  Three years later, Pete was still going to meetings, still talking about the environment and political issues every Saturday, making zines once a month, and going to protests whenever he could, even if some of the issues they discussed seemed like old talking points. Much of his youthful rage had dissipated when he found people who understood him and a home outside the reserve. Now, at almost thirty years old, Pete just wanted to hang out and have a good time.

  “Should we put on some music?” Pete asked. “Maybe some Earth Crisis for Andy?”

  Andy nodded, a pleased smile on his face. Pete didn’t wait for anyone else to respond. He rose from the lawn chair and found the stereo that was from the early 1990s in the corner. The abandoned train station had only been their hangout for the last six months. Pete expected, when the weather got darker, they’d go back to Andy’s basement, even if his mother was annoyed by them more often than not.

  The first song on Earth Crisis’s album Slither hummed to life. The speakers were a little static-y, but still functional. When Pete took a seat in the lawn chair again, Cameron was waving his hands furiously as he talked to Joe.

  “You didn’t get the blueprints? How did you not get the blueprints for the building?”

  Joe shrugged. “Seemed like a cut-and-dry mission. We can’t be within thirty feet of the building, so we’ll be in the parking lot protesting. It’s the safest thing to do.”

  “But it matters where the execs’ windows are. If we’re fighting the fracking company, they have to see us. Humanize the town.”

  “Shouldn’t we stick to pamphlets, then?” Heather asked. “If we want to humanize, I mean. A lot of yelling will just make us seem angry.”

  “We tried the pamphlets and zines,” Cameron said. “They didn’t work. Big Business never reads them. So we need to start going onto where they live and getting in the way. Ruining things, like they’re trying to ruin our drinking water and earth.”

  “But they haven’t started fracking yet, have they?” Josh asked. “I thought right now it was just an idea.”

  “If a company is there, they’ve started,” Cameron said. He gestured toward the papers in the center of the room, wadded up and wrinkled on a coffee table. “Haven’t you been following the news story? The minor election?”

  Marla shrugged. “Boring. They’re not saying anything.”

  “Boring, yes, but you have to read between the lines in order to understand it.” Cameron picked up one of the newspapers. He cleared his throat before reading off some details about local politicians talking to one company—Eakon Oil—the one that was currently there. “They deal in mostly crude oil and natural gas from the typical means, but they’ve recently expanded their operations and hired a bunch of new staffers. That means expansion, which means fracking, since it’s changing the economy. Always follow the money. You find out more that way.”

  “But aren’t there laws against this?” Tyler asked. “Environmental protection standards?”

  “Not anything that people can’t get out of,” Joe said.

  “That’s why you have to follow politics too. Because this elected official”—Cameron pointed to an ancient-looking man serving on the city council—“is going to be bought or bargained with in some way. Money, money, money. Tax dollars. Pay attention to what’s not being said here and where it all leads.”

  Pete nodded along, though some of what Cameron said went over his head. Pete already knew the damaging effects of fracking too well from seeing it in other communities. Bad drinking water. Earthquakes. Risk of fire, explosion, death. Not to mention the way in which fracking seemed to be the Band-Aid solution to the falling economy, one that would only put the Yukon and all of the North into more peril in the long run.

  Sometimes, though, Pete felt so small in stopping all of these efforts. How could they make a company like Eakon Oil stop what it was doing through fancy signs and chanting alone? It seemed near to impossible. And even if they stopped this company, by some chance at a miracle, they’d just pick up and go elsewhere. And the problem would be the same as it was before. Climate change was an issue so close to Pete, but at the same time, he’d become numb to it.

  “Okay, okay,” Joe said after Cameron had lectured for a while. “I see your point. But I don’t think we need blueprints to know where the execs’ offices are. I saw an interview one of the company’s presidents did online. If I can get a photo of the office, then I can figure out what time of day it is based on the sun—and voilà, we know what side of the building we should aim for in our protest.”

  “Excellent. Please do that,” Cameron said. “We want to have this protest ready for Friday, so they can think of it as they go into the long weekend. What do you guys say?”

  There were some murmured approvals. Pete felt his phone vibrate. He was surprised when he saw Jason’s name and number come up.

  All right, little man is tuckered out now. So I had time to check my work e-mail and wow, I had neglected it too long. I want to have dinner with you, but it looks like it won’t be until Friday night. Which is still good, right? Or are things happening at the museum?

  Nah, nothing’s going on beyond 8 at the museum, so I think I’m good. :)

  “Pete.”

  Pete startled. Cameron’s stare bore into him. “You paying attention?”

  “Totally. What’s up?”

  Cameron sighed, pinching his nose as he did. “You good for the Friday protest? Or do I have to recap all the details?”

  “No, no, I’ve been paying attention. But. Um.” Pete glanced down at his phone. Jason was already replying to his dinner date. Shit. “As long as the protest is in the afternoon.”

  “Of course it’ll be in the afternoon,” Cameron said. “All the execs will be there. In fact, the earlier we do this the better. What about at 11:00 a.m.? We can catch them all before they go for lunch.”

  The room murmured
more approval. Jason’s messaged buzzed in his phone. Great. See you Friday night at 8:30, then, to be safe. I’m still working on finding a sitter for Micah, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.

  Sounds good. Looking forward to it.

  Pete sighed and tried to calm the sudden butterflies in his stomach. When he zoned back in to the current conversation, Cameron was droning on again. He outlined how fracking would work in the Yukon even though most people in the room—especially the adjunct professors Joe and Josh—probably knew anyway.

  “And the polar bears,” Cameron said, gesturing with his hands. “Have you seen the recent photo where one is practically skeletal?”

  “It’s a female,” Josh said. “They’ve been going hungrier faster than the males since they’re usually the one roaming for food, and then finding none. Things are going to get a lot more difficult, though, especially with hibernation coming up.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Pete said, thinking of one of Nadine’s lectures during a staff meeting earlier in the season. “It’s one of the main reasons why there are so many camps funneling kids into the museums. It’s harder to have wilderness programs now. Not to mention, when Halloween comes, no one will be allowed to dress up like a bear just in case.”

  Cameron nodded, loving the input from everyone involved. “I can totally see Lennox busting a gut over that. Well, this is great. I’m so glad everyone’s on the same page. People have to know about this. The Yukon is beautiful and it’s going to be destroyed. It’s already being destroyed. I’m not tolerating fracking anymore.”

  “Yeah,” Pete said. “Me either.”

  Chapter Five

  JASON SIGHED at the numbers on his computer screen. He hadn’t even been here for a full week yet, but it already felt as if it had been months. The Eakon Oil Company was one of the leading distributors of natural gas and crude oil in Canada. He’d worked for the same company when he was in Pickering, only his role had been much smaller, in the payroll office.