The Distant Echo of a Bright Sunny Day

by Patrick O'Brien

  “That…we’re the Environmental Police?”

  “No, silly. We engage them in conversation, see where they stand on environmental issues, and go from there.”

  “Okay. But I gotta tell ya, I feel like one of those people who hand out religious tracts. But if you think it’ll work…”

  “Of course it’ll work.”

  For the next hour, working in pairs, they canvassed the Park Blocks and a number of cross streets. Each time they came to an SUV parked at the curb, they slipped a pink flier under a wiper blade, and moved on to the next one. Within a short time, over a several square block area, the windshields of almost thirty vehicles had been festooned with an 8x11 pink sheet of paper, the contents of which amounted to an indictment of the car owner’s bad judgment and careless attitude.

  The only mishap occurred when Mike and Jody came upon a Ford Explorer equipped with a car alarm. As Mike leaned up against the fender and pulled back the wiper, the alarm suddenly went off, sending out a high-pitched tootling sound, similar to a child’s kazoo, throughout the quietude of a tree-lined street. Fortunately, the street was devoid of other pedestrians, and the two of them hustled off without being seen.

  At the end of the hour everyone met up at a designated spot. For some minutes, feeling they had indeed accomplished something worthwhile (and with Mitch suggesting they not push their luck), they debated whether to call it a day or to continue. But a number of fliers had yet to be distributed, and Heidi wanted to finish the job.

  “It’ll only take a few more minutes,” she said. “And there’s a couple of parking lots not far from here.”

  “That’d be trespassing, Tip. They can put you in jail for that, at least involve you in an embarrassing encounter with the police. I don’t relish either prospect.”

  “Nonsense, Mitch, we can have it over and done with before anyone realizes we were even there.”

  “We’ll just breeze right on through,” Jody said. “It won’t take more than a few minutes.”

  “It’s a chance I’m willing to take,” Mike said, with a note of superiority and reproach. “We need to keep things in perspective here. What is it compared to Mobley’s farm or to going all the way to Cleveland? A minor activity.”

  “Yeah, it’s all relative, Mitch.”

  Mitch sighed. He said, “Well, if we’re going to do it, let’s do it and get it over with.”

  The first parking lot they came to took up a third of a city block and extended from one cross street to the next. An attendant booth stood at the rear, against the brick wall of a four-story building, and from three feet above the ground provided a clear view of several rows of cars. Because of how the sunlight reflected off its windows, they couldn’t tell if anyone was inside.

  “What do you think? Might be someone home?” Mitch wondered aloud.

  Jody pointed to a pigeon-hole cluster of payment boxes at the far end of the lot.

  “It’s self-pay, Mitch.”

  “Right. So…?”

  “Let’s do a row apiece.”

  With the remaining leaflets divided between them, they fanned out into the parking lot. Over the next few minutes they tagged ten SUVs and several large pickups. When they were finished, each of the vehicles had one of the printed damnatory imputations stuck under a wiper blade.

  “That about does it, huh?” Mitch said, joining the others. He had passed out all his fliers and was ready to leave.

  “I have some left,” Heidi said. “And there’s a lot up the street.”

  “Maybe we should go. I think we have company.”

  The others turned and looked.

  A man in a business suit had just removed a leaflet from the wind-shield of a Cadillac Escalade. Holding it, he strode toward them in a brusque manner.

  “Just what the fuck is all this about, anyway?” he demanded, thrusting the leaflet at them with an indignation that made clear his intent.

  Heidi separated herself from the group. She walked up to him. Putting her hands on her hips, she looked up at him and said, “If you had bothered to read it, you would see what the fuck it’s all about. But since you haven’t read it, let me tell you what the fuck it’s all about…”

  “Don’t bother, little girl. I’m not interested in this kind of bullshit. But just who the hell gave you permission to come on private property, anyway, and decorate windshields?”

  “To begin with, it’s not bullshit. Secondly, it’s individuals like you, who can’t see beyond their own self-interest, who are responsible for environmental degradation. Think about it. Do you really need such a huge piece of machinery to haul yourself around? Do you realize how wasteful of the earth’s resources such vehicles are?”

  Portending an obvious relish leading up his response, a thin, mean smile spread slowly across the man’s face.

  “To answer your second question first, young lady, it’s not for you to decide for me what kind of vehicle I drive; that’s my prerogative. And as to environmental degradation, I’d say you’re the one being wasteful here, because nobody is going to read this crap—they’ll just throw it away. You’ve used up a lot of paper for nothing.” And, as if to prove the point, he wadded up the leaflet and tossed it aside.

  Heidi started to say something more, but, walking up to her, Mitch put his hand on her shoulder.

  “Come on, Tip, let’s go,” he said. “We’ve done enough for today.” And to the businessman: “Sorry for the fuss. We were just getting ready to leave.”

  “You’re damn right you’re just getting ready to leave. I’ll see to that…” And he took a cell phone from his jacket pocket and punched in a series of numbers. “Goddamn litterbugs, anyway,” he muttered.

  Picking up the leaflet he had thrown aside, Heidi said, “Is this what you mean by being a litterbug?”

  With the phone to his ear, he turned away.

  “Let’s just leave before there’s trouble,” Mitch insisted, again restraining her by the shoulder.

  Mike and Jody came up beside him.

  “We don’t need this kind of confrontation, Heidi,” Jody said soothingly, putting her arm around Heidi’s waist. “That’s not what we’re about. And Mitch is right, there’s no point in courting trouble.”

  “Yeah, Heidi, we need to keep the big picture in mind,” Mike added.

  Saying that just once she would like to penetrate the smug indifference of such individuals, Heidi allowed herself to be led away.

  § § § § § §

  Later that same day, with a mild breeze rustling the leaves of a Norway maple in the early stages of autumn coloration, the four of them sat around a lawn table in Heidi’s backyard. Over cups of coffee and sweet rolls, they critiqued the day’s events.

  “Overall, an A-minus,” Heidi said, staying cheerful and upbeat.

  “I would say we’re damn lucky we didn’t get ourselves arrested,” Mitch said bluntly. “And I’ll bet you one thing, from now on, there’ll be a sign in that lot prohibiting the distribution of any kind of literature, because that guy’s sure to raise hell about it.”

  “Occasional altercations don’t count, Mitch. They’re to be expected and they go with the territory. What really matters is the number of potential contacts.”

  “How many fliers get passed out, right?”

  “Right. Because we’re more concerned with that than with a minor incident. A minor incident doesn’t detract from the overall purpose, which is to provoke someone into thinking about the choice they’ve made.”

  “We provoked someone, that’s for sure.”

  “Someone like him is probably a contrarian, anyway,” Mike said with a laugh. “His views about the environment are unassailable and are stuck in a conservative frame of mind. He has no conception of the magnitude of the growing threat to the environment, and as long as he’s not personally affected, he couldn’t care less. In terms of our objectives, trying to convince him of the error of his ways is a waste of our time.”

  “To be sure,” Jody agreed. �
��But we can’t let knee-jerk reactions be an impediment to what we’re trying to accomplish. It’s important to keep in mind that we can get through to some people, but not to others—a perennial fact of life, unfortunately.”

  “I still say we should operate under cover of darkness. We could employ a kind of hit-n-run tactic in the wee hours of the morning throughout select neighborhoods so that the first thing a commuter sees as he starts off to work is a printed leaflet condemning him as an arch anti-environmentalist. It’s sure to make his day, especially once he gets caught in the early-morning freeway backup.”

  Mitch’s mock-sarcastic send-up evoked the remedial laughter called for by an underlying tension resulting from what the others knew, but did not want to admit, was a close call. Heidi, especially, welcomed the release of the anxiety she had felt ever since she had pitted herself against what she considered a stereotypical representative of the class of people blithely, if not willfully, indifferent to an environmental tilt toward disaster. She was still infuriated that she had not been able to ruffle the feathers of the interloper, but at least she now felt better.

  “Nonetheless, we have to think of ourselves as gadflies,” she said. “We have to sting a little.”

  “What has to sting a little?”

  Everyone turned and looked in the direction of the house. Ed, Heidi’s husband, coming around from the side yard, had just walked up.

  Close to forty, with a medium build and wearing a dark brown business suit over a white shirt and blue tie, he had thinning hair, a brown mustache, and wore wire-rim glasses. His features were evenly spaced and proportionate, and craggy cheek lines gave him a look of weathered maturity. Going by appearance alone, he might have been a courtroom lawyer, a general practitioner, or an economics professor.

  Heidi looked surprised, even embarrassed. “You’re home early,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you until five.”

  “I’m sorry. I came home early. Am I interrupting anything?”

  “No, of course not. We were just going over the day’s events.”

  “Oh…and what would that be? Another one of your ‘activities’?”

  “Leaflets—we were distributing leaflets.”

  Ed nodded knowingly. “The last time she did that,” he said to the others, “one of her crew managed to tag my car. This time around, I must have been parked out of range.”

  “Ed drives a Chevy Tahoe,” Heidi explained. “I’ve tried to talk him out of it, but, so far, no luck.”

  “It’s one of my few indulgences,” he said with deliberate candor. “And, when I’m out on the highway, it makes me feel powerful. I suppose you could get Freudian about it and say I’m compensating in some way, but I prefer the simpler explanation—as a city engineer, I frequently have to haul material of one kind or another. And I have to admit that it is kind of fun driving a large piece of machinery—it appeals to the boy in me. And if it’ll make everyone feel better, I have a THINK GLOBALLY, ACT LOCALLY sticker on the rear bumper.

  “The mail’s on the kitchen table. I think there’s a card in there from your sister in Seattle. Where’s Jennifer, by the way?”

  “Over at Mother’s. I’ll pick her up later.”

  He started to go back to the house, but paused. “I thought she had ballet today.”

  “I completely forgot. I’ll let her make up for it next week.”

  “Whatever. Look, I’ll pick her up myself, though; I want to stop at the store. Did you want me to pick up something for dinner?”

  “No need. We’ve got leftover casserole in the refrigerator. I’ll heat it up when you get back. And we’ll have salad to go with it.”

  “Fine.”

  Ed went up the back steps and into the house.

  “Maybe we should be leaving?” Mitch suggested.

  “Nonsense. He doesn’t mind.”

  “What were we talking about, anyway?”

  “I don’t remember,” Mike said. “But I do have to be leaving. I have a paper to prepare for a class tomorrow. It’s on a Dostoevsky novel…”

  “Oh, which one?”

  “The Possessed. Have you read it?”

  “He’s one of my favorite authors, actually,” Mitch said. “I’ve read most of his major works, anyway.”

  “I think it’s appropriate for the times. That’s the theme of my paper, anyway.”

  “That’s an interesting comment, Mike. Why do you think that?”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it? I mean, if you consider the number of tortured souls out there who’d like to see social upheaval and disruption. A radical alteration of society itself seems to be at the heart of so much of it. And it’s not only religiously motivated. There are so many others groups as well…”

  “Maybe we’re one of them,” Mitch joked.

  “Insofar as we’re wanting to effect change, yes, I agree. We are indeed advocating a radical alteration of social consciousness. With the difference being, of course, that we are not doing it simply for the sake of creating chaos, which was the motivation of Dostoevsky’s main character and the motivation of so many nowadays.”

  “Our motivation is constructive, rather than destructive,” Heidi interjected. “Peter Verhovensky wanted to create disorder and chaos because it mirrored his profound spiritual emptiness. According to Dostoevsky, by implication, he was a man without a god of any kind…morally and ethically rootless. His only consolation, if you can call it that, was to produce an atmosphere of terror and thereby hope to start a conflagration. And he did succeed in doing just that, though to a very limited extent.”

  “He left a few bodies in his wake, too, as I recall…”

  “Speaking of disgruntled individuals, I saw Rick last week,” Jody said.

  Heidi and Mike both showed surprise.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah…why didn’t you tell us, Jody?”

  “I was going to, Heidi. But this is the first time you and I have been together since then. Now seems like an especially appropriate time to mention it, though, doesn’t it?”

  “He’s the demolition guy, right? The ex-Marine?”

  “Yeah…the one who blew up the tower for us.”

  “Did he actually go to Arizona?” Heidi asked.

  “He did, for two months.”

  “Apparently, his fears were all for nothing.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Heidi explained: “We went off and left the spool of wire behind, and Rick was worried they might get prints from it. Rather than come directly back to Portland, he went to Arizona. He wanted to wait and see what happened first before coming back to Portland.”

  “So, then, nothing happened?” Mitch said.

  “That’s why we’re all still here.” Heidi laughed. “We’d probably be in jail, otherwise.”

  “It was a little dicey, then, huh?”

  “For a while, yeah. But everything’s okay now.”

  Mitch looked at Jody.

  “So, what’s this guy up to now? Is he planning to blow up the Interstate Bridge or another power plant?”

  “It was a cooling tower.”

  “I’m sure I know the difference. But, anyway…?”

  “I don’t know that he’s up to anything,” Jody said hesitantly. “But he’s got a friend that’s bent on proving a point. He wants to go out to Montana and shoot some rancher’s cattle because the rancher’s killing wolves. According to Rick, his friend has been very disturbed by this and wants to even the score, so to speak. Apparently, some of his ancestors were Indian and revered the wolf for its cunning, so he takes it very personal. Rick says he’s hell bent on teaching the guy to respect wildlife, even if he has to kill a few of his cattle to do it.”

  Laughing openly at the absurdity, Mitch said, “That’s crazy. You might as well take on the National Rifle Association as do something like that. Predators are always high on the list of trophies that hunters go after. Why would wolves be any different? The guy’s gotta be a little touched.”
r />   “Yeah,” Mike agreed, “that does seem pretty farfetched.”

  “But what is Rick going to do about it?” Heidi wanted to know. “Is he going along with it?”

  “According to him, he’s just trying to talk his friend out of it. But I don’t know. It sounded to me like his friend is pretty determined, and Rick thinks he may have to go along, just to look after him.”

  “Is this guy a psycho, or what?” Mitch asked, incredulous.

  Jody laughed off the question.

  “I’m just the messenger here, Mitch. I don’t really know anything about him. Apparently, they were in the Marines together, and Rick feels kind of protective of the guy. He was a sniper, and I guess he acquired a taste for killing.”

  “Yeah, but cows?”

  “Rick says he claims he’d be making an environmental statement. And I have to admit, as outlandish as it sounds, he’s got a point. It is, after all, about the destruction of natural habitat and its effect on the wildlife population. Furthermore, when you stop and think about it—”

  “You’re gonna tell us about people who vandalize research labs to save the rats and that kind of thing, right?”

  “I’m not trying to convince you of anything, Mitch. I’m just presenting a possible rationale, and one that has its precedents.”

  “It may have its precedents, but none that I’ve ever heard of,” Mitch retorted and looked at his watch. “But what do you think, Tip? You haven’t said anything? You either, Mike.”

  “What’s to say? It’s a crazy idea.”

  “Maybe. But it’s certainly original, isn’t it?”

  “Do I hear a faint intonation of acceptance there, Tip?”

  “No, Mitch.” Heidi dismissed the question with a laugh. “But it’s not completely off the wall. And it certainly would get attention.”

  Mitch looked at his watch again.

  “Okay, I’m outta here,” he said. “I can see right now where all this is going, and I’m going to spare myself the necessity of having to make any further comments.”

  He stood up. “I mean, Mobley’s farmhouse was right on the verge of the acceptable. But this crosses the line.” He started to walk away.

  “Are you still gonna see Lisa tonight, Mitch?” Heidi called after him.