The Mother Earth Insurgency

by J. G. Follansbee

“I'll bet you are.” Unsteady, he sat back on the couch.

  “The problem is power,” Georgia said. “The rich have too much. The poor not enough. We need to speak up for the 99 percent of people who feel powerless.” She hadn't had much of the bourbon. “That's why I'm here, Jon. That's why I'm following you.”

  Janicks swiveled his head to Georgia. “I know,” he slurred. “And you love me too.” He swallowed the last of his bourbon, laid his head on Georgia's lap, and he snored.

  Nick watched Georgia stroke Janicks' hair, and he swallowed a mote of jealousy. He agreed with her at a certain level. He'd seen powerless people in South Asia, scraping by day-to-day, avoiding the bullets and bombs tossed by both sides in the asymmetric war. He often wished he could go beyond the rules of engagement, maybe take out a gang leader, or a corrupt official who was bleeding people dry. Corporations back home did the same thing, but in a fancier, sophisticated way.

  A half-hour passed. Janicks didn't move. Georgia winced at his awkward position on her leg. Nick reached over and kept him from falling on the floor, while she eased out from under her lover. Her hair brushed against his face as she said, “Thank you.”

  ◆◆◆

  Janicks woke everyone up at first light. After a cold breakfast, the horses were readied. Nick took a mental inventory of the gear. An item had been added. One of the canvas coverings was a different shade of green than the others, as if it had been protected from the weather.

  “I don't know anything about you people.” Tilton's breath steamed in the morning cold over his folded arms. “I've never seen you before. Somebody broke into my shed and stole the explosives.”

  Janicks nodded.

  “Promise me something,” Tilton said. “I don't care what you do to the turbines.” He paused. “Or anything else. But no one gets hurt. I want no part of that.”

  He and Tilton shook hands.

  As the MEI's horses and hikers rounded a curve in the trail, concealing them from Tilton's house, Georgia halted. “We really ought to leave a thank-you gift, Jon.”

  Janicks regarded her for a moment. He reached into a saddle bag and removed a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey. “Back in a minute.”

  Nick sat on a stump. He heard a pop-pop. “What the fuck was that?” He knew the answer.

  “Shit,” Squirrel said, wide-eyed.

  Janicks returned. “Gift delivered.” He put the whiskey back in the saddle bag.

  “What the fuck, Jon?” Georgia pulled Jon away from the animal. “We need allies. How are we supposed to change things if we go around shooting our friends?”

  Janicks eyes fixed on the place where Georgia had touched him. “Tilton was an idiot. He was soft. He'd squeal to the dog catcher about us.”

  “But...”

  The terrorist slapped her, open-handed, across her face. She went down on one knee, whimpering. Nick was frozen in place, wondering if everything was falling apart, and he would suffer Tilton's fate. Squirrel was like a statue.

  Georgia turned to Janicks, rage and hurt like boils on her face.

  Janicks dropped to both knees beside her. “I'm sorry, Georgia. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Forgive me. I lost my temper.” He lifted her hand and kissed it, first on the back, then on the palm.

  After a moment's hesitation, Georgia's face softened, and she kissed Janicks on the cheek.

  A maelstrom of feeling flooded Nick, from relief to terror to an irrational happiness at the couple's reconciliation. The maelstrom dissipated, leaving a judgment that Janicks was a master manipulator. Georgia and Squirrel were completely in his thrall. Nick caught himself. He had a different purpose. If Janicks wasn't stopped, the Mother Earth Insurgency would grow like a tumor.

  The group said little to each other as they kept to a trail that wound toward the southwest into California. Nick put Tilton's killing out of his mind, along with other bloody images that gave him nightmares. He wondered if his great-grandfather had nightmares after he came back from Vietnam, or if his great-great uncle thought of the starving faces at Buchenwald in Germany. Nick's father never talked about his dreams, though he awakened his son in the middle of the night with his screams.

  After the couple with the three children were killed, Nick could not go back to fight the hajis a third time. The three faces haunted him likes ghosts. If only I had acted a little sooner...

  Angela could not imagine living with a traumatized husband. Other wives accepted the burden “for better or worse.” Angela couldn't. They'd been drifting apart anyway; she'd earned a degree in environmental engineering while he was on his second tour. SpaceLift needed new techniques for maintaining human habitations twenty kilometers above sea level, an environment almost as tough as the vacuum of space. Their parting was less painful than Nick had expected, perhaps because she let him see Jason whenever he wanted. On his lowest days, she'd send Jason to a friend, and let him stay the night.

  She never remarried.

  ◆◆◆

  Fortuna, population 11,000, sat on the north bank of the Eel River, which empties into the Pacific Ocean a few miles to the west. Nick pulled the stolen private truck into a fast food restaurant with a charging station. Janicks had ordered him to drive, not checking or not caring if Nick was licensed. The group had ditched the animals at the point where the overland trail met a chip-sealed road leading to the highway. Georgia and Nick pleaded with Janicks not to shoot the horses, and they succeeded.

  The afternoon sun brightened the hills to the north of town, where second and third growth Douglas fir covered most of the terrain once cloaked with redwood, fir, and spruce. On one of the ridges, Nick saw the target recommended by Squirrel. Three wind generators, their thin blades motionless, stood on the crest of the ridge like toothpicks with propellers, waiting to turn the powerful onshore breezes into electricity for San Francisco. While Squirrel bought food, Georgia watched the street. She sidled closer to Janicks as he adjusted the tie downs on their gear.

  “I'm worried,” Georgia said. “Someone's going to find Tilton. The bessies aren't stupid.”

  “Maybe we should lie low for a while, see if there's anyone watching.” Nick wanted to give his controller a chance to find him. His com implants were still blocked from sending or receiving signals outside his immediate compatriots.

  “We do the job tonight,” Janicks said.

  “No time like the present, eh, Jon?” Squirrel's eagerness was irritating, even to Nick. The younger man handed out overcooked tofu chunks, nacho chips, and thin carrot juice. “What are we going to do after the job?”

  Georgia hissed. “Cop car.”

  A sheriff's cruiser rolled by. Nick turned his attention to the automobile charger, pretending to watch the rising total. The local cops were likely looking for the stolen truck, but the cruiser ignored the terrorists.

  “Get back in the car, Squirrel,” Janicks said.

  Squirrel was fidgety. “You didn't answer my question.”

  Nick stowed the charger plug, and the station declared the bill paid.

  Georgia climbed into the back with Squirrel.

  Squirrel said, “Once this is done, I want to stay with you guys.”

  “We'll think about it,” Janicks said. “You need to get us to the turbines now. Which way?”

  Squirrel leaned back. He was quiet.

  Janicks turned around in his seat, angry, like Nick's father used to do when he was disobedient. “Which way?”

  “I want to be part of your movement. I want to take action, to make change. You, we, are going to make a big point here. I know other targets, up in the hills, and further north.” Squirrel leaned forward, like a kid hoping the adults in the front seat would give him a piece of candy. “This was my idea. I got you here. I know the site and the area. You can't abandon me after this job. Take me with you, wherever you're going.”

  Nick drove for a half-hour. From the road, the turbines materialized and dematerialized like specters, though they grew larger with each reappearance. They came to a
cattle fence with a gate posted “No trespassing.” Nick parked behind a grove of cottonwoods that hid the truck from the road.

  “Now we wait for the fog,” Squirrel said.

  “Fog?” Nick said.

  “Fog rolls in from the coast almost every night this time of year and sticks around until after sunrise, sometimes until mid-morning,” Squirrel said. “Sometimes, it never lifts. It's perfect cover.”

  Janicks opened the glove compartment, removed his pistol, and stuck it in a cup-holder.

  Hours later, Nick opened his eyes. Squirrel had touched him on the shoulder, and he did the same to Georgia. The young man left the car holding the backpack with the Seltex. The other canvas-covered package remained in the truck bed. Janicks said nothing about it, and Nick hadn't asked, though the leader was protective of it, like a favorite toy.

  The sky was the color of thin, black coffee with a confusing diffuseness. Light from a waxing gibbous moon struggled to get past the fog. Most of the photons got lost in the microscopic droplets of water. A delicate breeze stirred the murkiness.

  Squirrel set the backpack down by the gate. Five seconds later, he cut the padlock with a bolt cutter. It swung open with a screech that made Janicks reach for his gun. The noise faded and Squirrel motioned his three companions to follow, as if inviting them on a carnival ride.

  After a half-mile of uphill trudging, a faint fuzziness, like the full moon behind a high cloud, appeared directly ahead. It resolved into a floodlight that shone on a metal shed, about the same size as Tilton's explosives shed. Other shapes were a backhoe, stacks of construction materials, and piles of gravel. Squirrel played a flashlight beam on the objects. Nick grew aware of a faint, rhythmic, low-frequency whoosh, spaced in a sluggish drumbeat.

  “The blades.” Squirrel pointed his light into the fog deck. “They're turning.”

  “The turbines?” Nick focused upward, but saw nothing.

  “This way.”

  “What about surveillance?” Nick said.

  “These rural types leave their front doors unlocked. I'm not worried about it.”

  “Too late to do anything about it now,” Janicks said.

  The road continued past the shed. Ten meters later, Nick saw a gray shape, similar to the trunk of a tree, but smooth and painted. The dirt around the base of the turbine's tower was rough. A series of closely spaced bolts attached the tower to the foundation.

  “There's two more to the north.” Squirrel pointed into the darkness. “They're staggered in such a way that if one falls, it'll take out the other two like dominoes.”

  Above the four conspirators, the whoosh was louder, but it had the same rhythm.

  Squirrel stumbled down into the pit where the tower met the foundation. Nick and Georgia followed, while Janicks stood watch. From the backpack, the anarchist removed the Seltex. Nick held the flashlight on the package. Squirrel took a Swiss army knife from his pocket, unfolded a short blade, and made the cut, as Tilton instructed.

  Georgia held the pencil-like detonator. “Don't forget the tab.”

  Squirrel gave the Seltex to Nick, and the anarchist pulled off the tab with a smooth twist of his wrist, as if he'd practiced it in his mind.

  “Do you see it?” Squirrel asked.

  Georgia awoke her own com implants; Nick saw her avatar on the four-node network. Another node appeared, the detonator. She started an app Tilton told her to install. “It's there!” Her bright eyes were heightened by the flashlight's bluish glow.

  “Punch in the code,” Squirrel said.

  In his minds-eye, Nick saw the code entered as “*” characters. He remembered the gun in Janicks' hand at the demonstration. Here was another chance to stop a terrible crime. Last time, pure luck intervened. The situation below the turbine was completely different, but Nick was duty-bound to disrupt the MEI's plan.

  Nick couldn't sabotage the explosives; Georgia and Squirrel were shoulder to shoulder with him. Janicks stood guard a few meters away. “Are you sure we're not being watched, Squirrel?”

  “Cold feet, Nick?”

  Georgia turned to Nick. Perhaps she had doubts, or maybe she would ensure Nick followed through on his pledge to make “real change.”

  “Just a little nervous. I've never blown anything up before.”

  Georgia shook a little, from fright or the chill, Nick couldn't tell.

  “It's armed,” she said.

  Squirrel placed the Seltex charge on the tower's base. It was enough to turn the conspirators into small, bloody chunks if it went off too soon. He remembered Bobcat's warning to plan an escape route.

  “Let's give it some space.” Nick saw no way to stop the action without exposing himself. He clambered up the dirt. The others followed him to a pile of construction debris fifty feet or so from the tower.

  “I want to see it go,” Squirrel said.

  “You won't see anything in this fog,” Nick said.

  “Come on!” Squirrel said.

  “Let's get this overwith,” Georgia said. “Ten seconds…. Fire in the hole!”

  The explosion rent the air like a percussive knife and a flash of white light bounced off the base of the fog deck. Construction debris tumbled onto Nick. Dry vegetation caught fire, and the orange light flickered off the pylon. The explosion pushed a mass of dirt away from the pit, and scorch marks radiated upward and around the tower's base.

  “Fuck!” Squirrel said. “It wasn't enough!”

  “Let's get out of here,” Nick said.

  “Wait!” Squirrel said. “I left the bag at the pylon.”

  “Shit!” Georgia said.

  “It's probably in pieces,” Squirrel said.

  “You lost it,” Janicks said. “You get it.”

  Squirrel nodded and raced to the tower. Janicks raised his weapon, ready to shoot the anarchist in the back.

  There was a crack and a tearing, not unlike the sound aluminum foil makes, only deeper in tone. Bolts popped like bullets. Janicks lowered the gun, surprised.

  “It's coming down!” Squirrel yelled.

  Janicks, Nick and Georgia didn't wait for Squirrel. The fire offered enough light to see the road. Nick glanced over his shoulder. The tower leaned over, but not in the direction they had planned. It leaned toward him, Georgia, and Squirrel, falling toward the road, threatening to crush all three. Nick ran as if chased by a wolf, grabbing Georgia's jacket and pulling her along. She struggled to keep up. They had only seconds.

  “Wait for me! Please! Plea...” Squirrel tripped, and he sprawled on the ground. His flashlight rolled a few feet away, though it shone on his prone figure.

  The point of a wind turbine blade impaled him.

  The sight of a blade sticking out of the road like an arrow stopped Nick in his tracks. He heard a metallic snap above him, and he imagined the blade breaking where it met the rotor head. To his right, he heard a crash, likely the rest of the turbine hitting the group. Janicks and Georgia were far ahead.

  Nick turned to run, but the atmosphere was a wall of black. The falling turbine had taken out the lamp over the construction shed. Squirrel's flashlight, still shining, beckoned.

  Nick picked up the light and pointed the beam at Squirrel. The blade had hit him squarely in his sternum, and by the time the gravel road stopped its momentum, the blade had sliced him in two, as clean as a chef's knife.

  Nick swallowed.

  Janicks had come back. “Let's go. He was dead anyway.”

  They hurried to the truck. Nick shook his head to dislodge the impression of Squirrel's already opague eyes.

  IV

  With Nick in the driver's seat of the stolen truck, the trio headed into town, hunting for another vehicle, as local cops rushed to the wrecked turbines. Nick concentrated on navigating the unfamiliar streets, but the image of Squirrel's mangled body interfered, bringing back memories of the village deaths he blamed on himself. Did he again cause an innocent's death? Squirrel wasn't guiltless, but the sabotage wouldn't have killed anyone directly
. Perhaps he could've persuaded Janicks to find a different target, or tipped off local police, or called in the BES cavalry. However, he still didn't know Janicks' ultimate aim, though the canvas-wrapped package had something to do with it. The terrorist guarded it as if it were gold bullion, never giving Nick a chance to examine it.

  On the edge of town, Georgia singled out a private sedan. As she picked the electronic lock, Nick hoped she sent an inadvertent signal. The state vehicle registry would note the theft and the method, and the authorities might make the connection to the turbine sabotage. Or perhaps Georgia had a more cunning approach, misdirecting the authorities and his controller. Without com access, he had no way to know.

  The group switched vehicles every few hundred kilometers as they made their way south. Janicks said nothing about the destination. Neither did Georgia, which could only mean she already knew.

  As they gradually swung east, the kilometers ticking by, an awareness came over Nick as they skirted the remnants of Phoenix, its inhabitants decamped to areas with reliable water. They were going to a familiar location, even though he'd never set foot there. If Nick had a pair of binoculars, he might have spotted the structure a few degrees above the horizon.

  “Jon, I'm tired of asking you. Where are we going?”

  “Some place wonderful.”

  A chill went up Nick's spine, like the shimmers of heat off the desert. “Some Place Wonderful” was the slogan attracting the hyper-wealthy to the luxury apartments at the top of the SpaceLift tower. Angela was there, along with Jason.

  Were they in danger? Was it time to break cover? Nick hesitated. He still didn't know what Janicks had in mind. He needed to stay patient. He didn't want to give away his connection to the tower, if that was Janicks' target.

  The trio continued east, and once they were past Mount Graham, the tower resolved first as a vertical black line perpendicular to the horizon, then a gray/white line as the sun fell towards the Pacific Ocean. Janicks watched the object as if it were a lodestone, beguiling him with invisible magic. Nick had never seen it in life, only in pictures on the com net and from Angela. The tower's hair-thin profile resolved into pencil-thinness. An hour later, it resembled a tubular tower sunk directly into the ground. Nick stopped to recharge their pilfered van. He, Georgia, and Janicks could not take their eyes off the structure. Nick forgot the danger he faced, transfixed as the tower disappeared into the heavens, like Jacob's Ladder.