“This is a disaster for the entire region. We have no other source of water. We’re working with the provincial and federal governments to try to figure something out, but for now, all we can do is truck in water.”
“Mr. Mayor, has the pipeline operator been in contact with you?”
“Oh, they’ve made some noises about how unfortunate this is. Unfortunate? This is their attempt to cover up their incompetence. I’ve been concerned for years about that pipeline. And I’m not alone. Having it cross an important river is the height of corporate greed. It should never have been allowed, and believe me, it will never re-open. And we’ll make sure the company pays.”
“Mr. Mayor, we’ve heard comments that this looks like sabotage. Have you heard anything about that?”
“Excuses. Probably made up by the pipeline operator. But even if it was sabotage, that’s not our fault. If the damn thing hadn’t been built, there’d have been nothing to sabotage.”
“Bob, that was the mayor of Deptville, who pinned the blame on the operators of the pipeline. We’ve tried to reach them for comment, but nobody would appear on camera. They did issue this statement. ‘We regret the incident with respect to our pipeline. We are diligent in following the highest standards of pipeline operations and safety and we will be investigating to determine the cause of this unfortunate event.’ That’s it, Bob. No admission of responsibility and no indication of help for the residents downstream.”
13
RETRIBUTION
Darius sat in the small kitchen with Sarah and her parents, the aromas of mule deer stew laced with potatoes, yams, carrots, and cauliflower simmering on the wood stove. Sarah and her father, Andrew, sat at the table with him while Olive, Sarah’s mother, stirred the soup and stoked the fire in the stove.
He had come here after he left Mandy’s bar. He needed an oasis of calm, of reflection. The three hours of jogging to get to Andrew’s village helped, but just walking in the front door was a relief. This place always soothed him. Everyone else around him had been hardened by work. Their hands callused, their faces lined with the ravages of sun, time, and dirt. Any questions he asked were met with blank stares or impatient shrugs as if his concerns were foolish. Useless relics in a hard-scrabble world.
Andrew and Olive were different. Before the Collapse, Andrew had been a banker. All Darius knew was that people gave Andrew their money to store for them. Since Andrew hadn’t stolen it or used it for himself, Darius had to conclude that he was either honest or stupid. On one occasion, when he asked Andrew why he hadn’t just taken the money, the man grinned and said, “Service fees were more profitable than theft.” Darius hadn’t understood, but that wasn’t unusual. Much of what the older adults said eluded him.
Andrew’s hobby, one that gave him a secure place in his village, was first aid. He could bandage wounds, splint broken bones, use antiseptics he learned to make from common plants. Over time, he learned how to deliver babies and how to embalm the people he couldn’t cure.
If Darius didn’t understand Andrew’s job, Olive’s was a complete blank. She had been what they called a financial planner. Apparently, that had something to do with telling other people how to handle their money. All Darius could figure out was that people had more money than they needed.
“Darius and I are going for a walk,” Andrew said.
“Dinner is almost ready. Don’t be long.”
When Sarah started to rise, he shook his head. “This is between us guys.”
Darius knew what was coming. The lecture. It was time for him to settle down. Time to marry—Sarah, of course. Time to think of his future. Future! Spending his life scratching in dirt to raise just enough vegetables or grain to feed a small family. Freezing through the winter. Breaking his back behind a team of horses in the spring. Baking in the sweltering heat of the summer or cowering under shelter as hailstorms ravaged the crops. Sweating in the fall to gather the remnants of grains and vegetables that, once he handed half of it to the Peaks, would barely keep him alive until the next planting. That wasn’t a future. Yet it was all that was available to him. He steeled himself to be polite.
“Darius, you’re going to have to make some decisions.”
“Yeah, so I’ve been told. More than once.”
“Hey, Darius, I’m not talking about marriage or responsibility, I’m talking about what you’re going to do with your life after today.”
“After today?”
“I guess you haven’t heard. The resistance has just got word from the Coordinator. The Peaks are closing the Calgary detachment.”
“Closing? What do you mean?”
“I mean closing. Shutting down. Moving out. They’re leaving. No more Peaks in Calgary or anywhere around here.”
Darius stopped walking. The Peaks were as much a part of his life as the spring floods, as the hail that smashed crops, as the locusts that devoured what was left. “I don’t understand.”
“Darius, there won’t be any more Peaks here. They’re gone. We can get along with our lives without always having to fear that knock on the door. We’re going to be free of them.”
“But, but why? And who’s going to take care of the looters. or collect the taxes?”
“The looters? You remember the last time a looter gang tried to hit your village? The villagers killed three of them and stuck their heads on poles. They never came back. When they tried to attack us, we killed five of them. We didn’t chop off their heads, but we were tempted. And don’t forget the natives. Rumour has it they captured a bunch of looters and barbecued them. I doubt that’s true, but the story alone has kept them away. Besides,” Andrew added, “the looting gangs needed gas for their bikes. When they couldn’t steal any more, I figure they just disappeared.”
“Yeah, there haven’t been any raids for a few years now.”
“And there won’t be. As for the taxes, nobody will collect them. We won’t have to pay them anymore. Besides, the dirt farms around here just don’t produce enough to support a Peak detachment, so even though I hate to say it of them, they’re taking the cost-effective approach. They’re pulling out. Once they’re gone, we all get to keep what we grow. Perhaps we can even start a small economy among the villages. We can start to develop. Darius, this is a great time and we owe it largely to you.”
“To me? Why?”
“Over the years, you’ve demonstrated to the Peaks just how unsafe this area is for them. They can’t even relax in their barracks. Your last attack just proved that.”
“That wasn’t just me. All kinds of people did that. Josiah and Harold and Mrs. Cuthbert and Mr. Willoughby and—”
“I get it. The attacks were a team effort. But you were the quarterback, Darius.”
“The what?”
“Never mind. I just meant that you were the person who delivered. You carried out the attacks. You were the linchpin.”
Darius didn’t know what a linchpin was and as for a quarterback, that sounded painful. But he got the idea. He was also beginning to understand what Andrew was saying. No more Peaks. Part of him said he should be delighted, that he should celebrate, but what he was feeling was disorientation, loss. Why? He hated the Peaks. But he also needed them. They were a target for his hate. No Peaks? The thought of it opened a chasm in his soul, an emptiness he had no idea how to fill. He said, “The only thing I’ve ever done is attack the Peaks. I don’t know how to do anything else.”
Andrew laughed. “You sound like my brother, Roald. He lives on the West Coast and he’s as much of a threat to the Peaks there as you are here. Look, Darius, this is a good thing. It’s a great thing. I know this will take some time to sink in, so let’s get back to supper before Olive preserves the stew and lets us go hungry. Stay overnight. Tomorrow, you can go back home and think about what comes next.”