He shrugged.
Limpopo said, “I think we’ll figure it from there. Once we’ve got the wagon we’ll be more mobile. I’ve been checking other walkaways around and there’s plenty who might take us in, but everyone’s also worried they’ll be next.”
“They should be,” Pocahontas said. “We’ve seen this playbook before. It’s Idle No More all over again.” The old First Nations protest movement gained momentum over a period of years, banking down to embers for months at a time, then exploding in fiery gouts of smart, savvy events that were so well-turned that even the totally pwned default media couldn’t ignore ’em. Idle became an international shorthand for effective revolt and street protesters from Warsaw to Port-au-Prince to Caracas declared solidarity with it and used its iconography.
Until, in a series of coordinated swoops, the RCMP, Canadian army, FBI, and CSIS simply scraped Idle off the planet. Every significant leader taken away in chains, except for the ones who died in gory shootouts, choreographed violence framed by slick logos and sinister arpeggios to accompany the tense standoff coverage that led the feeds. The trials that followed revealed a network of informants and double-dealers inside the movement. That left the sidelined supporters feeling like patsies for supporting a group that had, apparently, been led by double agents.
In walkaway circles, Idle were still heroes. There were plenty of veterans living in walkaway. In the rest of the world, Idle had come to stand for the danger of discontent, an object lesson in how people who fought back couldn’t offer any alternative, were riddled with traitors and useful idiots, always and forever doomed before they started.
“Sure feels like it,” Limpopo said. She’d been there when Idle and early walkaways were on the verge of merging. “Now you mention it.”
Pocahontas said, “I think we should go to Dead Lake.”
“Why? They don’t need more trouble.”
Her snort of derision was epic. “They live in the bush, surrounded by air so toxic it can’t be breathed. Their neighbors are about to get napalmed. It doesn’t get worse.”
Limpopo nodded. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, be smart. They know the area in a way that none of us do. They’re likely to be in the cops’ cross-hairs, because they’re Idle vets and they hang out with us and they’re inconvenient witnesses. No one who mattered would give one single fuck if they were purged. They’re our friends and allies. We need those.”
“I’m sold.” Kersplebedeb sounded more energetic, but he was still shaken. A chorus of voices on the short-range radio joined him.
“Let’s go,” Pocahontas said, and Gretyl pointed her toward the cargo wagon.
[XVII]
LIMPOPO WATCHED JIMMY fade. He’d lagged from the start, struggling with frostbitten toes in unwieldy snowshoes. He’d rallied when she took his pack and redistributed its contents among the group. Then he flagged again. She tapped his suit and opened a private channel.
“We’ll put you on a travois, tow you.”
“Don’t be stupid. You’re already towing those two fucking mercs and all this other shit. You don’t need to shlep me. Time’s wasting. I know where you’re headed. Just give me an extra battery and let me catch my breath, I’ll get to you in a day. If you move on, tell me where. I can look after myself.”
“We’re not the marines, but I don’t like leaving anyone behind. Those assholes are down the pit for now, but there’ll be more along and there’s safety in numbers.”
“No there isn’t.”
She shrugged. “There’s some safety in numbers. We’re not defenseless.”
“You’re also not particularly frightening.”
“We’ve scared someone.” She slipped his arm over her shoulders, took his weight. “Let’s have this argument while we walk, or we’ll get separated from the main group.”
“I’ve done really stupid things.” His voice was flat.
“Welcome to the human race.”
“What we did with the B&B—”
“That was a giant dick move, all right.”
“But the new one was even better, I hear.”
“It was. Gone now, of course.”
“Of course.”
“But the improvements got saved into the version-control. The next will be even better. Every complex ecosystem has parasites. Come on.” He’d slowed again, and his breath was rasping. Privately, Etcetera messaged to see if she needed help, and she pulled down a “go on, it’s okay” autoresponse with a flick of her eyes.
“I think I need a rest.”
“Let’s rest, then.” She dropped her pack, and helped him into the snow. He hissed in pain when she loosened his snowshoes.
“That bad?”
“It’s okay.”
“Don’t be an asshole.”
“It’s bad.”
“Better.”
She felt anxiety about the group getting away. She knew this was the right thing to do. If they couldn’t all make it together, they sure as shit wouldn’t make it separately.
“You know, I got recruited to turn traitor,” he said, after a long pause.
“How’d that go?”
“After the B&B collapsed – the original one, I mean. Guy met me on the road while I was heading for the US border. I thought I’d find these people who were bunkering with guns and canned goods, see if I couldn’t get them to bug in and save other people, instead of bugging out to save themselves. I’d heard about places where there were drug-runners’ tunnels you could slip through.
“I was on the road, three days. I’d set up a pop-shelter and was getting dinner on, scop out of a fab, when a woman turned up in my camp. Quiet as a ninja, dressed in tacticals, little side-arm I didn’t recognize on her hip. She invited herself over, squatted down next to my stove, warmed her hands. Looked me in the eye, said, ‘Jimmy, you seem like a smart guy.’ Which was funny. I’d fucked up on a colossal scale, taken something beautiful and turned it to shit by trying to impose my ideas on it.
“I get smartassy when I’m stinging, so I said something like ‘You should get out more, if I’m your idea of a smart guy.’
“She laughed and unclipped a squeeze flask. I smelled that it was good Scotch, Islay, smoky. She drank, passed it. It was good. ‘You had the right idea, but didn’t have a chance with that place. Too many fifth columnists working to undermine you. I was inside their network from day one, watching them closely, and I could show you chapter and verse how they fucked you. They say there are no leaders, but if you dig into it, it’s easy to see what Limpopo says, goes. She doesn’t give orders, but she sure as shit gets people to do what she wants. But you know that.’”
“What did they offer you?” Limpopo felt strangely flattered to learn she was subjected to this kind of scrutiny.
“Money at first, but I could tell she knew that wasn’t what I wanted. Then she offered me oppo research and support for getting back at you, which was the clincher for me.”
“You took her up on it?” This was beyond any confession she’d anticipated. She didn’t know whether to respect him for making it or smack him for his sins.
He laughed bitterly. “Are you fucking kidding me? You know the joke: ‘I’m here because I’m crazy, not because I’m an asshole.’ By the time the B&B collapsed under me – after getting into a fist-fight with a guy I thought was my best friend! – I figured out whatever problems I had were my own, especially since your new B&B was running fine a couple klicks down the road. It was an incontrovertible A/B split. The idea I would try it again, using this asshole merc’s intel to try and fuck you? I was an asshole, but at least I knew if it came down to a fight between this fucker and you, I’d be on your side.”