15
Mine, mix, fill, place, tamp, tamp, tamp, tamp, tamp.
Donezo. With phase one at least. Walls were up, and a two-by-twelve bond beam ran across the top to tie it all together. Still needed a roof and stucco, but Cap wanted to give it a week to let the top rows fully cure.
The unanimously celebrated stopping point gave space for reflection. Just a month ago, they were looking at a barren rock in a sea of barren rocks, the finish line impossible to fully envision. But slowly and surely, their hard work and determination paid off as they constructed a new reality, one grain of sand at a time.
The respite also afforded room for speculation, what was next for the out of work migrants? Cap would be here of course, he was just getting started with his vision of Captopia, and everyone else was welcome to stay for as long as they wanted, especially considering the ambitious size of the sophomore dormitory. The work wasn’t enough to scare off the alumni, it was actually quite gratifying to witness the conversion of energy into mass, but the winds were blowing and change was coming to the hill.
The Hammock Brothers had only intended to stay the week, just a pit stop along their world tour, perhaps this had even been their vacation. The timing of everything prompted them to confirm their departure, they were headed off to a pipeline resistance camp between two and twelve hours away, and there was space in the van for anyone who wanted to tag along.
“Fossil Corp,” informed Levi. “The biggest and baddest energy conglomerate of them all, not that you can hardly distinguish the individual alignments of malintent, so they might as well represent whichever path of destruction is snaking its way through your neck of the woods.”
“Yep,” she corroborated. “They’re all the same. All in on it together. Sharing intel and lobbyists, and a twenty billion dollar security budget. A win for one is a win for all, but that also means that a single defeat is felt across the grid.”
“Big time,” he continued. “And they’re already running scared as their stranglehold on society is losing its grip. They’re vulnerable and they know it, and our movement’s only getting stronger, as more and more people wake up to the crisis at hand. It’s about to come crashing down in a big way, and they’re scrambling to maintain the illusion that it’s not, but the time for damage control is over, and we’re not just here to take back our own planet, we’re here to take her forward.”
“They’re desperate though,” continued Paul. “Which means that they’re more than willing to pull some shady shit. Standing Rock was a testing ground to learn how much domestic terrorism they could get away with under the noses of patriotic America, and it turns out it’s quite a bit, but I doubt they have any intention on stopping there.”
“You heard anything about what it’s been like up there?” asked Spaz.
“Just a bit,” Paul replied. “Think there’s about a hundred people already at camp, and more coming, they put out another call last week for Water Protectors, wink wink.”
“I’m listening,” she engaged.
“There’s the usual hoopla, you know, lockdowns and teargas and stuff, but it’s really just getting started, on both fronts, this could end up being the next big one. And from what I can tell, the community’s united in a beautiful way, people talking about the vibe and the energy of the place, maybe it’s something like what you guys felt out there.”
“Very interesting,” she said, as she stroked the only smooth chin on the mountain. “Do tell more.”
“That’s about all I know really. There’s a laundry list of violations and unquestionably bad ethics, but after a while, you kinda go numb to the gratuitous disregard of it all. Then there was another list of supplies they need, figure we’ll load up on the way. Also they said they were looking for some people who were good at climbing, that was the post that really got me signed up, who knows what kind of adventure we’re in for. I figure if we leave at sunup, we’ll get there before dark tomorrow night.”
“That soon?” lamented Cap. “But I was just starting to like you guys.”
“Makes sense to me,” consoled Annie. “It is the new moon after all.”
Miles hadn’t noticed, though now he could feel the tingle of her elusivity. It was nearing on dusk now, twelve hour notice, a far cry from the two of his forgotten dream girl, but last minute enough of an invitation to give him a mild heart attack, unless that was just last night’s deep fried piñon falafel.
He was here to learn how to live. To learn how to listen. To find his path as it unfolded around him. He wanted to make a difference in a world he’d almost given up on, unsure of what to do and paralyzed by the unknown, but that Miles was fading quickly into the snowcapped horizon. The last month had inspired him to no end, from all sorts of angles, he had toughened up and yearned for his own experiences of impassioned heroism.
And here pops up a ride to camp, with trusted friends, at precisely the most opportune moment. Miles couldn’t help but listen. It was a little uncanny when he thought about it all. So he didn’t, he tried to tune into his heart, but all that got him was wondering what she was gonna do.
The air was thick with what-ifs and possible itinerary changes, even Cap was considering taking a week off, Miles was lost in thought as he retraced his steps.
“Hey bud,” Spaz coaxed him back into the moment. “You still wanna go on that hunt? I’m good either way, but it’s kinda the perfect time for it.”
“Ooh yeah, you boys go fetch us something decadent for tonight’s celebratory extravaganza.”
As if Miles could refuse her while the tiniest sliver watched from the shadows of the tangerine sky. But whose transition would they be celebrating exactly?
They’d been out birdwatching a handful of times, even managed to catch a glimpse or two, but Tom had thus far evaded the sideways glance of the boomerang’s scope. Spaz made another, hand-chopped it with his hatchet knife, he was still getting it dialed in, shaving the lift angles of the propeller until it flew the way he wanted, so Miles got to wield old trusty in the event of catastrophic success. Timpsileh sat this one out, they’d figured out early on that while she may be able to outhunt them, she didn’t like to let anyone else take a shot.
They always started the quest with a prayer and an offering of tobacco, Miles wondered if they should be leaving more. There were a couple of favorite perches with clear lines of sight into the riverside oasis they’d discovered a few weeks back, they posted up at the closest and waited for the wind to carry a tune of white meat.
After ten or fifteen, Spaz picked the front door of Miles’ brain. “So whatcha thinking about this whole Fossil Corp thing?” he whispered.
“I don’t know what I’m thinking,” it was the truth. “Thinking that maybe I should go. You?”
“Same. I’d really like to see the dirthouse all the way through, but at the same time, I know just how constructive the energy of resistance can be. And they are in more dire need of help than Captain Overalls up there.” A term of endearment, most assuredly. “I guess we’ll see how it all shakes out, sleep on it or whatever, at least it doesn’t take me long to break camp.”
“Pack light.”
“Pack light.”
Spaz suddenly grew more alert, was it a feather in the wind or just a chipmunk sneaking past?
After a moment of silence, Miles added a few cents. “It’d be kinda hard to leave this place though. I’ve felt more alive here than anywhere else in my life, and you all feel like family, don’t know if I’m ready to walk away from that yet.
Is this what being a nomad is always like? Every time you find a place that feels like home, you have to up and leave at a moment’s notice? Over and over again?”
“I mean, I guess that’s one way to look at it,” Spaz conceded. “But it also means that you develop relationships and places to call home all over the map. You’re far less homeless than those who settled on an empty life of settling. And the more you travel, the more you start to feel at home wherever you are, you carry it with you, and you can share it with others along the way.
And yeah, you might find yourself with a last minute flight, which honestly, is harder for the family you leave behind, than for those who depart. But, it also means that you’ll eventually circle back around for a supercharged scene of reunion, and when you’re walking down the right road, it always seems to drop you off in the most opportune of moments.”
Another unknown rustle slowed the flow, probably just a turtle running by. Spaz gave it a second before he continued.
“That’s how it’s been working for me at least. Ever since camp, I’ve been roaming around, way off-grid a lot of the time, and I’ve managed to coincidentally resurface just in time for two different weddings, where I got to hang out with friends I hadn’t seen in a decade. And it’s always a fun surprise when I pop up with more stories from the road. Or from the frontline. And it always feels like we never skipped a beat, as we pick up right where we left off.
It’s been a bit tougher with my blood family. They think I’ve gone crazy as I abandoned the world we grew up in, why on Earth would I put myself on the line for somebody else’s water a thousand miles away? And it’s not something you can just tell someone about, you kinda had to be there, so I can’t expect them to understand, I don’t even understand it half the time, and they don’t want to, not really. So because of all that, I hadn’t seen my sister in over two years, or her kids. Even when I was stopping through to visit other family, she just wasn’t ready to face the hurt that my disappearance had left, so it only grew.
Anyway, wasn’t trying to be a debbie downer there, I was actually going somewhere miraculous with this, kinda. So two of my biggest prayers have been to reunite with my sister’s family in a good way, on her terms, with patience and understanding, and that if my mom were to get sick, that I would be connected enough at the time to get word. She’s always been healthy and everything, no cause for concern, but as she gets older who knows what could happen, and who knows how to get ahold of me in a mountaintop dirthouse surrounded by a sea of desert?
So last spring, I happened to be passing through the state. Just for a night, so I was only going to visit one friend, who happened to be picking up another friend from the airport close to where I grew up, so I tagged along. I checked my email from their phone on the way and then logged back out, but it must not have taken, because an hour later in the airport parking lot, they got a notification meant for me.
My mom had had a stroke. Out of the blue. I mean yeah, she eats the same sodium rich processed diet that everyone else out there does, but she was relatively active and healthy and prescription free.
So here I am, receiving this transmission without even being signed in, in a nearby city for the slimmest window, at the exact moment that my sister is driving through on her way to the hospital. She scoops me and there’s no hard feelings anymore, we’re united in our concern for mom, none of that other stuff matters.
“Was your mom okay?”
“I guess so, I mean she had a stroke, so that’s never a good thing, but she’s young and a fighter and seemed to bounce back pretty quick. She had to stay in the hospital for a week, and of course everyone else had to run off to work and stuff, everyone except the homeless crazy person whose life revolves around being where he is needed the most. It was beautiful man, I got to be there all week watching soap operas and game shows and other colonial propaganda, and there’s nowhere else in the world I’d have rather been.
And then when she got paroled, we both went to live at my sister’s for a couple months, and it was awesome. I got to be a part of the kids’ lives in a real way, and me and my sister were as close as ever, as we came together for mom. And ever since then, we’ve been in this great place where I can come visit whenever I’m near, and I’m not there as a weekend tourist like I was before all this, I get to be a genuine participant in their actual lives.
Both prayers got rolled into one, a blessing in a hospital gown, and all because I listened to my internal navigation and walked in the moment.
So yeah, it can sometimes be a little unsettling as you free yourself from expectations, but who wants to settle for an expected tomorrow, when you can live in the magic of now? And once you see for yourself that our paths are interwoven, it’ll be way easier to let go of yesterday’s fading dream.”
“Probably no coincidence that we had car trouble next to the grilled cheese spot, huh?”
Spaz nodded.
“And there’s other grilled cheeses in the sea, huh?”
“Something like that,” he chuckled.
“I don’t know if this is helping or just making me hungry, isn’t there supposed to be a sign or an omen or something?”
Spaz smiled a smile of worldly experience as it looks back upon the wide eyes of its own naivety. Miles expected a one-liner that raveled the forks into a one-way ticket, but Spaz just looked him in the eye and nodded towards the river.
Turkeys.
Five of them.
Walking in a line down the hill to the West.
Spaz nodded for Miles to take the shot. No way, he reflexively declined before he’d even calculated the pressure of extravaganza. Spaz motioned for the OG throwstick and slowly stepped from behind the boulder. Miles watched him take a deep breath as he drew back his arm, launching the whirling wheel of centrifugal force straight towards the lead bird. It flew low and silent, perfectly at neck height as it ripped through the setting sun rays, until it didn’t. A burst of wind caught it and suddenly lifted its gyroscopic inertia the few inches it took to fly right over their heads.
None the wiser, the party fowls bounced along their merry little way, as Spaz reached around to the untested kylie tucked into his belt. He cocked and fired, it was a bad throw, dipped down into the slight ravine between them. But the boomerang had been unwantedly rising lately, and as it neared the edge of the recess, it rose just enough to clear the side of the bank and slam into the caboose of our fowl line. Not a neckshot, and maybe not even lethal, but she definitely wasn’t gonna be moving around for a while.
Miles leapt over the blind and the two of them tore across the hill with various admittals of disbelief. The rest of the rafter took to the canopy as they alerted the forest of today’s obituary. They were two thirds of the way to the scene when their tracks were stopped in dead unison.
At the edge of the ravine, the pink sky cut through the trees as it backlit the silhouette of a menacing shadow creature. Mountain lion, puma, cougar, whatever you wanna call it, either way, it stood three feet tall and twice as long, golden tan with glaring eyes, and shared little intention of giving up the high ground.
“Hey bud,” Spaz calmly initiated conversation with the queen of the hill. “Don’t mind us, we’re just out doing a bit of bird watching is all.”
The cat stared on.
“Was kinda hoping to grab that one we hit up there,” he said, as he took a careful step forward. “If you don’t mind that is.”
She minded. A few teeth flashed and a guttural grumble reconfirmed her decision. Miles thought it might have been the echo of his own stomach turning.
“Well,” Spaz persisted. “Then how ‘bout the boomerangs?”
The curious kitty was through with negotiations, they were trespassing on her territory and she couldn’t let that jive turkey fly. She let out a short yelp to warn off any followers and turned to take the prize in her mouth, looking back for one last gloat at the empty handed poachers, before she slinked away and relinquished their weapons.
“Holy...” Spaz trailed off.
“Did that just happen?”
“I think that just happened. That was fucking awesome.”
“Yeah, except now we’re eating crow for dinner.”
“Yeah, I guess so, huh.”
“And good thing I still pack a change of pants.”
The birdless boys chased the sunset up the hill, adrenaline flooded their assent as flashbacks of valor put it all behind them, who would even believe the saga that still had Miles questioning his own perception of reality?
And had this been his sign? He asked for an omen and a second later his path was crossed, but if that had been a signal to fall in line for the water, then how on Earth was he supposed to interpret the path interference of the missing lynx?
No closer to conclusion, they crested the hilltop to find the celebration already underway, perhaps they’d be too distracted to notice the returning champions and their running up trophies, a pair of brown and white wing feathers discarded during the shakedown.
“No luck, huh?” she offered no reprieve.
Spaz looked to Miles as they both broke into satirical depreciation, “Nope,” he answered. “Guess it must notta been our day.”