35
“SkyFortress, they’re coming up.”
It’d been a week since that last skirmish, maybe more, could it have already been two? Time blurred the longer Miles was up, especially with a lull in the commotion, was it, tuesday maybe? Oh yeah, the moon, it was new. Of course it was.
You missed the whole slingshot shenanigan. Bill modified a water balloon launcher to deliver big bags of trail mix, one side of the pyramid was opened to create a sizable goal and he let ‘em rip over the fences. Musta practiced a bit back at camp, he was five for five. It hadn’t rained much, but enough for the tent to catch sufficient water to survive, no more coffee though.
It had been a different scene once they cleared the lot, a row of enforcers now stood guard day and night, regardless of any activism underway, a flagrant misuse of natural resources if you ask me. The work crew had finished up what they could, but they hit a wall, the woods were in the way. Bill had tied-in nearby trees with throwlines, if cut down they would rip the sit to the ground. This kind of setup deters most lumberjacks, but I guess you never really know about that one, until you do.
New agencies surfaced to negotiate surrender, there was nowhere to run and less places to hide, might as well give up now and maybe we’ll take it easy on you. They still didn’t know Miles from Adam, but Paul was on their radar and they were throwing every book they had, and good thing, because they’d run out of reading material a week ago.
His Facebook was hacked, a bunch of phony messages fished for dirt from his contacts, his YouTube channel mysteriously disappeared, they let him know that they had his parents address, and his sister reported that she’d received a threatening phone call promising some form of legal action against anyone who financially supported his stand, which she’d done openly.
It was getting personal, but all’s fair in love and oil, and it was crunch time for the pipe dreamers who needed a win. Every minute that the machines sat idle, was a punch in the purse for the ones pulling the strings, and for their investors, who had a contractual right to divest if construction was delayed past the new year. It wasn’t good for business to have a few treehuggers outrigging a billion dollar project, or for their egos, or for the poor American people who really need more oil exports, something had to be done to show these hooligans who was boss.
Miles looked over the edge to see arbor patrol climbing the westmost trunk, he knew what to do and found himself acting without time for hesitation. He checked in on the visitor, who had become entangled in a razor wire jumble, oh yeah, you’re gonna wanna watch out for that stuff, it’s brutal. He probably had the tools to cut himself free, if he could get to them, let us know if you get hungry down there, we have trail mix.
Miles detached the supply bag from the invaded tree, and attached a month’s worth of fecal sawdust in five gallon buckets, well, it had to go somewhere. He pulled the backup safety latch that was intended to catch them in the event of cataclysmic spring failure, rolled the tent up in the corner, threw on a harness and clipped into the overhead lines, got comfortable on one of the other trees, and enjoyed the show.
Razor wire’s no joke, it digs in and quickly weaves itself into the fabric of your life. This guy wore a lot of leather, which is a bit more resistant, but he’d have to cut through each loop in order to infiltrate the protective gear. He’d almost punched through it all when the punchline hit him in the nose, movements composted in sawdust are actually quite odor free, but the olfactory workers did their best to top ‘em off, and just the thought of wasted space is enough to curl a few toes.
The trooper was a trooper and meticulously evaded evacuation, he was just a foot from the platform’s edge when the radio squelched a single command, “Now.”
Miles crossed a finger and said a prayer, then he yanked the emergency paracord and its quick release pin. The western corner of the floor disconnected from its anchor and fell out of reach, the boys were left stranded as the trampoline flapped in the wind, but the exacerbated expression they caught was well worth it.
The stain remover hung perplexed by the unraveled plot, there was no way to get over to the other corners, he would have to retreat and start all over again on another tree. He left the mess for someone in a hazmat suit, tried to remove the spring anchor, but it was what all the fuss was clipped into, so he fled the scene empty handed as he concluded that he didn’t get paid enough for this shit.
Once he was almost to the ground floor, Miles authorized phase two. The safety lines hung high above in each tree, he reached up to release his tether from the two uncompromised positions, and perilously swung over the heads of the baffled battalion, stuck the landing with a thud, clipped himself into the tree, and pulled the towline affixed to the loose corner of the penthouse. He reconnected the anchor and replaced the safety pin, the treefort was as good as new, even if waste management had forgotten this month’s pickup.
The tension below hadn’t dissipated nearly as fast as a canister of teargas, they would have to rethink their hostile extraction technique. They only had one climber, and the acrobats could probably repeat their resist stunts as they saw fit, the only viable option was to wait on two more arbortrators and ascend all three trees at once. Nowhere to hide, remember?
The collapsable contraption bought them at least another day, and at a bazillion dollars per, it was quite a steal. It might be tough to get a good night’s rest, what with the lights and the crowds and the threat of having to let another guard down, but they had eyes on the ground and Paul could sleep with one open, so Miles took the first shift, he was far too amped up to turn down now.
Everything was happening so fast as it all came to a head. A month of slacklining slowed the spin of the world, they’d exercised and stretched like any confined astronaut in defiance of gravity, but Miles still felt a little soft around the edges, it was time to remember why he was here. They couldn’t hold the sit forever, they’d be lucky to last a few more days. Regardless of Miles' fate, the trees would eventually come down, and the pipe would snake its way through the waterbed. They’d slowed its flow a bit, a pretty good bit actually, and more to come, plus they helped inspire over a thousand new faces that Miles had yet to meet. He wondered if he’d even recognize camp, or if he’d get a chance to find out.
He understood that two guys sitting in a tree wasn’t going to defeat the petroleum industry, but he also understood that he was only a small piece of an elaborate puzzle, and he knew in his heart that he was here for something bigger than himself. He felt unfettered relief that he was actually doing something for a change.