Page 17 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
"No, we're not. Our contract is strictly for harvesting sustainable timbers, which are almost entirely softwoods—firs, pines, hemlock, and cedars. We use sustainable practices to perform selective logging and reforestation. We also log all the rare species and track their growth over the years, making sure they're protected for the future."
"Bullshit. You cut down thousands more trees than you plant. I've seen the government figures."
At this, the bulk of a man sighs, puts down what he's holding—my backpack, I notice. Good, at least I haven't lost my phone and my wallet—and fixes me with a malevolent stare.
"Yes, that's true generally, and I regret it. But McKenzie Forestry Services has always planted more than it's harvested since it started twenty-odd years ago. We're on the good side of the equation, and we're leading the way, actually. We don't need stupid little girls who don't know their ass from their elbow andwho've never done a proper day's work in their life coming here telling us what to do."
"Oh, really?" I draw myself up to my admittedly tiny height in my kitchen chair. "And I don't take bullshit answers from a… a… filthy sasquatch of a dumb lumberjack whose brain is addled from poor quality moonshine and too much inbreeding among the mountainfolk… okay?" By this stage, I am breathing heavily, my heart pounding, my muscles tense. If this guy wants a fight, he can have one. I ain't scared of him. Well… probably not. Mostly.
"Whoa, whoa. Shut up, the pair of you." Jack appears to gather his wits and decides to intervene. Toby, on the other hand, is just sitting there with a dumb grin on his face. He seems to be enjoying the whole thing, especially hearing me being called a stupid little girl. Bastard, I'll remember that.
"This is a kitchen, not a debating hall. I will not have people insulting each other here, and that goes for both workers and guests equally. Got it? Well?"
Silence for a moment, except for the sound of heavy breathing coming from me and from the man-mountain facing me. Inside me, even that's drowned out by the jackhammer pounding of my heart, but I assume that's only audible to me.
Then the guy seems to slump slightly. All the tension of his muscles dissipates, and the scowl is replaced by a sheepish smile.
"Alright, maybe I over-reacted. Maybe your particular group of protestors doesn't do those stupid things, and I apologize for calling you a stupid little girl. That was unnecessary. But you're wrong about McKenzie Forestry. Like I said, we're on the good side, not the bad side. I just got crazy because… well, because a few years back I got assaulted by a protester. Of course, I defended myself, and they ended up in the hospital, but I ended up in jail. I mean… the man came at me with a baseball bat, sowhat am I supposed to do, let him hit me? But it was his word against mine, and of course, he had all his protestor friends swear I attacked him, not the other way around. I got thirty days, but I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
"Good man, Luke," Jack says. Then he turns to me, his eyebrows raised. "Well?"
"Yeah, okay. I'm sorry too. It's not your fault you look like a sasquatch?—"
Toby cannot help but let out another snigger at this, and the big man's face turns dark again, so I quickly continue: "Sorry, I mean it's not your fault you're so big and intimidating looking, and you made a good point about McKenzie Forestry Services. If it's true, then I have to say I didn't know that, and yes, I agree, you should be applauded, not attacked. I apologize for calling you names and disparaging your parents."
But Toby appears to have completely lost it, and by this point, he's practically in hysterics, choking and thumping on the table, muttering "filthy sasquatch," "addled from too much moonshine," and "inbreeding amongst the mountainfolk," under his breath, between gasps for air. There are tears running down his face.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "I guess we don't get a lot of entertainment up here in the woods, Luke. You should have seen the look on your face when she called you a filth?—"
Jack slams his hand down on the table, hard, causing us all to jump. "Alright, alright, Toby. We heard it the first time. It don't need a repeating from you. Why don't you shut up already and finish those spuds, eh?"
CHAPTER 7
Eric
It's a fine night, warm and clear, with hardly a breeze. No moon tonight, making the stars shine extra bright. Up here in the mountains, the sky at night can be breathtaking, given the right conditions—like we have tonight.
I love the stars. The Milky Way is a band of light, twining and twisting across the sky as if some clumsy sky god knocked over a glass of liquid light, its contents spilling in a sinewy stream over the velvety darkness of the night. High in the eastern sky is the so-called Summer Triangle, formed by Vega, Altair, and Deneb. Low to the south is the distinctive hook shape of the constellation Scorpius. Venus isn’t visible right now, but I’m fairly sure I can make out Mars on the western horizon. An occasional meteor scoots past, flaring up in the atmosphere like a match being struck, and immediately dying again, so fast you almost question whether you really saw it.
I’m so absorbed by the night sky that I don’t realize someone’s right behind me until they speak.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“What?” I’m startled, confused for a moment, until I realize it’s that girl… the one who fell out of one of the walkways in yesterday’s storm, and had to be rescued by Luke.
I’d seen her at the kitchen table during dinner earlier. She’d been quiet—subdued, even—and she looked like she was angry, maybe even like she’d been crying. Poor girl. Must be hard, coming all the way out here and getting badly hurt like that, and with no friends around to help. She must be brave… or maybe just unwise. Some might even say “foolish,” but it’s not for me to judge. How can I? I don’t know all the facts.
I’d said Hello, of course, when we’d been introduced at the table, and I’d smiled at her once when our eyes happened to meet. She’d smiled back, but only politely. Anyone could see she didn’t want to be there. She’d excused herself as soon as we finished eating and hobbled off to her room.
But here she is now. Wrapped up in a gray toweling bathrobe that looks about ten sizes too big for her.
“Do you like the stars?” I ask.
“Oh yes,” she replies. “I’ve loved looking at the stars since I was a little girl. When I was a teenager, Mommy and Daddy and I used to go on skiing vacations each year. I loved the skiing too, but it was always the beautiful, star-filled night skies that I loved best. What about you?”
“Same,” I say. I’ve always loved stargazing. My parents bought me a telescope when I was twelve—nothing expensive, just a cheap one. They didn’t have much money. Then, when I was old enough to earn pocket money, I saved up and bought my first Newtonian reflector telescope—a Celestron with a twenty-four-inch optical length, and an attachment for your phone, so you could take photos and use GPS to track objects in the sky and position your telescope onto them.”
“Wow, that sounds really cool.”
