Page 34 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
“Hi… er… You there, Luna? If so, please pick up. If not… well, I haven’t heard from you, but I guess your cellphone access is down after the storm in your area. Good news… I managed to cancel the helicopter and the media crew. Thank God I ticked the box for insurance, so it was all covered; otherwise, we’d have been severely screwed.
“Listen, about er… Randy. Yeah, sorry about that. He bailed. Called in sick. Well, not him, his hamster. Had to take it to the vet, and it was too late to find a substitute, so I thought ‘best not to tell you’ in case you bailed as well. Sorry about that, but this mission’s really important. But you know that. Forgive me?
“Anyway… how’d you get on? I assume you didn’t get time to put the banner up before the storm came, so I’m letting you know I’ve finally managed to hire a chopper—which has been almost impossible because of all the search and rescue operations—for exactly two weeks’ time.
"So the night before, I need you to go up onto the walkway to fix the banner, just like we agreed, okay? And remember, it’s the long walkway—the one between two especially tall Douglas firs. It’s very important that it’s that walkway, like I said before. That’s the one I earmarked when I did my reconnaissance beforehand, and we’ve got the GPS coordinates for it, so we’ll be honing in on it when we fly through. Should look great in 4K high res, with you lying on the ground underneath.
“Okay, that’s it. See you in a couple of weeks. Don’t let me down.”
I stare at the phone in disbelief.
Not a single “Are you okay?” Not one word about where I’ve been sleeping or what I’ve been eating for the past week. And… did he just say he knew Randy wasn’t coming? Because of a fucking hamster? And he deliberately didn’t tell me—just left me to risk my life alone—because he thought I’d bail too?
What the actual fuck? The bastard.
If I’d known the helicopter was canceled, I wouldn’t have been out there trying to rig a banner on my own in a storm. I wouldn’t have fallen. I wouldn’t be limping around now, lucky to even be alive. If Southpaw hadn’t led Luke to me, I’d be dead.
And Tim? He doesn’t care. Just assumes he can command me to do it again in thirteen days’ time, all so his shiny helicopter and media crew can get their dramatic footage. All for the cause. All for his headlines.
I thought Kill Climate Change was about teamwork, about protecting each other. About standing together. But this? This is using people. Lying to them. Treating me like a pawn in his game.
Who the hell does he think he is?
I almost call him right then—my thumb hovering over the button, ready to scream at him until my throat gives out. But it’s two-thirty in the morning. If I start yelling, I’ll wake the whole lodge, and then I’ll have to explain. And I can’t. Not yet. Too humiliating. Too raw.
Better to sleep on it. Tomorrow, I’ll head into the woods—just far enough that I can talk without anyone overhearing. My ankle’s stronger now. My wrist too. Luke’s crutch will get me there. That’s the smarter play.
I yawn. God, I’m exhausted. Time to head back inside.
I’m just starting to rise when I hear it. A sound to my left.
Not wind. Not insects. A noise—small, stealthy, but deliberate. Like a foot nudging a piece of timber, or someone trying not to be heard and failing.
Southpaw hears it too. His whole body stiffens, ears pricked, eyes locked into the darkness. A low, menacing growl rumbles from his throat, vibrating the night air.
We wait. Silent. Listening. Hearts pounding.
Nothing.
After a minute, maybe two, I force myself to relax. Probably a raccoon. Or a fox. Maybe a weasel.
I stand, stretch, and hobble back toward the lodge. Southpaw stays rooted to the spot for another long, tense moment, staring into the trees like he sees something I can’t. Then, finally, silently, he turns and follows.
CHAPTER 12
Luke
It feels like I’ve been holding my breath forever. Finally, they head inside, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief.
It’s not like I’ve done anything wrong. I’ve got as much right to be out in the yard at night as anyone else. But it would have looked strange—suspicious even—if I’d had to explain why I didn’t announce myself when Luna first came outside.
Truth is, I don’t really know why I didn’t speak up. I wasn’t spying on her. I wasn’t trying to be secretive. I’d only gone out to check the diesel level in the primary tank. If the tank runs dry, the generator stops. And when the generator stops, everything goes dark. Not a crisis—we’ve got plenty of barrels in the fuel dump—but it’s a pain if it happens in the middle of a shower or halfway through cooking.
There was still about a foot and a half of fuel left, enough for now. I was heading back when the kitchen door opened and the light spilled across the yard. Out stepped Luna, Southpaw padding faithfully behind her.
I froze. I just didn’t want to get into a conversation that late. So I stopped, slipped behind the shadow of the outbuilding wall, and waited for her to go back inside. But she didn’t. She sat down on the bench. Southpaw lay at her feet. The longer they stayed,the harder it got to reveal myself without looking like I’d been deliberately eavesdropping.
And then I went and made it worse—shifted my weight and kicked a loose piece of storm debris. Just a tiny clatter. But in the stillness of the night, every sound is amplified. Her head whipped around. Southpaw growled low. And me? I held my breath and prayed they wouldn’t notice.
