Page 35 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
Now that they’re gone, I straighten and let my lungs work again. My mind circles back to the voicemail I just overheard.
So itwassabotage. Deliberate.
Luna herself had admitted as much. I don’t trust her, not fully—but I’ll give her this: she’s been honest about why she came here. Honest about her politics, her intentions, her mistakes. She’s not hiding. And God help me, I find that… attractive.
I can’t stand games. Most people—even women I’ve dated—hide behind polite smiles and careful words. You never know if they mean what they say, or if they’re playing some angle. I hate that shit. I never played it myself, never had the patience.
But Luna wears her heart right out on her sleeve. Sometimes she’s infuriating, too sharp-tongued for her own good. Sometimes I want to throttle her. But at least you always know where you stand with her.
That counts. More than I like to admit.
This Tim Collier, though? Tim is something else. That guy’s a real piece of work. What kind of leader sends two people to hang banners twenty feet up on narrow walkways, then doesn’t bother telling one of them when the other bails? Who does that? Nobody in their right mind.
But he did.
And now he’s doing it again. Ordering her back up there in two weeks, just so his media circus can swoop in with cameras rolling.
And then there were his words. Strange words. Haunting me.
“Should look great in 4K high-res, with you lying on the ground underneath.”
Why the hell would she be lying on the ground?
Unless…
My mind races, chasing shadows, piecing fragments together: the wire cutters… the hotel receipts… Tim talking about reconnaissance. There’s a picture there. I can almost see it, like one of those magic-eye illusions. But every time I think it’s about to come clear, it slips away.
And that scares me. Because I think when it does come clear, it’s going to be ugly.
For now, I’ll do the one thing I can. If the cell towers are back up, I’ll dig into Kill Climate Change. Especially into Tim Collier. Luna mentioned his name once in the kitchen, casual as anything.
Tim Collier.
It rings a bell. Something about it scratches at the back of my memory. Familiar, but I can’t place it. Not yet.
Maybe if I sleep, it’ll come to me. But I don’t feel like sleeping. Not now.
They’ve gone inside. Good. Time to move.
I head toward my room, phone in hand, already planning. I’ll start the research now. Better than lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Back in my bedroom, I grab my phone. Sure enough, I have a signal.
Good.
A cluster of messages flashes across the screen, but they can wait until morning. Right now, I want answers. I want to know more about Kill Climate Change… and about the man running the show—Tim Collier.
I type “Kill Climate Change” into Google and hit search. A second later, results fill the tiny screen.
At the top is the group’s official site: killclimatechange.org. Beneath it, a short Wikipedia entry. I skim through it, hunting for anything useful. Formed in 2017 in Portland. That makes me pause. Portland again. Coincidence? Maybe. Maybe not. They’ve been around for about eight years. Not a charity—just a registered not-for-profit. Director and principal shareholder: Tim Collier.
Well, well. Not just their “leader,” then. He owns the whole damn thing. That doesn’t prove anything by itself, but it makes me sit up a little straighter.
I scroll through more entries—most of it noise. Then I dive into the group’s own site. Their mission statement is front and center: “To protect Mother Earth from the ravages of man-made climate change, and in so doing, to spread life, health, peace, and happiness to all mankind throughout the world.”
Jesus. I almost gag. Who writes this drivel, and who actually swallows it?
I keep scrolling. There’s plenty of coverage of their stunts—blocking highways, chaining themselves to construction equipment, buzzing oil tankers in inflatable dinghies. Media bait. Noise.
