Page 41 of A Very Happy Thanksgiving
Serena raised her gaze to the roof and muttered, “Stockholm syndrome.”
“Somebody needs to fight for those who can’t fight for themselves. Luck gave me a platform of millions—I might as well use it for good instead of letting my publicist post photos of feet every day.”
“Welcome to the revolution,” Katie said.
“Just to check, how revolution-y are things likely to get? Because there were a lot of guns around on Malati, and my face is insured for eighty million dollars.”
“We don’t normally use guns. I mean, I was only shooting into the air, and even that was terrifying. But we’d tried everything else, so what were we supposed to do?”
“Where did you get the guns?”
“One of our local members has connections,” she said vaguely. “He delivered them here in two huge hold-alls, and I almost broke my back trying to carry one of them to the boat.”
“Well, if my name is going to be associated with your cause in a less-than-victimy way, you need to ditch the weapons.”
“Is this a good idea?” Serena asked.
“I grew up in rural Nebraska, and I’ve seen the damage humans can do. Not just by fuelling the ever-increasing number of tornadoes, but spraying pesticides that pollute the land and kill off the bees. A chemical plant dumped neurotoxins in a river one county over, and do you know what the government did? Nothing. The town that relied on the water died, and the company’s shareholders got richer.”
Marc had friends who’d lived in Bryant Lake. Who’d lost their farms because nothing grew anymore. Of course he’d been angry, but in those days, his head had been so far up his own ass that he hadn’t used his voice to raise a ruckus.
What was the old saying? With age comes wisdom. Marc liked to think he’d changed for the better. Apart from a continuing thriller franchise he was committed to, he’d stopped chasing the big bucks and begun picking acting roles based on his heart instead of the paycheque. That had led to him meeting Serena, and through Serena, he’d found a small group of friends who cared for him as a person rather than for the doors his name could open.
Maybe coming here was a sign that he should evolve again? Focus on a higher cause? Phae used to tell him that everything happened for a reason, but sometimes the reason wasn’t always clear at first.
“I think I know the place you’re talking about,” Katie said. “Bryant Lake?”
Marc nodded. “Except the lake’s off limits now.”
“We have members from there. Nothing like an environmental disaster to boost recruitment.”
“Unless it’s an abduction,” Havana said, walking over with a plate. “We’ve signed up a record number of members over the past few days.”
“We’ve also gotten a bunch of death threats,” Katie pointed out.
“In war, there are always casualties. Julisa Denning, Tim Weston, August Groveland, Levi Sykes, Christine Yang, Winston Viggs… All martyrs for the cause.”
Serena looked horrified. “Wait, I thought you said nobody died on Malati?”
“The battle to save our planet has been going on for way longer than a week.”
Marc was beginning to regret his newfound activism. “What happened to those people?”
Katie ticked off the names on her fingers. “Tim was involved in a car wreck, August died in a house fire, Levi spent years in prison, Christine’s exposure to toxic chemicals led to a brain tumour, Winston was shot on the street, and Julisa disappeared from her lab.”
Half of those sounded like accidents, or at the very least, not martyrdom. Katie had seemed reasonably normal up until now—criminal tendencies aside—but had she taken a wrong turn to Conspiracy-ville?
“So what you’re saying is that it’s not a great idea to drive anywhere? Or work, shop, or live in a home?”
“Not if you plan on speaking out against big business or the government.”
“And yet you still do it.”
“Someone has to.”
“But why you?”
“Why… Well…” Katie seemed genuinely flummoxed by the question. Finally, she answered softly, “I guess I don’t have much left to lose.”
