that day. Bryan explained why he was looking for her.
“Oh, God. Just a minute.” The woman threw down the ladle and hustled to the corner of the tent, where a man sat at a card table. Before him, a laptop computer, two portable FM radios and several cellular telephones were neatly arranged. The woman spoke to him briefly, then returned to tell Bryan that Iris was up the road at the bridge.
Bryan and Walter jumped back into the truck. The road narrowed, dirt replacing the gravel. This must be the new section Jimmy helped build, Bryan thought witha deepening sense of foreboding. Naked stumps lined the track where trees had been felled, and piles of forest debris marked the work of the bulldozers.
The road dipped and the truck rattled into an open area jammed with a chaotic array of people and vehicles, as if some madman had decided to set up a carnival in the middle of the forest. A yellow school bus, three RCMP cruisers and a police van with wire mesh on the windows were parked on both sides of the road. Walter parked behind the police van.
Just ahead, a knot of protesters stood listening to a woman speaking through a megaphone.
“Who is willing to be arrested?” Bryan heard as he approached.
A few hands went up. A girl of about ten — Bryan had seen her around town — put up her hand. “I’ll have to ask my mother first,” she yelled, pushing damp bangs away from her eyes. No one laughed.
“All right,” the woman continued, her voice metallic and impersonal as it squeezed through the megaphone. “Remember, when you join the people on the bridge, that we are totally committed to non-violence. When the process server reads the injunction, be silent: the judge will treat you more harshly if you do not show respect when the injunction is read. Do not resist the police. Let your body go limp and allow them to carry you to the bus. Don’t even hold on to them as they carry you away: if you do, they’ll charge you with resisting arrest. Good luck, and save Orca Sound!”
The crowd around her took up the chant as they moved slowly toward the bridge. Bryan darted among them as quickly as he could, anxiously searching for his mother. At the edge of the throng, just up the rise at the side of the road, he caught sight of Otto and Kevin, taking pictures. They look like reporters covering a car wreck, Bryan thought.
Bryan caught up to the woman with the megaphone. Shouting above the chanting, he asked her if Iris was nearby.
“Yeah, she’s around here someplace.” Before Bryan could explain, the woman vanished into the crowd.
Bryan had no choice but to follow them. The road fell away more steeply as it descended to the river. He could see the bridge now, with the Big Bear River foaming beneath it on its way to Gray’s Passage. On the bridge about a dozen people were sitting quietly in the drizzle, several rows deep, facing in Bryan’s direction. The road rising uphill on the other side was empty.
“See her yet?” Walter had materialized out of the crowd.
Bryan shook his head and began to jog downhill. A car pushed along behind him, horn blaring, forcing him to the side of the road. It was the first of a convoy. Elias’s brother, Zeke, who had joined the RCMP about a year before, was in one of the cruisers.
As the last car passed him, Bryan saw a flash of pink up on the bridge. A shade of pink all too familiar to him. He peered through the drizzle. Two pink knees stuck outfrom under a dark green poncho. It was Iris, sitting cross-legged in the second row.
Like a lit match, anger flared through him. He began to run. You idiot, he thought. Your brother is on his way to the hospital and you’re out here with a bunch of crazies sitting on a bridge and getting your ass wet. “Who is willing to be arrested?” the megaphone woman had asked. As if they were at a carnival and this was all a big game.
“Mom!” Bryan shouted, jumping up and down, waving.
Things began to happen quickly. The cars stopped at
“Oh, God. Just a minute.” The woman threw down the ladle and hustled to the corner of the tent, where a man sat at a card table. Before him, a laptop computer, two portable FM radios and several cellular telephones were neatly arranged. The woman spoke to him briefly, then returned to tell Bryan that Iris was up the road at the bridge.
Bryan and Walter jumped back into the truck. The road narrowed, dirt replacing the gravel. This must be the new section Jimmy helped build, Bryan thought witha deepening sense of foreboding. Naked stumps lined the track where trees had been felled, and piles of forest debris marked the work of the bulldozers.
The road dipped and the truck rattled into an open area jammed with a chaotic array of people and vehicles, as if some madman had decided to set up a carnival in the middle of the forest. A yellow school bus, three RCMP cruisers and a police van with wire mesh on the windows were parked on both sides of the road. Walter parked behind the police van.
Just ahead, a knot of protesters stood listening to a woman speaking through a megaphone.
“Who is willing to be arrested?” Bryan heard as he approached.
A few hands went up. A girl of about ten — Bryan had seen her around town — put up her hand. “I’ll have to ask my mother first,” she yelled, pushing damp bangs away from her eyes. No one laughed.
“All right,” the woman continued, her voice metallic and impersonal as it squeezed through the megaphone. “Remember, when you join the people on the bridge, that we are totally committed to non-violence. When the process server reads the injunction, be silent: the judge will treat you more harshly if you do not show respect when the injunction is read. Do not resist the police. Let your body go limp and allow them to carry you to the bus. Don’t even hold on to them as they carry you away: if you do, they’ll charge you with resisting arrest. Good luck, and save Orca Sound!”
The crowd around her took up the chant as they moved slowly toward the bridge. Bryan darted among them as quickly as he could, anxiously searching for his mother. At the edge of the throng, just up the rise at the side of the road, he caught sight of Otto and Kevin, taking pictures. They look like reporters covering a car wreck, Bryan thought.
Bryan caught up to the woman with the megaphone. Shouting above the chanting, he asked her if Iris was nearby.
“Yeah, she’s around here someplace.” Before Bryan could explain, the woman vanished into the crowd.
Bryan had no choice but to follow them. The road fell away more steeply as it descended to the river. He could see the bridge now, with the Big Bear River foaming beneath it on its way to Gray’s Passage. On the bridge about a dozen people were sitting quietly in the drizzle, several rows deep, facing in Bryan’s direction. The road rising uphill on the other side was empty.
“See her yet?” Walter had materialized out of the crowd.
Bryan shook his head and began to jog downhill. A car pushed along behind him, horn blaring, forcing him to the side of the road. It was the first of a convoy. Elias’s brother, Zeke, who had joined the RCMP about a year before, was in one of the cruisers.
As the last car passed him, Bryan saw a flash of pink up on the bridge. A shade of pink all too familiar to him. He peered through the drizzle. Two pink knees stuck outfrom under a dark green poncho. It was Iris, sitting cross-legged in the second row.
Like a lit match, anger flared through him. He began to run. You idiot, he thought. Your brother is on his way to the hospital and you’re out here with a bunch of crazies sitting on a bridge and getting your ass wet. “Who is willing to be arrested?” the megaphone woman had asked. As if they were at a carnival and this was all a big game.
“Mom!” Bryan shouted, jumping up and down, waving.
Things began to happen quickly. The cars stopped at
Similar Books
