Frontlines

It was a Tuesday when the trucks started rolling in. Their engines, loud enough to wake a deaf man sleeping, made the surrounding livestock uneasy. They started pacing back and forth in the corrals, digging a trench with their hooves. Many started bellowing day and night, like a siren call.

It felt like tensions were rising, the air felt even hotter than before. Everything they’ve been working towards, everything they’ve been fighting for was for nothing. The trucks kept rolling in, bringing more people to distinguish their dwindling supplies, pumping exhaust into the air, and breaking the tops of trees that overlooked the street. Carmen watched all of this happen on that dreadful Tuesday morning.

Was everything she had done for nothing? Tears brimmed in her eyes and she breathed in deeply. Now is not the time to cry. If not today, there will be no tomorrow. This is not the future they needed.

She pulled out her phone and sent a message to Macy: Meet me outside. Now.

Macy found Carmen sitting on the bench in the front of the school, bent over with her head in her hands. Her posture was often strong, something Macy admired about Carmen. She hadn’t seen her like this since the accident. Macy sprinted towards her.

“Carmen what happened?”

She pulled her hands from her face. She didn’t look upset–there was something brewing behind her eyes. Macy recoiled.

“I’m sick of this, Macy. I’m sick of them rolling in like that and just taking whatever they want from this land. They’re setting us up for failure, it’s not fair.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The trucks. The pipeline development. It’s like nothing we ever do is enough. We don’t need more destruction, we need progress. I can understand that, why can’t they? It’s a million degrees out and they’re slaughtering the forest.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I get it. Maybe it feels different for me since I’m moving away. It all feels less close.”

“You’re moving, but we’re still on the same planet, aren’t we? This is bigger than Cedar Grove, Macy. I thought you knew that.”

Macy stared at the ground. “Then what should we do?” She asked Carmen, her face growing hot.

Camren sat for a moment in silence, a thousand thoughts racing through her mind. She no longer felt afraid. Carmen’s jaw tensed and she replied through gritted teeth: “We’ll disrupt them back.”

…

Carmen and Macy spent the next few days in neglect of their usual routine. Camped out in Carmen’s bedroom, the pair got busy reaching out to everyone they know. Well, not everyone they know, but only the ones they could trust. Carmen worried that if other people intervened, it would throw the whole thing sideways. It wouldn’t be dangerous, what they had planned. Not in Cedar Grove–it was too quiet here. They would cause a ruckus, at most. Besides, they didn’t want a big disturbance. A thing like that takes a generation.

On Tuesday they decided to meet with the others. They didn’t want to occupy a public space, so their friend Finn offered the basement in his family’s home for use. It was only halfway finished; the pipes dripped in a couple of spots and the whole thing smelt like mildew, but that wasn’t uncommon for this town. Most of the houses were old and because development was slow, they often fashioned a concrete floor basement. Finn’s, at least, stored a large couch and a dartboard, although neither were often used. Some boxes helped to occupy the space, and Carmen took the opportunity to use one as a stool. And the basement was cool. Even with the occupancy of twelve high schoolers.

“I have snacks,” Finn said, holding up an old tray of meats and cheeses.

“Are those safe to eat?” Someone called out from the back.

“Well you know what they say: a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor,” said Wade Burlington, stepping forward to grab a handful of cheese.

“Uh, okay. Moving on,” Carmen said. “I just want to thank you all for being here. It goes without saying that none of this will work without support.”

The sun sank low in the sky, causing the light to scatter through the trees and streak with intensity through the basement window. The kids sat in a circle and listened as Carmen talked. It felt small, and it was. Carmen glanced outside and saw a flock of birds pass through the sky. They flew in a tight formation; loud and never ceasing. Their bright feathers danced with the setting sun. She was certain they were farlings.

…

It happened the next day on the ninth of June. They started out as twelve as they walked out of school at 10am with their signs up high. A few others joined them, some empowered by the movement, others glad to take the excuse to leave class early. The sky that day was unusually dark. Their shouts echoed through the streets of Cedar Grove as they headed towards the main road.

“Why are you marching?” Someone yelled from the street.

“We’re marching for your children!” Carmen replied. And they were. This land is only theirs for the time being.

As they moved forward, more people joined them, their movement growing larger than the last, but this time with Carmen at the front lines.

No one really retaliated. “They’re just kids,” was the common denominator for anyone who might have opposed what they were doing. But that was just it: because they were just kids, no one opposed. That was their power.

Once they got to the main road, they held their place on the street as the large trucks rumbled to a stop. There was no turning around for them, and there was no street wide enough that they could otherwise pass through. Carmen refused to give up.

More support trickled in as the news of the event began to spread. Soon the whole Clay Pigeon committee arrived, with Pat bringing support and, almost as importantly, cinnamon sugar donuts. There must have been two hundred people blocking the road and most of them were young. Soon after a long day at the clinic, George arrived at the demonstration. He worked his way through the excited crowd and gave Carmen a hug and a big smile.

As the day went on, tensions began to increase and people got restless. News vans began to roll in, blocking the side streets for any small glimpse of the action they could obtain.

As evening set in, police eventually intervened and calmly asked the citizens to disperse. The consensus was compliant – it wasn’t worth an altercation. And besides, the demonstration was exhausting and everyone was drained. Carmen said a prompt goodbye, eager to escape the noise and the media. Newspeople stared them down like hawks, waiting for any chance to dive in and bombard them with questions. After everything, Carmen wanted nothing more than some peace and quiet.

She ducked out of sight and started walking home. Turning around she saw the full extent of what she had put together. Things began to clear and Carmen saw, before her eyes, a path towards progress opening up.

What she didn’t know was that this would soon become so much bigger than her and that news of the demonstration would be broadcast and spread across the province. What she didn’t know was that she would inspire hundreds of other students who would march out of their schools in solidarity. What she didn’t know was that everything would change.