“The first mission was the starter for everything else. It was the kickoff point for every action we did since then. The damage was minimal, but the effect on morale was incredible. Every single activist across the country heard what we did. Of course, not all of them agreed with it, but many did. We didn’t need any of that, all we needed was the knowledge that we had done something good, something worthwhile. It was a month later when I heard about the next action, some guys down in Oregon, I think, burnt some forestry station to the ground. That was a massive shitstorm, but it was something. We had launched a revolution for the environment, and it felt really, really good. I told Mark some years after the event that if we had to do that first action again, I wouldn’t change a damn thing.”
“And do you still stand by that statement?”
“Of course.”
Excerpt from the trial of Jack Dendy Vs. The United States of America
Jack looked down on the compound, several large dump trucks and diggers where inside, prime targets. He checked his gear for what had to be the eighth time that night, making sure nothing was clanking together. His bike was laying on the ground next to him, ready to go. He nervously glanced at his watched, and turned the radio over in his hands. Seconds ticked by. Below him, somewhere in the valley, a mine worker was still lingering, probably locking up. He checked his gear again. His radio cracked to life, and he hurriedly turned down the volume, cursing himself. “That's it, all gone” The voice on the other end said “Get in there” He was already moving, Grabbing the mountain bike from it's resting place and making sure all his gear was secure. The bags hung heavy at his waist, and just before taking off, he slipped on his gloves. In the distance, miles off, the town's lights shone in the darkness. “Well, here we go” Jack muttered, looking down the steep trail. “Showtime.” The bike creaked as he set off, moonlight glinted off the frame.
Ten minutes later, Jack was breathing hard. His nose was burning from the cold air, and his breath was fogging. His bike skidded in the mud, and he managed it get it stopped just before ramming into the tall, chain link fence. He dismounted from the bike, and wheeled it back a few feet, resting it under a tree. He walked up to the fence and examined it, no rusty links. Sighing, he drew a pair of wire cutters from his bag. Jack jumped as he heard the crunch of someone walking on gravel, he looked to the trailer in panic. Was there still a man in the compound? Shit, run. Run. Run. His nerves steeled, he managed to keep from breaking into a sprint in the opposite direction and peered through the fence. A figure loomed out of the dark, and Jack sighed with relief. It was Mark. “Over here” Mark muttered, glancing around “There’s a hole in the fence.” Jack nodded, following along for a stretch before reaching the hole. He got down on his knees, gravel digging into his hands and crawled under. He was in.
They split up without saying a word. They both knew their parts, Jack along the east side and Mark along the west. Jack drew a pouch from his belt as he approached the first digger, opening the bag he took out the funnel, and set it on the ground. He tried to pull up on the hood of the digger, and was met with resistance as well as a solid THUNK. He sighed, and took something else out of the bag. As he unwrapped the cloth surrounding a hacksaw, he spread it just below the hood, where a shiny new lock shone in the night. The hacksaw bit into the metal, and within a few seconds the lock was sawn through. He dropped it onto the cloth, and wiped a few stray pieces of metal in as well. He bundled it all up, and stuck it in his backpack. They wouldn’t miss it. He lifted the hood again, and looked for the oil cap. It wasn’t there. Oh, shit. He frantically scanned the compartment again, then forced himself to calm down. He had practiced this a hundred times. Now, where was it. He found it in seconds this time, and he quickly popped the cap off, sticking the funnel inside the open pipe and pouring the small bag of powder into the funnel. He removed it after a few seconds and stuck it back inside his bag. Moving on to the second digger, he repeated the process. The third one was the tricky one. He climbed into the cab and, taking a screwdriver from his backpack, pried open the dashboard. He stayed calm this time, and within a few seconds had found the ignition wires. He yanked, and they came free. It would be only a minor annoyance to the crew, but it should waste their time. He replaced the panel as well as he could, and hopped down. Now all that was left was the office.
It was unlocked, and he slipped inside quietly. The other work had been done under a moon bright enough to illuminate what he had been doing, but inside the office it was pitch black. Jack grabbed a flashlight off his belt and flicked it on. A red beam cut through the darkness, illuminating the room. He swept it around a few times, and finally settled it on what he was in here for, the records. Everything was there, every page showing their entire operation. He took a camera out of his bag, and took a picture of the first page. The flash nearly blinded him in the dark office, and it took a few moments to clear his vision of the haziness that had appeared. He closed his eyes as he photographed the next few pages, and quickly replaced the book on the shelf he had found it. Suddenly, he spotted something odd out of the corner of his eye. The office safe was open, and inside there was a box of blasting caps and another, cardboard box. He grabbed a handful of the blasting caps, and opened the box. Inside, there where around 20 sticks of dynamite. He grabbed four, hopefully they wouldn’t notice, and stuffed them in his backpack, replacing the box where he had found it. He left the office, shutting the door tight behind him. He jogged to the hole in the fence, Mark was waiting already. “Come on” Mark said “Not much time.” “Not much time on what?” Jack replied, climbing under the fence. “You’ll see” Mark muttered, following him. “Let’s be going”
They where half way back up the mountain when Jack heard the noise. It was a very, very big noise. He turned around and saw towering flames leaping up from the burning diggers. Something exploded, probably a gas tank, and flaming diesel flew in all directions. The office caught as well, burning slowly in the night. “Oh, shit, Mark.” Jack said fearfully “This was supposed to be in and out, nobody would know we where here until a week or so later. God dammit, why couldn’t you just stick with the plan?” “They’ll be coming” Mark said, ignoring the rest of what Jack had said. “We need to go.” By the time they crested the hill, the diggers had nearly burnt all the way down. Jack turned back just in time to see the office explode as the dynamite in the safe caught. Pieces flew hundreds of feet, and a sharp report echoed through the hills. He cursed, this was bad. The rest of the journey went quickly. Five miles downhill on bikes towards the waiting pickup, then an hour drive back to their hideout. Halfway through the drive, Jack was snoring.
Jack awoke. Someone was shaking him gently, Mark. He groaned as he sat up, muscles screaming in agony. He wasn’t used to this amount of activity, and his body was making him painfully aware of that fact. “Come on” Mark said “We need to ditch the gear.” He climbed out of the truck, and looked around. It appeared that they had stopped in the exact middle of nowhere. They where in a field, long grass extended in every direction, meeting trees maybe a thousand feet away. The road they had come down was dirt, holed and very nearly overgrown. They where parked in front of an old building, a barn, it looked as it it hadn’t been used in years. Mark opened the back of the Jeep, and grabbed a shovel, tossing it to Jack. “You’ll need this.” He said, grabbing another shovel from the truck. “We have some digging to do.” He walked over the the barn door and yanked on the handle. Old, rusty hinges screeched in protest as the door slowly swung open, and the dark interior loomed before them. Mark led the way, moving over to a corner, where a piece of plywood leaned against the wall. He pulled it away, tossing it to the ground and jammed his shovel into the dirt. “We start here. Two feet by three feet, four feet deep.” He Yanked the shovel out, and began to dig. “Come on, Jack, We don’t have all day.” Half an hour later, the hole was done. Mark had brought water from the car, and a large box. “Toss your gear in here, gloves and bike tires as well.” He set his own bag inside, and walked back to the truck. Jack opened his bag, taking out the blasting caps as well as the several sticks of dynamite. He shoved them into his pocket as he tossed the backpack into the box. Mark came back with the tires from both bikes, and bundled them up, sticking them into the box on top of everything else. He slammed it shut, and dropped it into the hole. Two minutes later, they replaced the plywood leaning against the wall, and walked back to the truck. “You’re driving” Mark said, yawning. “I need to sleep.”
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Topic: NaNoWriMo 2012 (Read 17859 times)