Page 59 of The Woodcarver's Model
“I shot the wolf. Did you see that? I shot the fucking wolf!”
“Wolf? What wolf? There haven’t been wolves on these islands for a hundred and fifty years.”
“Well…not now there aren’t. I just shot it!”
Frank hustled Ricky into the back seat of the truck.
“Where the fuck did you get that gun?” Frank yelled.
Ricky looked away. “I borrowed it...from my dad’s collection in case…”
“Not only stupid, but illegal.” Frank shook his head. “I’m going to have a long talk with your father when we get back.”
Frank did the driving for the rest of the day. Ricky was ordered to stay in the truck and only leave if he had to pee.
* * * *
So, if you are one who believes that we can make a difference in this world by working together with one voice to save our wilderness, re-post this blog on any and all social media. And, if you are a supporter of West Coast Travel, Vancouver Island Publishing or Peak Capital Developments, reconsider your relationship. Their deception and hypocrisy cannot go unpunished.
To keep his social media readers on the hook, he let them know that more proof of outside collusion would be forthcoming. He didn’t want to release the government connection too early. McCutcheon might be of more use in power than out of power. He could always bring down the corrupt politician later. In the meantime, someone would have to pay the Honourable Member of the Legislative Assembly a visit.
An Epilogue to his blog post took the form of a video, something he rarely did. For Rob, his work was, at its heart, not about him—it was about the people and the places he visited. The video he narrated consisted of a slideshow of islander’s faces, each of whom would be drastically affected by the development. It was like the reading of names of victims of a disaster that put a human face on the attack. Was it manipulative? Rob hoped so.
He reviewed it one more time and pressed ‘Post’. Rob had wielded the heaviest weapon in his arsenal—the power of thousands of rabid nature-lovers. Now he waited for the results. In the meantime, he added two more items to his list of assets.
He picked up his phone and called a number. The call was picked up on the third ring.
Rob said, “Look, I don’t have much time. I need you to do me a favour.”
“Sure. For you, anything.”
He continued, “I’m going to email you a document and instructions. You once told me that you always wanted to try your hand at acting. Now’s your chance.”
“You got it.”
“Thanks. I owe you big-time.”
He disconnected and called a second number.
“Hey there. I need some help,” Rob began.
“What is it, Robert?”
“I got to thinking about what you said the other day and it stung.”
“Good. It was supposed to.”
“I need some help to get out of the hole I’m in. Care to lend me a hand?” he asked.
“What do you need?”
“You know things no one else does. I need you to put that knowledge to good use.”
He then painted in broad strokes what he needed to happen.
The ball was now starting to roll down the hill. He knew that there was no way to stop what he had put into motion.
In a matter of hours, his post and video had gone viral. His plea had ricocheted around the world and back again. He thought back on Cedric’s comments about the cogs beginning to turn on the project. In the development process, he knew the next step would be to bring in the surveyors. If his plan didn’t work quickly enough, he thought, there was one final salvo he could think of, and it was right out of Mitch’s Aunt Sarah’s playbook.
