Free Falling From Grace by Ann Eriksson Page A

dinner of pasta and canned tomato sauce fuelled a growing frustration.
    â€œThis is crap.” A middle-aged man overturned his bowl on the ground; the sauce splattered like blood across the stones and forest litter at his feet.
    A woman burst into tears. “It’s not our fault. All we had was pasta.”
    â€œI’m not talking about the food,” the man growled. “I’m talking about this whole damn thing. It’s a waste of time.”
    â€œI agree,” a plump woman soaking her foot in a cooking pot full of warm water echoed. “Let’s go home. I need a shower.”
    Marcel heaved himself off the ground and banged his bowl and cup together. “If we go, we will be playing into their hands,” he argued. “The company, they are trying to outwait us, eh.”
    â€œYah, aren’t we in this for the long run?” an older man called out.
    â€œThe multinationals are the ones in it for the long run. Seventy-five per cent of the island’s old-growth’s gone,” a young woman with a mass of wild black curls retorted. “If we don’t stand up and say no, they’ll keep cutting until it’s all gone to toilet paper and tabloids. I’m staying.”
    â€œTwenty-five per cent left, Sue?” the man who dumped his dinner argued. “I can hear them. Still twenty-five per cent old-growth left? Plenty for all of us, toothpicks, you tree-huggers and the birds.”
    â€œBull-shit. Their head office is in New York. They don’t care about the animals,” Cougar chided. “Or us.”
    â€œWhat do you think, Faye?” Terry turned to me. “You’re the scientist. Is twenty-five per cent enough?”
    I had avoided their political discussions, feigning disinterest to keep them at bay. Weren’t the issues too complex to solve by civil disobedience? Processes existed to deal with the problem without breaking the law. But my research had uncovered more questions than it answered. “We don’t know much about these old rainforests,” I said. “We’re finding new species of arthropods in the canopy all the time. I’m for keeping all the bits and pieces.”
    â€œYeah, how many species have gone extinct before we know about them?” Sue said.
    I squirmed at the comment the way I did when Mel observed I spent my time recording species before they disappeared. Underneath my well constructed and scientific counterarguments, I heard the cruel truth in his words. Protecting small tracts of land in parks wouldn’t prevent a loss of biodiversity.
    How much intact wild land does a wolf, an elk, a goshawk, a canopy beetle need?
    â€œMy job will go extinct if I’m not back to work by next week,” the plump woman argued.
    â€œMine too.”
    â€œOkay.” Terry held up his hands. “We can’t expect all of you to hang in here forever. Do we have a core group of people willing to stay as long as it takes? The rest of you can leave for home and work from there. If it gets hot on the road and they arrest people, we’ll need supplies, new recruits, and support from outside.”
    A number of people bobbed their heads in agreement.
    â€œRaise your hand if you can commit to stay.”
    A smattering of hands went up, among them Marcel, Mary, Rainbow, a white-haired Japanese man dressed all in black, Sue and two of her student friends from Vancouver, the dreadlocked man, Cougar, and his silent companion who went by the name of Squirrel.
    â€œExcellent,” Terry said. “We should manage to keep the road closed. I’ll let the Victoria office know if we need backup. If you leave, keep in touch with them.”
    â€¢ • •
    A black bear hung around the perimeter of the camp, attracted by the smells of cooking, curious about the increased activity in its territory. At night, his grunts and footfalls sounded through the thin walls of the tents, and as he grew