William Bernhardt - Dark Justice

A smile played on his lips. Very melodramatic, he thought on reflection, if unlikely. But he couldn’t complain; her brave rendezvous had turned his case around.

He reached for the bottom rung of the ladder.

And heard a rustling noise behind the Dumpster.

He gripped the metal rung and froze. Could this be happening again ?

“Peggy?” he whispered. At least before, it had not been pitch-black in the alley. Now it was. He couldn’t see who or what was back here with him.

“Peggy?” he said again. The short hairs on the back of his neck were bristling. He couldn’t make up his mind. Should he race up the ladder? It seemed safest. But if he’d done that before, he would never have heard what Peggy had to say.

“Peggy?” he repeated urgently. His knees were beginning to tremble.

“I ain’t no Peggy.”

The deep voice boomed out from the trash. Ben felt his entire body tense.

“Who is that?” Ben asked. His voice didn’t sound nearly as strong as he wanted it to.

There was no answer-nothing verbal, anyway. But he began to detect movement, a dark silhouette moving toward him. A very large silhouette.

“Wh-Who is it?” Ben repeated. “Speak up.”

The huge silhouette kept moving till it was barely a foot away from him. That close, Ben was able to perceive a few distinctive features. Huge, muscled shoulders. Long black hair. A scar over his right eye.

“Vincenzo,” Ben said, almost under his breath. “You’re Alberto Vincenzo.”

Vincenzo’s face was like a rock, solid and unsmiling. “I am.”

“And what do you want?”

Vincenzo placed his fists on his hips. “I hear you’re runnin’ around tellin’ people I committed some murder,” he growled. “And that makes me very, very angry.”

Maureen blinked, then blinked again. It was becoming difficult to see. A light rain had started falling, barely more than a mist, but it was fogging her wire-frame glasses. With every passing moment, she became a little blinder. It was a situation she hadn’t anticipated. Without her glasses, she couldn’t see. And she couldn’t wipe off her glasses-since at the moment she didn’t have the use of her hands.

There were four of them, she and Al, Deirdre and Doc, all lined up across the road, chained to three barrels. These were standard shipping barrels, except they had been filled with cement-all but a narrow passage at mid-height where a four-inch PVC pipe ran through the diameter. Once the barrels were in place, the Green Rage team positioned themselves between them, put their arms through the pipes, and linked up. They used chains to lock in their arms. Given time, they could remove themselves by releasing the chains, but it was impossible for a third person to force them out.

Al, just out of the hospital, was beside her. She had told Al to stay at their new base camp and rest, but he had insisted; he wanted to be a part of this. Given all he had been through, she didn’t see how she could deny his wish.

It was a desperate action, but it was their last chance. A convoy of trucks and equipment was scheduled to move into the largest section of the old-growth forest this evening; once they were in place, the conflict would be over. The loggers would have won. The forest would be as good as dead.

They couldn’t let that happen. At least not without a fight.

The loggers driving the trucks had been mad as hell when they saw the Green Rage team chained across the only road in, but short of out-and-out violence, there wasn’t much they could do. After exchanging angry words and nasty names, the man driving the lead truck told them he was going after the sheriff.

Who, unless Maureen missed her guess, would be the man driving the car with the flashing red light, headed this way.

“Be strong,” Maureen reminded her team. “We’re doing this for the forest.”

“And for Zak,” Al added.

Maureen nodded. She hadn’t meant to make this personal, but she knew that now, after so much treachery and violence, for many of them it was. “Don’t let them get to you. Don’t feel like you have to answer back. Don’t even listen. Stay cool. And above all else, remember-no violence.”

She watched as Sheriff Allen strolled toward the barricade of barrels and bodies. He passed through an angry mob of loggers, fourteen or fifteen of them, all killing time till they could continue the convoy.

Sheriff Allen glanced at Maureen. “You in charge?”

“For today,” she answered.

“You know this is a public road. These people got as much right as anyone else to use it.”

“They’re bringing in the means of destroying this ancient forest,” Maureen said calmly. “We can’t allow that to happen.”

“They’ve got permits,” Allen said. “I’ve seen ’em. The Forest Service has given them the okay to log in here.”

“The trees don’t belong to the Forest Service. They belong to humanity.”

“Well, ma’am, I’ll tell you something. I tend to agree with you on that score. But like it or not, these men aren’t breaking the law. You are.” He ran his finger along the brim of his hat. “I’m going to have to ask you and your friends to move along.”

“We’re not leaving.” She tried to keep her voice free from any ego or anger. It wasn’t a statement of defiance. It was simply a statement of fact.

“Well, you’re going to have to go sometime. You can’t stay here forever.”

Maureen didn’t answer. She knew they didn’t have to stay here forever. All they had to do was to stay long enough to screw up the logging company’s plans and burn up their budget. Time was money, and if they could keep the loggers idle long enough, they would eventually abandon this project.

“Surely you don’t think you’re going to outwait the logging company, ma’am. Hell, you folks’ll get hungry long before that happens.”

Again Maureen did not respond, but she reminded herself quietly that they all had candy bars and other easy edibles tucked in their shirt pockets or jackets-someplace they could get to them, even without the use of their hands.

“I’ve had as much of this crap as I’m going to take!” It was the hothead driver of the lead truck. He had close-cropped hair and was wearing a red cap that matched his shirt. “I’ve got a schedule.”

“I’m sure you do,” Sheriff Allen replied. “But that doesn’t change the situation any.”

“They put me in charge here,” the driver shouted. “If this job gets screwed, it’s going to be on my head.”

“Sir, please stay calm-”

“What the hell kind of cop are you, anyway?” The driver’s teeth were clenched together with anger and rage. “Aren’t you supposed to enforce the law?”

“What do you want me to do? Rip their arms out?”

“I expect you to do more than talk!”

Sheriff Allen somehow managed to maintain a calm, level voice. “The only way I see that we’re going to get through this barricade is to get some sledgehammers and take out these barrels. And we can’t do that now, after dark. It’s going to have to wait for tomorrow, if I can get enough men together, or Monday, most likely.”

“Goddamn it!” The driver yanked off his cap and threw it to the ground. “I’m so sick of these sanctimonious pricks screwing up our work. They think they can get away with anything!”

“Sir, please remain calm.”

“I’m sick of it. Sick! Sick of the law looking the other way. They’re not scared of anything. Because time and time again, they get away with it.”

Sheriff Allen reached out. “Sir, why don’t you come with me-”

The driver slapped his hand away. “Goddamn it, if you won’t put some fear into these people, I will.”

“Sir, please.”