Who Speaks For the Trees?
The huge redwoods loomed over the lumberjacks. They stood silently, staring at their ruined equipment. The trucks were broken at all the right places, engines torn to shreds, tires stripped to the rims. They were not surprised. Stories like this had been coming in from all over Northern California. Stories of camps wrecked, work huts burned, and vehicles smashed.
Suddenly, a cry from the depths of the forest.
“The night watch!” one of the group shouted. They cautiously made their way through the groves of giant trees to the source of the noise. The sight that greeted them filled their hearts with dread. The two security officers were tied to a great trunk, ropes binding them to the thick, rough bark. One was unconscious, slumping into the bonds. The other greeted the lumberjacks with a wild stare, perhaps not believing they were real. Three rushed forward, taking out pocket knives to sever the thick cords. The man began sobbing, crying out loud.
“What’s wrong? Do you need an ambulance?” They asked him, glancing around as if the answer was hiding in the undergrowth.
“My chest…” The guard managed to get out before he broke down again. They quickly pulled him off the tree and laid him on the ground, rubbing his limbs to bring feeling back. The other lumberjacks quickly untied the second guard and rushed the limp body through the woods to a car.
“He did it to me!” The first guard coughed, moving a numb hand to his shirt. The crowd of flannel shirts peered down in horror as the guard lifted his uniform, revealing fresh, black tattooed words spread in a ragged line across his abdomen…
“Once-Ler.”