The Wicked Wind

Some days, some news, hits you so hard that words seem impossible. Not the formation of the thought, you understand, but trying to use language to express the depth of your disgust and outrage. Sometimes it's all you can do to stop yourself from grabbing a weapon, hopping in a car, and aim to lash out at the bastards responsible.

The enemy must have thought we'd give in long before now. Maybe they were under the mistaken impression that we didn't have the stones to see this fight through once we stepped into it fully. Whatever the reason, the stakes have been upped considerably from even the insanity they pulled at North Jackson.

A community in the south, one not too far from where Block was, has been taken by the UAS. Every person there is dead. The small community, about two hundred people, was called Garton. It's empty of everything but corpses now, and those will have to go without burial. The UAS isn't allowing anyone to come close, but they aren't going in themselves. It's a warning to the rest of us, you see. It's a way of telling us how far they will go to force the opposition--us--into quitting.

One of the last survivors in Garton managed to shoot off a message before she died. She said the killers were one of the teams of operators we know are moving about Union territory. They waited until the wind was right, then released gas that swept across the town. Apparently someone broke into their sewer system, which had been closed off and all the old pipes emptied of water, and released more gas there. Across the wall the wind came, bringing death, and when people retreated into their homes, more of the stuff boiled up from their drain pipes.

Why do tyrants always think acts like this will cow the people they're trying to control? Why do they never learn?

I could say a lot of things today. I've seen Patrick and Will already this morning, and their reactions were both severe. Will is enraged and determined, but I saw the hurt in his eyes. Pat is sickened, as am I. Our reactions to things like this tend to be pretty close, even if I show it more.

So many things I could say. It all seems so inconsequential. How do you mourn for people you never knew, but felt a connection to anyway? Garton was a part of the Union. They made the choice to stand with us no matter what, and look how it ended. We have to honor that commitment and their memory, make sure things like this can't happen again.

We have to take steps.

I think I'll go say some of those things to the council.