“It looked like you’d been there forever. The vegetation was destroyed. It’ll take years, maybe even a lifetime for it to bounce back. If it bounces back at all.” Spittle had collected in Ranger Gabe’s beard.
Bea saw Carl getting vexed. She smiled ingratiatingly. “I’m so surprised to hear this. I feel like we barely unpacked we were there such a short time.” This was a lie. They’d been there much longer than they should have. Everyone knew it. Ranger Gabe knew it. This was a common dance between the Rangers and the Community. Bea figured they’d been there about half a season—an obscene amount of time to stay in one place—and the only reason they’d begun moving was because she’d wanted some distraction from thinking of Madeline. And people wanted their mail. They were supposed to stop only when they needed to hunt, gather, and then process what they had. They were limited to seven days in one place as stated in the Manual. But they almost never followed this. It was hard to start moving once they’d stopped. To pack everything up in such a way that would be relatively easy to carry for the foreseeable future. That smoker was delicate and tricky, and right after a hunt they were weighed down with meat. A good thing overall, but a lot more weight to drag around.
“Oh, please,” Ranger Gabe said. “Even around here is a mess. How long have you been here?”
“One night.”
He shook his head. “Incredible,” he said. “Well, maybe it’s just not possible to avoid impact when you’re a group this large. I’ve always felt that way. I’ve always said there is no reason for this. For a group to be here. I said they shouldn’t let you in. Have I ever mentioned that?”
“You have,” said Bea.
“Well, I’m not the only one who feels that way.” He spoke through a crooked, satisfied smile.
“If it’s any consolation, we’re about half the size we used to be,” Bea said feigning graciousness, thinking of the dead.
He glared.
She mostly liked the Rangers, even the mean ones. They were fun to banter with which is why she had volunteered to be the Community’s liaison. She found that a small smile easily disarmed them. They were young and always seemed new no matter how long they’d been there. To her they would always be soft-eared cubs. Except Ranger Bob at Middle Post, who was older, gray filling in the temples and his mustache. He was a peer. She would go so far as to call him a friend. A good one, even. But these boys were fun for her.
“Let me also add that you’ve been at that camp too many times,” Ranger Gabe said flatly. He could not let it go. Carl was pacing, panting. He would break soon.
“I thought the rules only covered duration of time,” Bea said coyly.
“No. It’s a whole presence thing. You’re impeding wildlife opportunities by repeatedly returning and overstaying. No animal wants to call this home while you’re stomping around.”
“It’s not about presence,” Carl exploded, and rummaged furiously for the Manual to prove his point.
The Ranger smiled and Bea sighed. She felt she’d been winning their unspecified game, but now Carl had ruined it.
Ranger Gabe laid a heavy hand on Carl’s shoulder. “Don’t bother, sir. I saw all I needed to see. What matters is impact. And yours is severe. I’ve already catalogued it extensively in my report and I will send it up the chain, stamped URGENT. Infractions like this can get you kicked out.” His eyes were as stern as his unwavering voice. There was no generosity here. “What you need to do is start walking in the direction of Lower Post.” He pointed somewhere in the distance, in a direction they’d never been. “As ordered.”
They’d been rerouted before, twice to be exact. Once due to a controlled burn (if it had been a natural fire, the Ranger made sure to point out, they would not have been rerouted, as per the Manual). Another time it was due to a septic tank overflow at Upper Post. They were moved to the next most convenient Post to tend to business. But this felt unnecessary, a task meant to endanger them. They looked at the map. Lower Post was farther away than anywhere they’d ever been. It was meant as punishment. An invitation to a forced march.
Glen eased Carl back, away from Ranger Gabe’s hand and out of reach in case Carl decided to throw a punch.
“You know,” Glen said, “we thought we’d done a good job with micro trash and re-wilding, but we will be certain to give it more attention next time.”
“If there’s a next time,” the Ranger snapped. Then he slumped slightly. He knew the encounter was wrapping up and seemed regretful. Perhaps Bea had misjudged. Having the Community here might give the Rangers something to do.
“Well, duly noted,” Glen said. “Now, it’s Lower Post, you say?”
“Yeah.”
“Great. We’ll repack today—you have to pack right for a trek like that—but then we’ll head there first thing.”
The Community sighed.
Glen smiled. “Gang, I personally cannot wait. Who knows what wonders we’ll see?”
Only Agnes cheered.
“That’s my girl,” Glen said, beaming at her gratefully.
Agnes beamed back.
Ranger Gabe got back into his truck and drove, squinting at them in his rearview. Glen smiled and smiled until the truck crested a mellow hill and disappeared. Then Glen’s face slackened. He massaged his cheeks.
“Well,” said Debra, hoisting her pack, “I’m not turning around. Not when we’re this close to Middle Post.” She took a few steps toward the glinting roof.
Glen put his hand up. “Wait.”
“Don’t tell me we have to discuss this,” said Juan.
“Of course we have to discuss it. We need consensus,” said Glen.
Everyone groaned.
“We’re barely a mile away,” said Debra, her feet dancing toward Post.
“Well, some of us don’t like to go to Post and would prefer to avoid it whenever possible,” said Val. She was only saying that to please Carl, who hated having to go to Post.
“But our mail,” cried Debra.
“Debra, our mail won’t even be there,” snapped Carl.
Debra flapped her arm in the direction of Post. “But it’s right there.”
“First, Debra, consensus is your dumb thing, so don’t complain,” said Carl.
Debra scowled. She loved consensus usually. She was the one who’d brought the idea to the Community.
“Second, you realize they’re doing this so we will disobey and they can write another report and then maybe they can get us kicked out,” Carl warned.
“Since when are you so concerned with the rules?” spat Debra.
Carl blushed angrily. He hated the rules, especially when his desires aligned with them.
“Listen, gang, they’re doing it to get us to go somewhere else. They’re saying we’ve been lazy,” said Glen. “I think it’s a valid criticism.”
The allure of following the same route each year they’d been in the Wilderness State was great. If they knew the route, they knew what to expect. These plants grew at this time and they grew here. Those berries come in beyond that ridge, there. They had learned to read the land and decide where a ptarmigan had moved its burrow after they found the first one. They learned how animals thought and so they made better hunters. They’d learned how to survive in this quadrant of the map. Would what they learned allow them to survive elsewhere? Anywhere? They’d already passed through all the hardship of learning in the early days and come out on the other side, alive. They did not want to go through it all again.