~ 22 ~

Tuesday, August 19th Port Alberni, BC

Wilma knew he was an early riser so her alarm was set for six, but she didn’t need it. Well before dawn she was awake, reviewing everything that had happened.

She got out of bed to make breakfast and was thinking about how much was riding on this, on her, when she realised she was looking in the linen closet for the jar of peanut-butter. Laughing at herself, she shook it off and knew the only way this would work would be the same way that life works: one thing at a time, stay focused on what you’re doing, remembering the big picture and being grateful for the day. This philosophy had served her well, she just needed to remember it.

Finally admitting she wouldn’t be able to eat this early anyway, she pulled on her jeans and tucked in her shirt on the way outside. She jumped into her white Chevy, backed it out of the drive and steered towards her grandfather’s place on the far side of the Reserve. Parking in the yard, Wilma didn’t bother with the door; she knew he’d be sitting out back. He had the chess board set up on the low table under the Arbutus tree, and was waiting there for her, with two cups of steaming coffee. She loved him so. It was his idea that she attend UBC, and he was the one that had researched online for the grant she’d used to buy the New Moon. For an old man, she smiled to herself, he sure has mastered the internet. And chess.

She kissed his forehead and sat down on the lawn chair in front of the white pieces. He always played the black pieces. They were the ones of defence. White attacks, black defends. ‘At least,’ she thought, ‘that’s the way Chess starts.’ She knew it could quickly change if White missteps and gives Black the opportunity to become the attacker. She reached to play her usual first move. White King’s Pawn to K4. Her grandfather closed his eyes and leaned back to let the morning sun wash over his face. Slowly he opened his eyes, looked at her, and said:

“If White always makes the same move, what’s the point of changing things?”

He stood, picked up his coffee and walked inside.

Wilma sat there stunned. Realising that he already knew about the Plan, she burst out laughing. She grabbed her cup and followed him in.

Harry Thorn watched his granddaughter as she came through the door. When she finally sat down, Harry told her that the Plan is to make Vancouver Island a separate country, to keep it out of the United States, “ but on friendly terms, of course.”

This caught Wilma completely by surprise and Wilma rarely got caught. She thought the Plan was for ALL of British Columbia to become a new country.

“No. Too many resources in the north-east part of the province. The U.S. covets the petrochemicals and the hydro systems.”

She thought about the 95% US-owned gas delivery systems networked across the entire Province; she’d watched as the Canadian companies had been purchased, or acquired through controlling interest stock exchanges. “You’re right,” she said, “they wouldn’t give it up.”

“But,” he added, “Americans don’t really know about this place – the island – and what they do know of it, they’ll be willing to let go – in trade for the mainland. If the States did know what is really here, the Planners would never be able to pull this off. I thought everything was going to fall to hell when that geologist from Nova Scotia showed up. Now, my sources aren’t able to pick up anything further on him.”

She told her grandfather, in complete detail, everything she knew about David. Harry already knew much of it, but when she told her grandfather that she had told Adam about Dr. Heath and the discovery, he was absolutely thrilled.

“Good!” he shouted. “The Planners got to him then. So either he and his knowledge are on their side, or he is no longer a threat to them. Either way, there is still hope for us.” He continued excitedly, “What the Planners may not know though, or maybe they do, is that we wont agree to this unless the First Nations become an active part of the new country. They need what we bring to the table. We all need this, Wilma – all of us.”

She told him that she was to meet with the Planners soon and everything needed to be worked out by then. He told her that the announcement of Vancouver Island becoming a separate country probably would not occur until right before the Province falls, so they should have enough time to prepare. He had already spoken online, through e-mail and in chat, with most of the elders on the island. Some good ideas had been offered about self sufficiency, if they were lucky enough to see the end of the welfare state. They absolutely did not want to be part of the American Bureau of Indian Affairs Reservation system. They would rather be here, cut loose on their own and fail, or even die – than to ever live again on someone else’s terms. It was all they had ever wanted.

Wilma and her grandfather filled the day discussing the things that would happen when the Plan became public; they spent the night developing scenarios and possibilities, strategies and tactics. They knew what was at stake. There was a country to build.