Torched by April Henry Page A

outlets around the world.
    “So a few newspapers ran the story.” Hawk emerged from the kitchen. At his sarcastic tone, the room went completely quiet, as it hadn’t even for Cedar. “They also said that the dealer was back in business the next day. When I read that, I realized it was meaningless. It didn’t change a damn thing. The only thing that has changed is that now some people are calling us terrorists.”
    I flinched at hearing the same word Richter and Ponytail used. To make sure that no one in the room doubted my commitment, I spoke up. “That’s stupid. It wasn’t an act of terrorism. It was an act of love for the environment. Owning a Hummer— that’s an act of ecoterrorism.”
    “Whatever it was, Sky,” Hawk retorted, “it hasn’t kept people away from the Hummer dealership. It was a symbolic act, nothing more. We need to do something that makes a difference in the real world. Crap, there are probably people who want to buy a Hummer now because it makes them even more macho.”
    Cedar’s eyes narrowed. “We did real damage, Hawk. Millions of dollars’ worth. We hit the corporate machine right where it hurt, in the pocketbook. That’s the only language that’s spoken in this country.”
    “I think Hawk’s right,” Liberty said. “I mean, what did we really accomplish?” Meadow shot her a hurt look, but she didn’t see it. “When we burn a Hummer dealership, we’re not hurting the General Motors of the world. But sometimes you’ve got to ask yourself—what if we took out the president of General Motors? Then people would listen.”
    I put my elbows on my knees and leaned forward. It was happening like Richter had said it would. I made sure the watch face and the tiny microphone it concealed were pointed right at Liberty.
    “You know what MED stands for, Liberty,” Cedar said, “and what it doesn’t. MEDics don’t harm people.”
    Coyote nodded.
    “Or animals,” Blue said. “Don’t be species-ist.”
    “But I think Liberty’s right,” Hawk said. “The time is coming when we are going to have to go a step further. If someone has their hands around your throat strangling you, would you politely ask them to stop? Or would you defend yourself by any means necessary?”
    This was just the kind of thing Richter had been looking for. Even though it scared me, it also made me strangely excited. It had to be enough to get Matt off!
    “All right,” Cedar said, his face looking like it was carved out of stone, “are you looking for an action that is more than a symbol, more than economic resistance? An action that is literally a matter of life and death?”
    “What are you talking about?” Hawk demanded.
    “Have any of you ever seen a lynx?” Cedar looked around the room, clearly not expecting a response.
    Then Coyote said, “Yes.”
    All eyes turned to him.
    “My grandfather’s a big hunter. He’s the kind of guy who has a coatrack made out of deer hooves.” Seed moaned as Coyote continued, “Anyway, I think he’s got a stuffed lynx in his basement.” He took his arm from behind me and measured a space about a foot and a half high with his hands. “Like a bobcat, only with longer back legs, bigger feet and bigger ear tufts, right?”
    Cedar nodded. “That’s right. The last known lynx in Oregon was shot outside Corvallis thirty years ago. Who knows? It could even be the one in your grandfather’s basement.”
    He grabbed a folder off the top of the unlit woodstove and took out a color printout of a photograph. It showed a side view of a catlike animal with thick fur and back legs that were longer than its front ones.
    “Well, for those of you who haven’t seen a lynx, here’s one. In winter, their fur is silvery brown. In summer, it’s reddish. Sometimes they have dark brown spots, especially on their legs. They weigh about twenty pounds. They’re solitary and mostly nocturnal. And they’re listed as a threatened species in those few states where they still