"Like the peak?"
"Yeah. Well, it was originally just on account of my name, but my Gram showed me a book about all the people who died climbing Mt. Kechu. She's a librarian. A subversive one."
"No, kid," Jason said, laughing, "your Gram's a leader!"
The dusty building site where the encampment had been was empty when they arrived, and a portable cyclone fence had been erected across the street side of the lot, the only one that didn't have a fence on it already.
"Okay," Kendrik said, "so now what?"
"I suppose we could try to figure out where they took everyone," Jason said, "or" we could bust this gate open and retake the camp."
"Retake the camp?" Marty said doubtfully. "What good would that do? There's just the three of us."
Kendrik looked at him for a moment, and then gazed out across the vacant lot. "You just reminded me of something my Gram messaged last week," he said. "It only takes one person to change the world."
They both eyed him curiously.
"And like you said, there are three of us."
"So what'd you have in mind, K2?"
A mischievous grin lit his face. "Turnabout. Put out the word. Reconstitute the encampment. Only this time we keep the little present they left the Occupy."
"Now, now," a gravelly voice said from behind them, "I don't think that's a very good idea, little man."
They turned, and found themselves facing a very smug-looking porker in a business suit.
"Well then," he said, "I'm Wendell Jones."
"The high-rise developer, right?" said Jason. "Yeah. I've seen your slimy propaganda on what passes for the news in this city."
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