give Cranberry a parting smirk as the flap drops into place. Damn it. The ringing in my ears won’t stop.
“Look!” Olivia swipes through her iPhone, staring at the screen.
“It’s too early to look at something so bright.”
“You want to see this.”
I snatch a long-sleeve from the sleeping bag, pulling it over my head as I kneel beside her. She pulls up an article and blows up the headline for me to read.
Small town, U.S.A. slated for destruction.
It’s about us. Holy shit, they even have photos of our tents. “I sent them pictures,” she explains. “There are a couple others just like it!”
Cranbury Resorts Buys Town
Another Rich Asshole Has Decided to Build a Resort over Yosemite Paradise
The last article has hundreds of comments, and it was only published a few hours ago. I scan the list of outraged sentences, most of them blaming the Cranburys. Damn. They’re out for blood.
“This is great,” Olivia says, thumbing through them. “Some of them are promising to boycott the hotels until they reverse their decision. Look, there’s even a Facebook page, too!”
She clicks on it, revealing a badly photoshopped banner of forest with the words “SAVE FAIR OAKS” stamped across it. There are memes splashed all over the news feed, threats against the Cranburys, and there’s even an organized effort to carpool here.
“They’re coming here? Why?”
“To help protest. Look there’s—oh my God.”
I lean in closer, peering at the tiny screen. She’s on another Facebook page: the San Francisco Housing Coalition.
Olivia laughs. “Look at these comments. ‘Residency has become a joke in SF. How dare these bastards try to justify what they’re trying to do.’ ‘Another case of the blue-collar class being economically raped by the rich.’”
Wow. “Wait—so people from the city are coming here?”
She punches my shoulder. “We’re not all a bunch of entitled jackasses, you know. And if it’s one thing that San Francisco hippies hate, it’s evictions like these. This is all over the news. I’m sure more people will come.”
My stomach freezes as I imagine cars full of flannel-wearing hipsters with man buns invading my town.
A magnified voice blares into the tent. “Attention, Fair Oaks! Your hour is up.”
I unzip the flap of the tent to see Evelyn standing in front of a line of police officers, holding a megaphone to her fuchsia lips.
“I have given you enough time to sort out your affairs over the last two weeks, and none of you chose to pack up your bags and leave. None of you cashed in your checks. It’s time to go. This protest will not be tolerated a moment longer.
“I do not wish to sully the Cranbury brand by having photos of citizens in handcuffs escorted from government property. So I have decided to charter a bus and pay for hotel arrangements for everyone—”
A male voice that sounds suspiciously like Jack’s rings out. “Suck my dick.”
She's smiling. In fact, she looks like she’s enjoying herself. “There’s no need for such dramatic displays. Do the sensible thing and pack up your belongings. I will allow you until three p.m. to gather your things, and then we will go forward with the demolition. Police officers will start arresting people right now.”
I shout at her, adding my voice to the chorus of enraged screams. The fucking bitch and her lapdogs think they can force us out.
Chris is talking to one of the officers, probably trying to buy us some time, but the man keeps shaking his head. The line of police start walking toward us with sleeves of those plastic zip-ties. My hands ball into fists. I’m not about to start a brawl with an officer, but we can’t just let them stomp over our town like this. I grab my jeans off the ground and pull them on, trembling with white-hot fury as they gear up to pack us all into squad cars.
The injustice of it rails in my flesh as I stare at them, wondering how the hell they’ll sleep at night knowing they stole the lives of everyone in Fair Oaks. Through the confusion of police officers marching through leaves and voices crying out for mercy, there’s Mark with his smug little grin. As if he enjoys our pain. My hands tighten into fists as I make a beeline for him, knowing I won’t be able to stop until he’s a bloody pulp.
Then a distant roar trembles the ground. Everyone looks toward the source, the raging sounds growing louder. There’s something bright in the distance. Sunlight dazzling over chrome, blinding my