From high above Ryan thought he could detect the remains of a long causeway stretching out toward the distant land, but some earth shift seemed to have dropped it below sea level. For the first time it came to him that they might have serious problems in trying to get off the island.
Halfway down the rippled roadway they found a stone shelter, roofless, at an overlook.
Acadia National Park. Scenic View, said a wooden notice, deeply carved, set into the landmark wall.
“You might be interested, Jak,” Doc said. “The Acadians, or Arcadians, were what became the Cajuns from down around your part.”
The boy nodded, the light breeze tugging at the white froth of hair that tumbled over his narrow shoulders.
“Look at burn bits.” Lori pointed at the sill of the great open window. The wood was charred and scorched, rotting where a hundred years of rain had penetrated it.
“Must have been some heavy hot spots around here,” J.B. said.
“One of the bad parts, if we’re truly in New England, here,” Krysty replied. “Uncle Tyas McCann was real wise. Said the west and southerly-west got burned badly by the missiles. But the long winter came hardest up this way.”
“Let’s settle it.” The Armorer reached into one of his capacious pockets and pulled out the tiny, folding sextant. He took a sight at the sun and then busied himself with his creased maps and calculations. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Nearest big ville I can work is Boston.”
“Acadia was up in Maine,” Doc said. “As near as I can recall.”
“Look.” Krysty pointed to the back of the rough shelter. There was a silvery metal plaque, around five feet long and eighteen inches deep. It had an etched map of the coastline across from the harbor, with names on it, and a few lines of text.
“It’s called Ile au Haut,” Ryan told them. “This island we’re on.”
Ryan scanned the lines of text about the national park. “Says here that there’s a mountain over there on the big island. Cadillac Mountain. The first rays of sunlight to touch the old United States used to brush the top of it. Talks about all the hiking trails there are around this island.”
“Looks like someone tried to chisel this last bit away,” Krysty commented, stooping to peer at it. “You can still read it, though.”
“Where?” Doc asked.
“There.” She indicated the last section of the incised text.
“Ah, yes.”
All of them could read it, though Lori and Jak had problems with some of the longer words on the inscription.
Ile au Haut was once part of Acadia National Park. Founded in 1919, it was the first such park in the east and remained the only one in all of New England. For nearly eighty years the forty thousand acres of Acadia provided a haven for all lovers of nature. In 1996 the governmentin its wisdompushed through the bill that took He au Haut away from the national park system and handed it to the military for the building of a massive, secret establishment.
“They mean the redoubt,” Lori said.
“Yes,” Doc sighed. “Right, child. They surely do.”
There was nationwide outrage at this decision and protests by environmental groups from all over the world. An attempt by Greenpeace to thwart the plans ended in tragedy and the deaths of dozens of protestors. This taking of Acadia was followed in the next months by the government’s assuming control, through the Pentagon, of all national parks. Be warned all who come after This is only the beginning.
Doc Tanner rubbed absently at the scratched metal. “The times were changing, friends,” he said quietly. “Wasn’t any use to block up the hall. The wheel was in spin.”
“No success like failure, Doc,” Krysty said. “And failure’s no damned success at all.”
Doc nodded. “He had it right, ma’am, and no mistake. And here’s all that’s left. Nature coming back and covering it all up.”
“Surprised the military left this here,” Ryan said, pointing at the plaque.
The old man sniffed despondently. “They’d got what they wanted here. Why bother anymore?”
J.B. moved outside the rained shelter, peering down towards the water. “If we’re getting off this island today, we’d best start.”