Chapter 4

Chad took another step, jabbing a finger at my chest. "You have one hour, Ethan. Sign the papers, or we' ll make sure you have nothing left to run a business with."

The threat was clear. He wasn't just talking about a picket line. He was talking about violence.

"Are you threatening to destroy my property, Chad?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm. "Because that' s a crime. A felony. I' ll have every single one of you arrested."

Chad threw his head back and laughed, a loud, mocking sound. The crowd laughed with him.

"Arrested?" he scoffed. "Who' s gonna arrest us? The whole town is here! We' re not criminals, we' re citizens taking back what' s ours! This is justice!"

He looked over at Mayor Jenkins, a silent, knowing glance passing between them. The mayor gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. That was all the encouragement Chad needed. He turned back to me, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He had the mayor' s blessing. He had the mob' s power. He believed he was untouchable.

"The law?" Chad sneered. "You city boys always run to your lawyers and your laws. Out here, we have our own way of doing things. This is our town. Our rules."

The promise of personal gain had corrupted the mayor completely. He was willing to stand by and watch this happen, thinking he' d benefit from the chaos Chad was orchestrating. He thought he could let the mob do the dirty work, then sweep in to take control of the spoils.

Chad turned his back on me and faced the crowd. He raised his arms like a conquering hero.

"He won' t listen to reason!" he bellowed. "He leaves us no choice! He thinks a piece of paper can protect him! Let' s show him what the people of Harmony Springs think of his paper!"

It was like a switch was flipped. The low rumble of the crowd became a roar of action. A man near the front picked up a large rock from the gravel lot and hurled it at the warehouse. It slammed into the metal siding with a deafening clang.

That was the signal.

The crowd surged forward as one. They bypassed me, their focus entirely on the warehouses, on my life' s work. I watched in horror as they swarmed the buildings. Someone found a crowbar and pried open a side door. Others started shattering the ground-floor windows with rocks and pieces of scrap wood.

A wave of people poured into Warehouse Four, the heart of my operation. I heard the sickening sound of shattering glass, not just windows, but the specialized panes of the vertical growing towers. I heard the crash of metal as they overturned racks of equipment.

I ran after them, yelling, "Stop! Stop! You' re destroying everything!"

But no one was listening. They were in a frenzy, a fever of destruction. I saw Tim, the young technician I was mentoring, using a tire iron to smash the delicate sensors of a climate control unit. I saw Mrs. Gable, the sweet old lady from the church, kicking over a tray of seedlings, her face contorted in a mask of rage.

It was a nightmare. The purple glow of the LEDs was now a chaotic strobe, punctuated by the sparks of smashed electronics. The clean, nutrient-rich water flooded the concrete floor, mixing with dirt and debris. The perfect, organic greens, the product of so much science and care, were being trampled into a muddy pulp. My dream was being torn apart before my very eyes, by the very people I had come back to save.