Salute the Flag
	by Kandrel

"I bring to order this session of the Committee to End Oppression."

Davey brought the stone in his hand down hard on the exposed bedrock, making a satisfying click and throwing a few errant sparks.  Gathered around the glow of a cheap flashlight, his fellow committee members were clad in the most concealing and robe-like garments they could find amongst their various summer camp clothes.  Around them, the various creatures of the dark sang their nightly anthems as the collected conspirators jumped nervously at every unexpected noise.

"Roger will now speak the pledge."  Davey intoned solemnly.

"Do I have to?"  Roger's voice was slim and reedy, barely loud enough to be heard over the forest denizens that surrounded the covert meeting.

"What?"  Reflective retinas shined from within Davey's concealing hood as he glanced at the recalcitrant member.

"It's stupid."  Roger flung the hood of his jumper back, revealing a nervous squirrel whose whiskers twitched incessantly.  "I don't want to speak the pledge anymore."

Silence reigned for scant moments, before Davey threw back his own hood.  A tawny, feline muzzle scowled in irritation at the squirrel.  "Don't be an idiot, Roger.  You wrote the damn thing."

The squirrel hung his head quietly but maintained his petulance.  "So?  It's still stupid.  You told me what I needed to write, so you basically wrote it anyway."

A third member piped up, a rich female voice that commanded immediate attention.  "Look, if you guys aren't going to take this seriously, I'm going back to my cabin."

"Fine, I'll say your stupid pledge."  The response was immediate.  Roger had just recently reached the age where he realized that girls demanded some different kind of treatment than the normal person, and the epiphany didn't sit well with his normal routine of frogs and lizards on their heads and down the backs of their shirts when they weren't looking.  He pulled a scrap of notebook paper from the pocket of his jumper and held it at an oblique angle to the flashlight.

"We, the members of the Committee to End Oppression, do swear that we will save our glorious Camp Rainfurrest from the clutches of the vile Counselor Stevens.  And to the republic for which our camp stands, with liberty and fun for all."  Roger paused to pull a face.  "Amen."

"Amen."  The gathered committee echoed the last word.  It sounded very official.

"Now, we've have a new member today.  I'd like everyone to welcome Rohan."  Davey continued.

"Hi."  The newcomer didn't have a dark, concealing robe, so he made due with a tie-died hoodie with a floral theme.

"Wriggly Rohan?"  The female asked.

The tie-died hood was yanked down, and a juvenile fox threw an angry look at the girl.  "Don't call me 'Wriggly'."

"You know the rules, Tamara.  Everyone here deserves to use their own name."

"But it's Wriggly."  Tamara finally lowered her hood and a more mature ferret glared haughtily at the fox.  "Didn't he fall into the lake during sailing lessons, and the counselor had to go rescue him-"

"I didn't mean to."  The fox cried indignantly.  "Not my fault I can't swim."

"Come on, Tamara, he wants to help us out."  Davey wheedled.  Tamara was their only member who was almost old enough to be a counselor herself.  She was almost a teenager, and that made her useful.

"Fine."  She huffed.  "As long as I don't have to save him from the deep end if he falls in again."

"You don't have to talk about me like I'm not here."  Rohan grumbled half-heartedly, but the complaints ended there.  He wasn't about to refuse the olive branch once it'd been offered.

The group rearranged itself again, with hoods being drawn back over anxious ears.  "Right.  So, welcome Rohan.  Rohan, you bring with you news of atrocities committed by the dread Counselor Stevens, do you not?"

"I, uh..."  The fox stuttered for a moment.  "Yes, I do verily, I, uh..."

"What did you say?"  Roger squinted as he leaned forward into the glare of the flashlight.

"I mean I do."

"Then why didn't you say that?"

"I thought I did."

"Just say what you heard, Rohan."  Davey stepped into the growing uncomfortable silence.  "You'll be taught the...  Errr..."

"The proper language of the Committee to End oppression."  Tamara finished for him.

"Right, that."

Rohan pulled his hood down again.  The sunset hadn't been long ago, the forest was warm, too warm for hoods.  With his head steaming slightly in the dew, he began his story.

"Well, Mike in cabin 3 told me that Counselor Stevens wakes everyone in his cabin at five thirty am in the morning!"  The last rose to an indignant squeal.

"Five thirty?!"  The committee was impressed -- that was a vile act indeed.

"Yeah, five thirty!  Then 'cuz his alarm clock is so loud that no one can really get back to sleep before he gets up and blows that trumpet."

"The trumpet of doom!"  Davey mouthed.  The trumpet was well known.  Every morning at six twenty-eight, Counselor Stevens woke the camp with his infernal racket a whole two minutes before he was supposed to.

They nodded.  This simply served to further cement their opinion of the counselor.  "Is that all, junior committee member Rohan?"

"No!"  The fox yipped.  "There's more!  Mike told me that last night, Counselor Stevens had found out that Luke had a stash of candy hidden in his trunk."

They nodded at that.  They'd all bought candy from campers like Luke before.  Those stashes were sacrosanct.  No one dare lay a finger on the keepers of the candy.

"Mike said that Stevens confiscated the whole lot, and that it's all being held in the camp locker until camp ends."  There was a collective gasp.  "That's a whole two weeks away!"  Rohan added for effect.

"What?  Luke's stash got taken?"  Finally, Tamara spoke up again.  "That ahhh...  Err..."  She trailed off.  She'd been told that girls weren't supposed to swear.  She'd had to curtail a quarter of her vocabulary.  "That bully!"

"Truly a vile deed."  Davey intoned.  There were nods around the circle (or, more accurately, square.)  There was silence again.  It trailed on for uncomfortable moments before he piped up again.

"Right, then I call this meeting of the Committee to End Oppression ended."

-----

The day began crisply at six twenty eight on the dot with the morning recital of Reveille on a cheap tin bugle clasped in Counselor Stevens' icy fingers.  The morning cacophony of complaints heralded the dawn from the dry and scratchy throats of almost four hundred campers packed into twenty rickety woodland cabins.  The few early risers that could survive the harrowing hour of the morning scampered to the latrines to grab showers before the hot water ran cold, followed in clumps and scraggles of bleary eyed youngsters.

With his fur still wet from his shower, Davey raced across the icy void between the latrines and his cabin.  His feet slid and stumbled on the gravel footpath, speed unabated as he struggled to make it back into the warm cabin before ice crystals started to form in his pelt.  The morning was cloudy and fog hugged the ground like a freezing blanket.

"Davey!"  The shout tore through the morning frost like a gunshot.  His feet skidded on the loose scree of the path, sending pebbles flying into the bark mulch verge.  Dreading what he'd find, Davey slowly turned to face the shout.

"Don't run barefoot on the gravel!"  Facing him from a hundred paces off was Counselor Stevens.  The Counselor was a wolf in his late teens, and his superiority was written proudly in his stance and his attire.  He was fully dressed and already looking his vilest, far from appropriate at this cursed time of the morning.  "I swear you kids are intentionally trying to hurt yourself."

Davey dropped his head and stared at the path.  "Yes Counselor Stevens."  He turned and began to trudge to his cabin, but his slow shamble was interrupted.

"Not good enough.  I've seen you running every morning, Davey.  Go back and do it right this time."  Davey could already feel his damp fur start to harden in clumps where it met the frigid morning air.

"But it's cold out-"

"Then you should have dried off properly.  I said go back and do it again."

With a defeated scowl, Davey tromped back to the latrine.  With the counselor's eye tracing every step, he retraced his path.  Even with his face a rigid mask of anger, he couldn't keep his jaw from chattering in the cold.  By the time he reached the showers again, his teeth were rattling, and by the time he'd reversed and made his way to his cabin under Stevens' cold gaze, his entire body was shaking with the force of his shivers.

"Right.  Don't let me catch you running barefoot on the gravel again."

Davey threw himself into the cabin, clipping off the last of the Counselor's words.  Damn him, Davey thought to himself as he used the towel to pull at icy clumps of his pelt.  His fingers and toes hurt, and that must mean that he'd been close to frostbite.  That'd show the camp right, if one of the campers got frostbite because of Stevens.

By the time he was warm again, the sun had crested above the treeline and the temperature outside had risen to "tolerable."  First on the day's schedule came breakfast, then arts and crafts with the Mrs. Olive, a matronly bear who could work wonders with scissors, paste, and dried pasta.  Then archery down on the range, then swimming right before lunch.

Davey scowled at his toast as he finished the last of his lunch.  Next was sailing, and all sports out on the lake were run by Stevens.  He wouldn't have signed up if he'd known, but it was too late now.  As he slowly masticulated the last bite, though, he felt a tentative touch to his shoulder.

"Pssst, Davey."

Behind him, Rohan glanced about furtively.  Davey groaned and followed the scrawny fox's gaze.  There were counselors around, but no Stevens.  They were safe, or as safe as it was going to get.  "What?"

"Remember I can't swim?"

Davey rolled his eyes.  "Yeah.  So?"

"So be my partner in sailing today?"

"They still let you do sailing?"

"Well, there are life jackets"  The fox glanced around again.  "But-"

"But nothing.  I'm not going to babysit you."  Davey picked up his tray.  Sure, the little squirt was part of the Committee now, but that didn't mean he had to act NICE to him.

The fox's tail bristled and a low growl stuttered from his muzzle.  "I've got an idea, but it won't work if you don't help."

Davey paused, then shrugged.  "Okay, fine.  I'll be your partner today.  Happy?"

"Not yet."  The fox glanced around again, then whispered a bit too loudly, "Tell Tamara and...  And...  Uh..."

"Roger."

"Tell him to be around too."

Davey stalked away from the table, running the conversation over in his mind.  Plans were dangerous.  Plans got you in trouble, and then you'd have to talk to the Director, and none of the campers wanted to talk to Her.  Oh, sure, they all smiled and clapped when she gave the opening speech at the beginning, but no one wanted to actually talk to her.  She was the Director, and she was above even the Counselors.  She was the camp itself, and she was scary.

But a plan was a plan, and it was more than any of the others had since the Committee had been formed.  What was the point of it, if they couldn't act?  It wasn't the committee to talk about but put up with oppression.  If they wanted to end it, they'd eventually need to follow someone's plan.

So when buddies were chosen at the start of Sailing, he withstood the glares and giggles as he intentionally picked Wriggly.  Usually the little fox had to wait until everyone else had been chosen, and someone was forced to partner him.  Today, though, he beamed as the older camper took his hand.

Counselor Stevens scowled at them as they took their little one-man (or two-camper) sailboat from where it was sloppily moored at the dock.  That's okay, though, Davey told himself.  He'd scowled yesterday, too, and the day before.  He scowled at everyone, so today was no different.  In a motley procession of clashing colors, the sailboats slowly meandered towards the open water.

From out on the water, the camp seemed almost peaceful.  The frenzied scurryings of campers as they whizzed deliriously from one adventurous activity to the next seemed like the scattering of ants from the distance.  Out here the water was serene, tranquil, and only the mild breeze disturbing the sail could interrupt the pleasant afternoon.

"Push me."

Davey had to crane around the sail to look at Rohan.  The little fox had screwed his eyes shut and his fists were clenched to his sides.  From between gritted teeth, he repeated the request.

"Push me, I mean it."

"Are you crazy?  You can't swim."  Davey scowled as he manned the loose rudder at the back, fiddling his bare feet among the handles of the paddles in the miniature sailboat's hull.  They hadn't been taught to tack properly yet.

"Push me already!  I said I had a plan, didn't I?"

Here was where the trouble started, Davey thought to himself.  Nothing else for it.  "Fine."  Davey shrugged, then used one hand to flop his partner overboard.  Rohan gave no resistance as he tilted back into the water, then disappeared beneath the murky surface with a resounding splash.

There were gasps from nearby boats, and a curse from one further out-- Counselor Stevens had noticed.  Within seconds, the water erupted with frenzied splashes just a few feet from where the fox had disappeared.  Rohan gurgled and cried as he bobbed on the surface, the safety-orange life jacket hiding most of the little fox's ruddy muzzle.

"Davey, don't you dare move an inch.  You're going to be speaking to the director for this."  Off to his right, a greyish body sporting bright green swim trunks stretched out over the water as the Counselor dove.  Within moments, the flailing Rohan was propelled back up onto Davey's schooner, followed in just moments by the steel-gray hand of Counselor Stevens.  He gripped the boat's rim and rose from the depths, eyes flashing like ruby lasers as they scathed over Davey.

"Right, back to dock, now."  The counselor's voice was soft, but it masked a hidden rage, boiling just beneath the surface.  Almost as chilled as the shivering vulpine next to him, Davey unhooked the latch and furled the sail, then dragged out the paddles.

The counselor had already re-boarded his own boat by the time Davey was making for the dock.  "All of you, in to dock now."  His voice carried over the placid lake surface, and the miniature sailboats sprouted paddles, one-by-one, and followed in a disconsolate line.

Back on shore, the counselor quickly took control.  "Emily."  One of the other campers stepped forward.  "Go fetch the director."  As she scampered off, Davey wilted under the counselor's gaze.

"You're going to sit here until the director gets here.  If you even fidget, I'll know."  The wolf grumbled under his breath and picked pond-scum out of his fur, and while the rest of the campers began to scatter to their next activity, the Counselor stepped into the boat-house with a towel slung over his shoulder.  As he receded into the bathroom, Davey heard him mutter "Damn twerp, I just showered."

With the counselor out of sight, Davey turned around in a panic.  "This better be a good plan.  What do we do-"  He stopped, because the little fox had disappeared.  Red rage tinted his vision and his tail lashed against the ground.  He'd been set up!  What had he done to deserve this?  He'd never bullied the little fox, so why was he going to be punished for-

"Davey!  Take this and walk away.  Don't run."  Rohan appeared at his elbow and shoved something into his grasp.  Then, while Davey stood stunned in the shade of the boathouse, the little fox yelled and sprinted away.

Behind him, Counselor Stevens rocketed out of the boathouse.  "Get back here!  I swear I'm going to make this the worst day of your life, you little brat!"  Davey had to blink twice before his eyes registered the sight.  Counselor Stevens was naked, gray fur drenched and still foamed with soap from the shower.  Campers scattered at the sight, then watched in abject shock as the de-garmented wolf tore after Rohan.

Walk away slowly, right?  Davey numbly turned towards the center of the camp, trying to hide his precious cargo against his belly.  One glance confirmed his hopes and fears.  In his hands were the startlingly green swim trunks that had so recently adorned Counselor Stevens.

"I'm going to catch you, Rohan!"  Off towards the arts and crafts hut, the counselor's enraged voice floated up from the distance.  Davey could only see flashes of red and gray fur from between the trees.

Hah, Wriggly had done it!  No, Davey mentally rearranged that.  Not Wriggly, Rohan had done it.  And now was his chance to make it count.  With a measured gait, he acted every ounce of the head of the Council to End Oppression in a confident, leisurely stroll.  In the center of the campsite were Roger and Tamara.  They'd answered his call and now stood confused and waiting.

"Roger, speak the pledge."  Davey grinned a cheshire grin as he marched to the flagpole that adorned the very center of the campsite.

Off in the distance, shrieks followed the trail of Counselor Stevens.  Rohan had gone to ground, and now the sky clad wolf was hunting cabin to cabin.  Shocked campers erupted into an outcry as he passed.

"Right now, out here in public?"  Roger wilted, looking about nervously.

"Right now, Roger.  And make this one count."  With four long pulls, Davey lowered the flag and detached it from the line.  In its place went the green trunks.

They were interrupted by the shrill exclamation of the Director as she found her counselor stalking naked through the camp.  "Mr. Stevens!  Well I never...  Cover yourself at once."

"It was the campers, ma'am.  They-"  His voice cut off abruptly.

Davey yanked, and the sound of rope hitting the pole echoed across the camp's sudden silence.  When the director was yelling, all other voices quieted, and all ears turned to listen.  Suddenly grasping the moment, Roger intoned, "We, the members of the Committee to End Oppression, do swear that we will-"

He was interrupted again by a shriek.  "Mr. Stevens, I will not have you on my campgrounds without your modesty.  I don't care what circumstances led to-"

"I tell you, it was Rohan and Davey, and that lot of-"

"And I will not be interrupted, either!"

Roger couldn't hide his smile as he listened to the tirade.  The shouting carried clearly, even though they were a hundred feet distant.  He blithely continued, "-will save our glorious Camp Rainfurrest from the clutches of the vile Counselor Stevens."

The director's shout echoed off of the nearby administration buildings.  "Mr. Stevens, you will find something to cover yourself, and then you will report immediately to my office."

Davey stepped back from the flagpole and saluted.  Tamara joined him, then Roger, still repeating the pledge.  "And to the republic for which our camp stands-"

"I swear to you, it wasn't my fault."  Counselor Stevens panicked refusal drifted like music to their ears.

"Enough.  I believe, Mr. Stevens, that we need to discuss your continued employment at this camp.

By unspoken law of the camp, wherever at least three campers congregate, more will inevitably join them.  More and more campers, young and old (well, at least older) gathered near the flagpole to watch.  Whether by rote or habit, a few even joined in the salute.

"With liberty and fun for all."  Roger finished the pledge.  Next to him, Rohan stepped forward from the crowd, still panting and out of breath.  As one, the four members of the committee opened their mouths and finished the pledge, "Ame-"

"What are you all doing here?"  The shrill voice of the director scythed through the crowd as she prowled into their midst.  She clapped her hands twice.  "Come on, everyone back to their activities."

There were guilty mutterings from the spontaneously assembled campers.  The director looked about with a baffled scowl.  "And someone take those pants off of the flagpole.  It's unsanitary."

The crowd dispersed while Roger, Rohan, Davey, and Tamara grinned at each other.  "Tonight again, behind Cabin 5?"  Rohan asked hopefully.

"Sorry, the Committee to End Oppression won't be meeting again."  The other three frowned as Davey spoke, but their sorrow was short lived.  "However, the newly-formed Committee that Ended Oppression will be meeting behind cabin 5 just after dark."

The four conspirators shared a grin.  Then, before the director could question them, they turned away and scampered off towards the rest of their summer.