St. George, Utah would work out fine with all the newcomers pouring in and plenty of boomtown distractions.
Nobody would pay much attention to her. When she needed to steal a car she could easily run down to Vegas.
She slipped back into thoughts she had been considering back in Burbank, where she spent three days in a hotel room working to break down something big into something small.
But first she had to define her problem. She figured feelings were blurring facts and to get to the facts she found it difficult to tame her waves of anger. If there was a way to set aside her disgust over the greed of opportunists exploiting natural resources, she didn’t know how.
She didn’t know how to stop the exploitation or what she should do. There were enough conservation organizations, presumably with enough funding to pay for lawyers to fight the opportunists.
There were legal avenues to follow, the California Environmental Quality Act and the National Environmental Policy Act. Not avenues for her. She was no attorney, no scientist. Just a woman who wanted to do something to protect the land and take down the plunderers.
When it came to government goals of phasing out fossil fuels, she was skeptical. She didn’t like skepticism which struck her as defeatist. And she didn’t like her chances of taking on too many enemies. Even three on a list of targets now seemed too many.
Just one would do for starters. One organization getting away with ecological murder the courts hadn’t seen fit to stop. Preferably an organization that lied and considered itself above the law.
To fight back she would transplant her skill at stealing cars and money. All she needed was one battleline drawn, one point of counterattack.
Up in Saint George, Utah her indignation flared up like a relentless wildfire.
