Rebel Yell
A Novel of Canadian Revolt

2024-05-01

All hell breaks loose. In Canada

University of Ottawa honours psychology student Zoë Côté is trying really hard to complete her degree. But Canadian political affairs captivate her as she watches a growing revolt.

Together with Canadian history major Kat Sternthal and date-that-won't-go-away journalism major Demetrius "D.C." Chinda, Zoë carefully follows the online rhetoric of rebel Eugene Simard as it counters the calm streaming voice of Indigenous Relations Professor Amanda Young.

A sudden uprising at a funeral for two slain police officers shocks the nation and begins a chain of events which shatters the highest echelons of Canadian power and sweeps away its leaders. As political unrest and civil disobedience escalate, Zoë, Kat and D.C. find themselves caught up in a full-scale Canadian rebellion. Can they avoid the law while trying to save the Canada they love?

Find out in this intelligent thriller that clashes extremism and obedience in Canada's climate of discord and division.

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Excerpts

Zoë and Kat were approaching Stanton Residence, carrying their groceries, when a older model Volkswagen Jetta pulled up, slowed abruptly and then did a 180-degree turn to stop beside them, facing the wrong direction on the one-way campus street.

A man in his mid-20s leaned his head out the driver's side window and shouted, "Zoë!"

Music could be heard coming from the Jetta's interior.

"That's a Christmas Carol!" Kat exclaimed.

Zoë looked away and rolled her eyes.

"His name is Demetrius Chinda – 'D.C.' for short – and he's someone to whom I granted a date."

Kat stared at Zoë incredulously.

"Why would you–?"

"Now he won't go away!" Zoë exclaimed.

"Zoë!" D.C. shouted again, leaning his upper body out of the car window.

"Have you caught the news?" the man persisted. "There's going to be a revolution!"

"That's Joy to the World!" Kat exclaimed again. "I'm Jewish and even I know that!"

"He's a bit … eccentric," Zoë admitted.

"D.C.!" Zoë shouted back at him.

"You can't follow me around and stop traffic!" she commanded. "Don't you have research to do?"

"Ah, come on, Zoë," D.C. replied. "One more coffee," he continued. "I promise you'll fall in love with me."

At this point, Kat was compelled to comment.

"I think you should stay away from this guy," she advised. "He's stalking you!"

"He's harmless," Zoë countered. "He's doing his Master's in journalism at Carleton University."

"Tonight at 7 p.m. at the Sandy Hill Pub 'n' Grub," D.C. proposed. "We'll discuss the pending rebellion," he continued.

"Bring your friend."

"Ugh," Kat spat out.

Zoë looked from Kat to D.C. and then back to Kat.

"What harm can come of it?" she asked.

"I am interested in learning his theory about a so-called revolution," Zoë continued.

"Join us, please, Kat," she pleaded. "If only to look out for me."

Kat studied Zoë intensely for a moment.

"Fine," she conceded. "But don't ask me to like the guy."

Zoë breathed a sigh of relief and turned to D.C.

"Deal," she told him. "Now get back to Carleton University before you cause an accident!"

Marc Benoit sighed. He was tired and not looking forward to the meeting. At 63-years-old, he had one foot out to pasture.

The assistant deputy minister of the Canadian Ministry of Public Safety was valued in his job for having a lifetime of knowledge, experience and skills in national security, in general, and in the safety of individual Canadians, in particular. But he tired of the endless sequence of meetings, memos, studies, reports, ministerial briefings and the like. About the only thing he didn't have to do in his position was communicate with the public and the media. The ministry's communication branch's personnel did that.

Benoit ran his hand through his full head of thick white hair. It was Tuesday, September 5, 2023 and his fatigue was due to the many family obligations he had met throughout the Labour Day week-end which had just finished. But this meeting was important so he tried his best to mentally prepare for it. In the Canadian Ministry of Public Safety, everything was important. On days like this, he wished he had joined the Canadian Ministry of Parks instead when he was younger.

It was to be a Zoom meeting. The Ideologically Motivated Violent Extremism Task Force met at 9 a.m. each Monday morning and Benoit was its chair. This week it was held on Tuesday, though, due to the Monday having been a statutory holiday. The meeting would be attended by representatives from the Canadian Security Intelligence Service, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, the Canada Centre for Community Engagement and the Prevention of Violence, and the Integrated Terrorism Assessment Centre. In addition, updates from partner agencies around the world would be presented. The task force's purpose – as laid out in its terms of reference in full bureaucratic ramble as only the Canadian government could produce – was to identify individuals and groups in Canada who were prone to violence based on extreme beliefs. Benoit was well aware of the task force's importance. His enthusiasm and energy for it were absent, however.

His energy increased substantially when the Zoom meeting was in full progression and Benoit learned that there had been few developments to report over the last week. His enthusiasm returned when he concluded there would be no reason for him to brief the minister at this time.

The task force noticed a steep rise in YouTube subscribers for a Eugene Simard from about 50,000 to about 100,000; his "What Happened to my Canada?" channel rhetoric seemed to be less towards idealism but more toward presenting facts and figures to his viewers, however. A similar rise in podcast listeners was noticed for a University of Manitoba Indigenous Relations Professor named Amanda Young who preached reform over revolt using a calm reassuring voice.

Benoit adjourned the meeting and sighed again. Nothing to report this week, he thought as he walked toward the elevator. A rapid descent down 21 floors would be followed by a scurry to the City of Ottawa sidewalk. It was the only location left where Benoit was allowed to smoke a cigarette.

And with that, any alert to the minister of public safety about the brewing storm – calm, yes, but unimportant, no – went up in smoke.

D.C. lay on his bed in his room in the Glebe rooming house. He was restless. He rose from the bed and put on his winter jacket. He grabbed his car keys.

I need to get out of this room, he thought.

D.C. got into his car and took his usual route to Sandy Hill. He passed by the Pub 'n' Grub but its lights were out and its doors were locked.

What a state of affairs! D.C. remarked to himself. So, this is a rebellion, he thought. It's not what I thought it would be.

Both the University of Ottawa and Carleton University had cancelled all classes and all sports and extra-curricular activities until further notice. The University of Ottawa campus was a ghost town as D.C. drove through it.

He drove slowly down the campus one-way street that he had driven down the day he had come across Zoë with Kat walking beside her. He wanted to see Zoë again but he knew he couldn't. Not under these conditions.

D.C. drove down to Rideau Street and looked into the grocery store windows, or what was left of them. Many of them were now boarded up, having been smashed by looters and vandals on Halloween night. The store itself was closed.

How will I eat? D.C. asked himself. The Sandy Hill Pub 'n' Grub and the grocery store are both closed, he thought.

Rebellion! D.C. said to himself, again. It's not what I thought it would be.

D.C. drove back to his room in the Glebe. He didn't put on any Christmas music. A hum of noise could be heard in his car. It came from outside the car and was punctuated by the sound of breaking glass.

It's the hum of mayhem and havoc, D.C. thought. It's the hum of danger.

Upon arriving at the rooming house, he went upstairs to his room and looked at the Canada News Network app on his mobile phone. He was looking for news updates.

Canada News Network had a recent article describing how Canada's Chief of Defence Staff Rémi Martel had issued a civic order for all Canadians to shelter in place.

That means I can't go out again, D.C. thought. How, exactly, am I to find food to eat?

D.C. continued to read the news article. It described the hum of noise he had heard in the car existing in all Canadian cities. It quoted witnesses hearing the sounds of screams and other loud noises from the streets. It didn't describe any fires, but it was still daylight.

Those fires tend to get ignited at night, D.C. told himself.

D.C. closed the news article on the Canada News Network app and put down his mobile phone. He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

"There's been some social media chatter," the Integrated Terrorism Assessment Centre representative told Marc Benoit over the telephone.

"It's sporadic and isolated but we believe it to be significant," the representative added.

"Why do you believe this social media chatter to be significant?" Benoit asked the Integrated Terrorism Assessment Centre representative.

Benoit pushed the button on his desk.

"Get the Chief of Defence Staff on the telephone," he told his executive assistant. "Priority one."

"Right away," the woman replied.

D.C., Kat and Zoë had been walking west on Rideau Street when the mayhem began. The three university students stopped dead in their tracks and simply stared at the pandemonium playing out in front of them.

Zoë screamed. Kat shouted, "Run!" D.C. grabbed both Zoë and Kat by the shoulders, turned them around and pushed them in front of him east on Rideau Street. He then began to run, pushing the women ahead of him. They, too, began to run. They ran east on Rideau Street toward the west entrance of the mall.