Since Tomorrow

by Morgan Nyberg

  As Frost left, Brandon called “You ain’t as big as you think.”

  Frost picked up the bucket and went up another floor. In the corridor he set the bucket down and rested for a minute. Then he picked it up again and went along the corridor. In a room someone was coughing. He elbowed the plastic aside and went into this room. The air had a dense animal sweetness to it, a bad smell. Frost set the bucket of water in the bathroom. He tied back the plastic over the door with a length of twine that was tied to a nail.

  The man in the bed coughed weakly for a few seconds. His thick black hair was cut short. He had no beard. Stubble covered sunken cheeks. Frost bent and took a rag that lay by the man’s head and wiped a fleck of sputum from the corner of his lips.

  Frost said “You all right, Dunbar?”

  The man said in a low wheeze “Am I all right. What a question.” He managed a slight smile. He said “Don’t let them take the farm.”

  “No one’s taking the farm.’

  “I wish I could help.”

  “You’ve helped enough. There’s no one who’s helped more than you.” Frost took the man’s hand and lifted it and turned it so the man could see the palm. “Look at this skin.” The palm was brown, and dirt was ground deep into the hardened skin. “This is the farm.” Frost ran his finger across the calluses. He laid the hand back on the rabbit skins. “You just rest. And don’t worry. Is there anything else you need?”

  Dunbar shook his head.

  Frost left and continued down the corridor. Behind him Dunbar resumed his coughing. Frost passed a room where there was a low muttering. He passed a room where a man wept. He went into the room at the end of the corridor.

  The two addicts lay curled up head to head on the mattress. They each were covered by a poncho, but below these coverings a ragged fringe of polyethylene was visible. Although it was a cold day there was a film of sweat on the faces of both the woman and the man.

  Granville was crouching in the middle of the room. He stood when Frost entered. He said “The worst part is over.”

  Frost said “You’re a hard man to find.”

  “Sorry, there, Frost. I been here. And I been on the bridge. And I been takin’ rabbits to the dogs.” He smiled his ingratiating smile of five rotted teeth. When Frost continued to look at him sternly he said “I mean, that’s true too. I’m hard to find. You can say that again.” He shrugged, gave a fragment of a laugh, waited.

  “Someone stole our skag.”

  The addicts lifted their heads and looked at Frost. Granville said to them “The worst part is over.” He said to Frost. “Who done that, Frost?”

  “You’re still using it, aren’t you?”

  “Skag? Oh, no, Frost. I’m a citizen. Like you said.” Granville stepped past Frost and left the room, saying “Tyrell wants me on the bridge. I mean, if that’s okay. Is that okay, Frost?” He went quickly down the corridor.

  Frost followed. He said “It was gone from the clinic. We had people who needed it. We have people who need it now.”

  Granville started down the stairs. Frost followed.

  “You think I don’t know you took it?”

  “No, Frost... I mean... What?”

  Their voices echoed in the dark stairwell.

  “There’s no lock on the clinic.”

  “You should get a lock, Frost. Ask Langley. He’s got some. No... I mean....”

  “The dogs know you. They wouldn’t bark.”

  “They know me. I’m Granville the food guy. They bark a lot, though. You can say that again. I mean, sometimes. But no, that’s right too... What you said.”

  At the bottom Frost watched him hurriedly leave the domicile. Then Frost went into his own apartment. Will lay curled up under the window on his narrow plastic-covered mattress. He was wearing blue jeans and a grey sweatshirt with a picture of Mickey Mouse. His thumb was in his mouth. The enormous red candle rested nearby on the floor. It was burning. Principles of War lay closed beside it. The hammock had been taken down. In its place the wheeled office chair sat in front of the fireplace.

  Will took the thumb out and sat up and said “Do you want me to help out on one of the bridges?”

  “Not right now, Will. I’m keeping you in reserve. Have you been out today?”

  “Yes. I was studyin’ the terrain.”

  “Studying the terrain.”

  Will nodded.

  “From now on I don’t want you to go out without telling me or Noor or Daniel or Jessica. Did you see Grace?”

  “She’s at Fundy’s, helpin’ the... helpin’ the people who...”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you eaten today?”

  Will did not answer.

  “You better eat.”

  “Grampa?”

  “Yes?”

  “You don’t sigh anymore.”

  “Don’t I? I guess I’m through with sighing.”

  “Grampa?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s lonely without the dogs here. Could we keep one here? Could we keep King?”

  “I’ve been thinking about keeping one here anyway, to guard the domicile. I’ll bring King down.”

  Frost found his sword and his spear and left the apartment. But a man was waiting outside his door. The man was tall and broad shouldered and stood with a slouch. He was scraggle-bearded, bareheaded, bald and dull-eyed. He thrust his face forward like a turtle’s. He had a nylon backpack and a rubberized rain slicker and a rabbit skin kilt but was barefoot. A shit-brindle wire-haired pug-nosed mutt the size of a rabbit jumped up against Frost’s leg, yapping until Frost scooped it up. It then tried desperately to lick Frost’s face, but Frost tilted his face away.

  While avoiding the mutt’s tongue Frost said “Hemlock.”

  “Hullo Frost.”

  Frost shook the man’s hand and led him into the apartment. He said “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m starved to death. So’s Margaret.” He had a five-foot length of rusty rebar, which he leaned against the wall.

  Frost said “Hemlock the Messenger is here.”

  Margaret squirmed out of Frost’s arms and raced to Will and gave him a dozen licks before he could cover his face.

  Hemlock set the backpack down and said “Help me out of this, Will.”

  Will helped slide the rain slicker over Hemlock’s head. Underneath he had a faded and patched blue plaid logger’s shirt. His odour now spread through the apartment. It was the odour of a large mammal, bear odour.

  Frost indicated the office chair. “Sit here, Hemlock.”

  He sat, said “This here’s one of them there orifice chairs. ” He swiveled and wheeled it a little. “The Church Gang give it to you?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I seen these before. They haul them out of them there orifices they’re always gettin’ into.”

  Frost got three bowls and three spoons and a ladle. He opened the doors of the fireplace and ladled soup from the big pot. He gave the first bowl to Hemlock. He gave the next one to Will, and Will sat again on his mattress. Frost set the last bowl at Hemlock’s feet.

  Frost waited while they ate. Hemlock said “Can yous spare a little more?” Frost refilled his bowl.

  Margaret sniffed at her bowl every few seconds. Her master was halfway through his second bowl before she ventured a grab at the hot soup. She swallowed the single piece of beef first. Then she snatched out the chunks of potato. She waited for a minute with her face in the bowl. Then, first tentatively and then furiously, she licked up the broth. She left the carrots and the onions.

  Frost sat against the window sill and waited.

  When Hemlock had finished his soup he set the bowl on the floor. Margaret inspected it thoroughly, gave it three or four licks and then curled up at her master’s bare feet.

  Frost said “I suppose Langley sent you with a message.”

  “Nope. I ain’t carryin’ no more messages for Langley. I ain’t goin’ near him. I�
��m ascared of that son of a bitch.” He had a loud baritone voice. His words were slow and dolorous.

  “Well, you’re right to be. Did you know he killed Fundy and eleven of his people?”

  “Yep. And all but one of his dogs. And I know he killed all Wing’s milk cows for meat. And I know he’s got Wing’s women. And I know you give him a bad whippin’.” Pools of saliva had collected at the corners of his lips.

  Frost said “You’d better stay out of Town, Hemlock. Don’t go over the bridges. Noor ran into Langley the other night just the other side of my bridge. She’s lucky he let her go.”

  “I know. And you’re lucky he didn’t make sisterbobs out of that there workhorse.”

  “Sisterbobs.”

  “You ain’t never heard of sisterbobs? That’s what they used to call meat on a stick. Anyways, maybe the Park Crew will take me into town on their boat. But I doubt if they’ll want to come out this way anymore. They’ll be ascared too. They’ll want to stay away from Langley. And Fundy won’t be tradin’ with them anymore. And you never did.”

  “We ought to leave the trees standing. The ones that are left.”

  “Anyways, Frost, I got two messages for yous. Here’s the first one. We are five good lookin’ women in a brick house and a third of an acre of good ground close to Salt Creek. We are healthy and can still have kids. We are nice women and wouldn’t never scream at our men. We are lookin’ for five good men that won’t whip us. All’s they got to do is get here. We was going to come to Frost’s Farm, but now we’re ascared to.”

  The pools at the corners of Hemlock’s lips had overflowed into his beard.

  Frost said “I’ll tell my men. But no one’s going to be leaving the farm for a while. Any other messages?” Frost’s tone was courteous but businesslike.

  “No, just the one.”

  “Will you deliver a message for me?”

  “Tell me.” Hemlock closed his eyes and listened.

  “It’s for BC out at the Parts Gang. Tell him I need a truck flywheel for the water wheel. Tell him I also want an alternator.”

  Hemlock opened his eyes. “What’s a alternator?”

  “It’s for making electricity.”

  “You plannin’ to make electricity? There ain’t been electricity since I was a boy.”

  “And tell him I’ll pick up Wing’s wagon when the weather is better.”

  “You want a truck flywheel. You want a alternator. You’ll pick up Wing’s wagon when the weather gets better.”

  “That’s right. Now, why don’t you stay over? We’ve got some empty rooms. It’s pretty mean looking out there. It could hail.”

  “I got to be goin’, Frost. I got to walk.” Margaret scrambled to her feet, suddenly alert.

  Frost said “I know. I thought I’d ask anyway. We’ll get some vegetables and eggs and salt meat together for you. Will, go and see if you can find Jessica.”

  Will went out.

  Hemlock stood. He said “There’s one more thing. Two more. It’s good Will went out. It’s easier to tell this without him here. They’re not messages, they’re news. Well, one of them’s news. Bailey got wiped out.”

  “What! Bailey at the sheep farm?”

  “It wasn’t Langley. It was addicts. I seen two of them dead. And I seen Bailey dead and all of his people. Dogs too. It must’ve been a slew of addicts. They took some of his sheep and killed the rest. Ate them, looks like. Raw I guess. They could’ve used Bailey’s fire maker, but I guess they was too hungry. There was a lot of guts and bones around.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Frost slumped into the office chair.

  “Frost?”

  It took Frost a long time to look up. When he did it was with an expression of mortal weariness.

  “Frost, I been thinkin’. I known you a long time.” Hemlock seemed to run out of steam. He looked away from Frost’s troubled face, exhaled heavily, wiped the spit from his chin.

  Frost waited.

  “I mean, I ain’t gettin’ no younger. You know what I’m talkin’ about, Frost?” He looked hopefully at his host, but Frost had no encouragement to offer. “I mean... What I’m tryin’... What I want to ask you is... is this. Noor’s all growed up now. She ought to be lookin’ for a man.” He nodded happily, relieved. Took a deep breath. Waited for a reply. Margaret wagged her tail.

  Frost stared blankly at Hemlock. He did not take his eyes from him. The bear odour in the room grew denser. Frost said quietly “Jesus Christ, Hemlock, you don’t even have a house.”

  “I got lots of places where I sleep. Me and Margaret.”

  “You don’t have any possessions.”

  Hemlock gestured toward his backpack on the floor. “I got a fire maker. I got a pot. Want to see them?”

  Frost said “Noor’s already got a man. Robson at the Church Gang.”

  Hemlock looked wounded, pierced. His baritone turned high pitched, which caused Margaret to look at him curiously. “I didn’t know that.”

  “I thought you knew everything.”

  “I do” he squeaked. “But I didn’t know that.”

  Frost rose with effort from the chair. “Go ahead and ask her. She’s a free person. Jessica will bring your stuff if Will’s managed to find her. Just wait here.”

  Without a glance Frost went past Hemlock and out of the apartment and the domicile. The day was dark and it had started to hail. He walked across to the clinic. There was no dog tied there. Inside, almost everything was gone, even the sheet from the couch. Grace had taken it all to Fundy’s. Just the bags of dried leaves remained on a shelf, and on another shelf the brittle pages and the meagre scraps of medical books. He sat on the couch for a while, thinking. Soon the hail was a roar on the roof. He went to the open door and looked out.

  Noor, carrying her spear, was going into the domicile as Hemlock was coming out. He was wearing now a pink toque with a pom-pom. Noor paused briefly to shake his hand as the dog jumped up against her. Then she passed on into the building. Hemlock picked up Margaret and tucked her under his slicker and walked off toward the old road and faded in the torrent.

  38

  Sunset the next day was a cold, brief and bitter orange. Frost was running. Further up the bridge Hastings had pulled well ahead. Frost stopped and walked, breathing hard. Then he ran again. Hastings had now reached the top and joined the others. Noor was among them. In a cluster they watched Frost approach. He was walking again because he saw finally there was no need to hurry.

  The dogs lay scattered across the roadway, some on one side of the lane divider, some on the other, among vomited pieces of half-digested meat and pools of diarrhea. Frost stood watching for a minute, but there was no movement from any of the animals. He bent and laid his hand on each one, but there was no breath and no heartbeat. Each time as he stood he said the name of the dog. He said it quietly but clearly, as if this were a newly created but necessary rite.

  And also as if it were necessary those watching him repeated the names, muttered them raggedly, in no kind of union. Blackie. Beast. Puppy.

  Frost knelt beside Puppy and looked closely into her eyes, but they were still. He sniffed near her mouth, the lolling tongue. Stronger than the vomit, there was a smell of garlic. He stood. He said “Puppy.”

  Some of his people repeated the name.

  Then he said “Arsenic.” He turned and looked down the bridge. Granville was already halfway down, his hair like a muted ember, receding in the twilight. The men and Noor came and stood near Frost.

  Tyrell said “What’s that?”

  Daniel Charlie said “It’s a kind of poison.”

  Frost said “They used to use it to kill slugs. It gives off a smell like garlic.” His voice was broken and weary. He walked away and stood on the east sidewalk, facing upriver, with his back to his people.

  Tyrell said “Do we bury them?”

  Frost didn’t even look at him.

  Noor was pale and shaken. In a voice hoarse from crying she said “I’ll go and get a
wheelbarrow.” She started down the bridge.

  Frost turned finally, wiped tears from his cheeks and walked across to the other sidewalk. On the other bridge, Fundy’s Bridge, even against the western glow, he could make out Wing’s red jacket. He said “Tyrell, call over and ask.”

  Tyrell stepped up beside Frost and cupped his hands around his mouth. His shout cracked the windless silence. “How’s your dogs?”

  A few seconds later a man’s small voice came back.

  “All dead.”

  The men shuffled a few paces away from the dogs and from each other. They stood shaking their heads or staring at nothing. But Daniel Charlie and Tyrell remained near Frost.

  Daniel Charlie said “It was an awful thing to see, Frost. Awful. I’m glad you weren’t here.”

  Frost turned from the railing. “I should’ve seen it coming. It’s obvious. So obvious. Did Granville bring the meat?”

  Tyrell and Daniel Charlie both nodded.

  “Who took the meat to the other bridge?”

  Daniel Charlie said “I think Jessica did.”