Since Tomorrow

by Morgan Nyberg

  Frost stood close to BC and looked into the eyes the colour of silty river water. He said “Your pupils are the size of pinholes.”

  BC lowered his gaze, which Frost followed to the heads of the arrows he still held in one hand. BC said “I see yous had some other ideas for that sheet metal I brung.”

  Wind turned from the river and stepped between the shafts, as if she were about to haul the cart back the way they had come. Today her face was not bruised. Her gaunt cheeks were coloured either from anger or from pulling the cart fifteen miles through the rain. There was life in her eyes as well, some spark of determination.

  She said to BC “Just shut up.”

  BC did not react. He stared at Frost, weaving slightly, like a fir tree in a storm. His hand rested on the side of the cart near the black bag. His eyes were as empty of emotion as the muddy water they resembled.

  Frost walked away a few paces. He turned, spat, waited.

  Will now stood beside Daniel Charlie, who had his hand on his shoulder. King stood by Will, watching the proceedings.

  Wind said “We brung the flywheel and the alternator.”

  Frost showed her the alternator in his hand, said “I see that.”

  “So, what’re you plannin’ to pay us with?”

  “What do you need?”

  “We need meat.”

  “That’s what I thought. Well, I won’t give you meat.”

  She glared at Frost.

  After a few seconds BC gave an angry twitch and said “You won’t what!”

  Wind said to him “I said shut up" and to Frost “You owe us meat, Frost. Fair’s fair.”

  Frost said “I owe you a cow, which is to pay for Wing’s wagon. When my next calf is grown up you’ll get it. That was the deal. I’ll raise it and slaughter it and salt the meat. I gave you a down payment last time you came. You only get one down payment. For the flywheel and the alternator I’ll give you spuds and carrots and squashes and cabbage. I’ll give you some eggs.”

  Finally BC took his hand from the cart. He threw up his arms. “We need meat, Frost!”

  Wind said to BC “God damn you! I said shut up!” She made fists and stepped over the shaft.

  BC skipped backward awkwardly and stood in a crouch, with his own fists up. “I’ll bust your nose!” he slurred.

  Wind spun toward Frost. “We didn’t come all this way for vegetables.”

  “Fine. I’ll give you some milk too.”

  “Milk don’t keep.”

  “Neither does meat.”

  She stood there, with no answer. She said “We come a long ways.”

  Frost said “I’ll be generous with the spuds.”

  “We come all the way from the parts yard. ’Cause we thought we was gettin’ meat.”

  “Well, I guess you better start back.”

  “You son of a bitch! You ain’t gettin’ no wagon! You ain’t gettin’ nothin’!” She jabbed her finger at Frost, took a step toward him. King growled.

  Frost said “Fine. You keep it. I didn’t want it in the first place. Daniel, give me a hand to throw the flywheel back on.” But Daniel Charlie did not move. He and Frost waited.

  Wind sighed, shook her head, explained to BC “We got to take vegetables.” She sounded defeated. “There’s eggs. And milk. You like milk.”

  Everyone watched BC. After a few seconds he said “What!” It was like someone pretending to be enraged. He threw up is arms again, and his eyes widened around the nail-hole pupils. Perhaps he thought he was shouting, but his voice was hardly louder than a whisper. “I can’t trade vegetables. You got to give us meat. Fair’s fair.”

  Wind nodded to Frost, said “Okay. Give us what you said. It’s a long trail home.”

  Daniel Charlie said “I’ll take care of it" and started toward the domicile.

  BC turned carefully and went and stood over the flywheel. He bent and tried to lift one edge but could not budge it. He straightened, squinted back along the River Trail and started walking back the way he had come, with his arms flopping loosely.

  Wind called “Where the hell you goin’!”

  Frost handed the alternator to Will and the arrows to Wing. He went to the cart. Although the woman lunged she was too late. Frost stepped away with the black plastic bag. He called “BC! Hey! You forgot something.”

  BC stopped. He turned and came back. He had a foolish grin. He said “Forgot my food.”

  Frost said “This is food in here?”

  Wind said “Food. For the long trail home.” She held out her hand. A hopeless smile stirred for a second on her lips.

  BC also held out his hand. Frost stepped backward away from him. He reached into the bag and took out a half-litre plastic bottle that was a quarter full of murky liquid. He let the bag fall.

  BC said “That there’s mine.”

  Frost kept walking backwards away from him. King growled again, stepped forward a few feet.

  Wind clasped her hands and bent her knees, beaten. She pleaded “No, Frost. He needs it. Don’t take it. Please.”

  With the hand that was holding the bottle, Frost punched BC hard in the face. BC took half a step back and fell. As if he had practised the procedure many times, he drew his knees up and tucked his chin in and covered his head with his arms. Frost kicked him in the back. BC cried out but stayed curled up. Frost was wearing sandals. He hurt his toe and also cried out, but kicked BC again. King leapt in silently, bit BC on the buttock and leapt away. BC shrieked. Frost bellowed “You made the crossbows that killed Fundy’s men! You traded for skag!” He kicked him again. King darted in and bit him again in the same place, and BC shrieked again. Frost hollered “Don’t come around here asking for meat!”

  Wing turned away and stood there with his handful of arrows, staring off toward the river. Will dropped the alternator and watched, with his hands clasped to his face.

  Wind rushed forward and pushed Frost away from her man, but Frost got in another kick before he stumbled back. King faced Wind, snarling wildly and flashing his teeth.

  Wind turned cautiously from the dog. She helped BC up onto hands and knees. BC tried to get up but finally found it easier to proceed on all fours. Wind walked beside him to the cart. A ribbon of blood and mucous dangled from BC’s nose. She hoisted the shafts so that the back end of the cart was close to the ground. BC sprawled onto the cart. His bare feet hung off the back. He held his backside, where the kilt was torn and bloody. Wind pulled the shafts down and turned the cart. Without a look at anyone she leaned into her load and gave a grunt and started back along the River Trail.

  Will took two steps backward, away from Frost, as if this tall man limping toward him were a stranger wearing his grandfather’s face. But then he stopped and lowered his hands, and Frost saw that Will’s face was also streaked with blood, from a cut finger the arrowhead had given him in the workshop. Frost ran his hand – the one that was not holding the skag - over Will’s hair, and with the rainwater that collected on his fingers he wiped the blood away.

  41

  The rains had washed the bridge, but King could still smell the dead dogs. He would stand almost motionless with his nose an inch from the pavement, then move quickly to another point and stand there sniffing, and then, after a minute, to another. Not even Will could dissuade him from this dismal and endless fact-gathering.

  It was an afternoon of high slow-moving cloud, not very cold. A small fire of damp brush and peat smouldered beside the lane divider. It was ignored by everyone except Will, who squatted by it, feeding in twigs and blowing on embers.

  Among those on Frost’s Bridge there was no conversation, just an aimless pacing, an empty staring at the weed-grown roadway, glances toward Town, glances across to Fundy’s Bridge. Most of them had bows, and they had bags of arrows at their sides, with the points uppermost so as not to pierce the bags. They had swords as well, but the spears leaned against the western railing. Even Will had a bow and a bag of arrows, both of which lay beside him as he perfected his
adjustments to the fire.

  Tyrell was there, and Airport and Marpole and Hastings and Deas. Frost paced as aimlessly and as worriedly as the others. Daniel Charlie and Jessica and Noor leaned on the eastern railing, looking down at the water. Only Noor and Jessica did not have bows or arrows. Noor was wearing the embroidered waistcoat, which added no more joy to the afternoon than Will’s fire. Some of the shields that had not been turned into arrowheads were ranged along the western curb.

  King was so absorbed in his endless sniffing that he was not the first to notice a figure approaching from the Town end of the bridge. In fact everyone, even Will, was now watching the man trudge up the slope toward them. No one fitted arrow to bowstring or snatched up a shield. Only when Tyrell said “It’s Hemlock" did King look up and bark. Then he wagged his tail and took off down the bridge to meet Margaret, who was racing up toward him.

  While the dogs frolicked Hemlock the Messenger plodded onwards with his long lunging barefoot stride. Under the pink toque he thrust his face out like a tortoise. He carried his length of rebar in his right hand.

  He squatted by Will’s smoky little fire and laid down the rebar and warmed his hands. Jessica handed him a bowl of cold boiled potatoes. Everyone hovered over him while he ate. The dogs were tearing in circles around the group, but when Margaret saw the food she jumped up against Jessica’s legs until she was given a potato. When Hemlock was done he handed the bowl back to Jessica, wiped his hands on his fur kilt and stood. When he found he was facing Noor he turned away.

  Frost said “You made it into Town.”

  “And I made it back safe.”

  Hemlock walked over to the western sidewalk and stepped up onto it and stood there tall and slouched. He faced his listeners. He spoke loudly. His voice was deep and mournful.

  “I took a chance on goin’ to the market. The Park Crew was there tradin’ cordwood to Langley’s men. When they was done they took me back to the Park on their boat. So that’s how I got into Town. Well, close to it. The Park ain’t exactly Town.”

  Frost said “Any news from the Park Crew?”

  “Ladner’s woman got a fever and died. But the rest is all right. They’re livin’ on rabbits and traded food. There’s a cougar in the Park, but it’s stayed away so far.”

  Daniel Charlie said “Do they send a message?”

  Hemlock found he was facing Noor again. Again he turned away. “No, the Park Crew don’t send no message.” He was obviously not finished, but he did not continue.

  After a minute Frost said “Does someone else send a message?”

  Hemlock nodded. “Someone else.”

  “You going to tell us?”

  “I am. I’m goin’ to tell you.” He stood there nodding for a while. They all waited. Even King and Margaret sat near the curb and stared up at the Messenger.

  Hemlock said “I got a message for all of yous from two women. These two women is stayin’ with the Park Crew. They give me the message when I was there. Their names is Ice and Spring.”

  Hastings said “Do we know them?”

  Jessica said “They’re with the Church Gang.”

  Everyone except Hemlock turned and looked at Noor, who held her breath, stared at Hemlock and returned nobody’s glance.

  He continued “This here is the message of Ice and Spring. Langley and his soldiers come one night to the Church when we was sleepin’. Hollyburn was on guard, and he shouted plenty, but there was too many of them, and they just walked right into the Church. They lit a torch. Powell got out the 22, but they kilt him with their crossbows. Langley said, ‘All this stuff is too good for the likes of yous.’ They took their swords and they kilt Hollyburn and they kilt 101. We run out the back. We thought Ash was with us, but he wasn’t.”

  Jessica was standing behind Noor. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her.

  “They kilt Robson too.”

  Noor screamed.

  But Hemlock seemed determined to deliver the message he had been entrusted with. He attempted to raised his voice above the scream. “...too terrible..." could be heard, and “...don’t know if we can go on....”

  Noor’s scream faded to a loud, ragged sobbing.

  Hemlock swung his backpack halfway off and dug something out of it. It was a short piece of plastic pipe with a few evenly spaced holes bored in it. “They sent this here for Noor.” He had to turn to her now to present the memento.

  But Noor had torn free of Jessica, grabbed a spear and was already thirty yards down the bridge. She was sprinting full out toward Town.

  Frost and Tyrell and Daniel Charlie shouted her name, but she did not slow down. Frost said “Jesus Christ. They’ll kill her for sure this time. Marpole, see if you can catch her.”

  Marpole dropped his arrows and threw off his bow. But as he dashed down the bridge with the floating strides of a young man the distance between him and Noor only increased.

  Again there was shouting from the group at the top of the bridge. It was even more frantic this time, and included Jessica’s shriek, which was as much a lament as a warning.

  Will! No! Will!

  Will passed Marpole halfway down the slope.

  Marpole slowed, stopped and turned to wait for the others, all of whom except for Hemlock the Messenger were jogging toward him with their bows on their backs and their spears in their hands.

  At the bottom of the bridge Noor veered westward off the trail into an expanse of scrub, weeds, blackberry vine and mud, out of which rose a few three-storey apartment blocks. She had to slow a little as she dodged among the obstacles that lay between her and the taller building that stood to the northwest beyond the others. She did not use any of the abundant cover to hide her approach. She ran more or less directly toward Langley’s building, with the spear held low in her right hand.

  Suddenly she stopped, whirled. Somehow the point of the spear missed her brother as he leapt. She fell backward under him into a leafless salmonberry bush. There was a loud crackling as several of the canes splintered. She pushed him away and took off again toward the building. She still had the spear. But Will dove and caught a foot, and she sprawled on the ground. He flung himself on her back, but she easily threw him off. She hissed “Go home!”

  He had hold of the embroidered vest with both hands and would not let go. He had enough breath to whisper “You got to come back. You’re not thinkin’ straight.”

  She tried again to break away. They struggled for a few seconds but then stopped. A person was standing above them. As she tried to rise to her knees in order to get a good thrust at the man he stepped forward, kicked the spear out of her hand and then stepped back again. He had a sword. Noor scrambled up, leapt back a pace and reached for her own sword. The man dropped the tip of his weapon, took two quick steps and with his free hand punched Noor in the face. She cried out, and her feet flew from under her, and she crashed onto her back and lay there stunned.

  Will pushed himself backward a little.

  The man said to him “Nope. You stay right there.” He tapped him on the head with the tip of his sword.

  The man waited. In a minute Noor rose up onto her elbows. Her cheek was split near her eye. A thin sheet of blood flowed down onto her long neck. She looked at the man.

  He said “Langley cut me ’cause of you. Remember? I got a scar now on my front. It’s shaped like a X.”

  It was the stocky, moon-faced man who had been among the soldiers when Langley detained her on her way back from visiting the Church Gang. Noor could see two long diagonal slices in the wool of the man’s shift, poorly repaired.

  “It’s still sore. ’Cause of you. Now let’s see yours. Let’s see your front. Take off that pretty vest and that shirt. You might as well take of them pants too.”

  Noor rose to a sitting position. There was no point trying to draw her sword. She looked around. Her spear was a dozen feet away in a clump of wilted bracken. Will was still trying to edge backward on his stomach. His face was white.

&n
bsp; The man said “It’s going to happen don’t matter if you’re alive or if you’re dead. Don’t make no difference to me. Long as you’re halfways warm.” He said to Will “Lay down on your face and put your hands behind your back and keep them there.” Will did so. His hands trembled. The man said “If you keep still and shut up, me and your sister are going to show you what’s called the facts of life.”

  Suddenly Noor was on her feet. But she was groggy. She stumbled as she grabbed at her sword.

  The man roared and lunged. But before his blade touched Noor the man’s eyes widened, and the thrust went wide. Sailing above the blade, King hit him like a battering ram. The man hollered and toppled backward, and the sword fell free. As the dog and the man struck the ground King was already tearing at his throat.

  Noor managed to run, but had to steady herself on her brother’s shoulder. They headed back toward Frost’s Bridge. Behind them King’s snarling grew faint. When Will looked back he saw two figures closer to Langley’s building moving through the brush toward King and the soldier. He stopped, called “King! King, come on!” but Noor forced him to continue running. They made it to Town Trail and saw Frost and the others hurrying toward them.

  As they walked quickly and silently up the bridge Will turned often to check for King. But the old apartment buildings always blocked his view of the area.