Since Tomorrow

by Morgan Nyberg

  The girl took hold of Granville’s poncho and used it to pull herself up onto her knees. The hands and the nails were clean. There was a strong and beautiful smell of flowers. The pubescent breast was there like a moon in the half-dark. The nipple nudged the wool of Granville’s poncho as she tilted her head back and opened her mouth. She did not take her eyes from his. He could see the pink of her tongue. He held his finger down to her. She closed rough lips around it. He felt her tongue run over and over the tip of the finger.

  She slid her lips down and off the finger. Then she turned and crawled back to the women. They made a space, and she curled on her side among them. While never looking away from the two men, the five women each laid a hand on the child.

  Langley closed his hand around the bag and took it away from Granville with a small tug. He said “Ain’t she somethin’?”

  Granville cleared his throat. “You can say that again. I mean….”

  “So, you like my house?”

  Granville nodded enthusiastically.

  “Think you could live here?”

  “Oh yeah. I could live here.”

  “What Frost wouldn’t give to know the secrets of this building, eh, soldier?”

  “That’s true too. I mean, what he wouldn’t give.”

  “I’m sure he’d like to know where I keep the women. In case he wanted to try and get them out of here. I bet he’d like to know where my soldiers sleep too. In case he decided to attack. How much food we got. So’s he could decide to try and starve us out or not. Whether this place could burn. You think this place could burn, Planville?”

  “It’s not made of wood. But Frost already knows that. So…. I mean….”

  “There you go! More important information about Frost - Frost ain’t going to try and burn me out!” With his free hand he slapped Granville on the shoulder. Then he slid the skag back into his pocket. “But it’s plain as day that bitch ain’t good for nothin’.” He reached under his sweater and drew out a long hunting knife. “Only thing she’s good for is sending a message to Frost.”

  The women all started whimpering, except for Snow, who lay quiet among them.

  Langley pivoted the knife so that the handle was toward Granville. The handle was made of antler. One side of it was dark and rough, the other paler and smooth. Granville said “Go on, take it. I trust you. I trust all my soldiers.”

  Granville put his hand behind his back.

  Langley jabbed the handle toward Granville. “It’s sharp as a god damn razor. You know what a razor is? Just grab hold of her hair, and pull her head back, and one slice and it’s over. Hey, you all right, soldier? You look kind of white.”

  Granville smiled weakly, gave a little groan. He did not move his hand toward the knife.

  “It’s the air in here, ain’t it? It’s the smell comin’ off of that disgustin bunch. Or is it that smell comin’ off of Snow? It’s got your head spinnin’, ain’t it? It’s called perfume. Dior. Never mind, I don’t want no blood in here anyways. Which would smell even worse. You can take her outside and do it.” Langley stood there for a minute, holding the knife for Granville to take, looking straight into his eyes. Then he said “After breakfast.”

  He winked and put the knife away under his sweater. “Come on.” He started toward the doorway and signalled with his head for Granville to follow. “I got a few things I want to show you before we eat. Things a new soldier ought to know. I want to show you where my soldiers sleep. I want to show you how much food we got. Some parts of this building would burn, did you know that? If someone shot a burnin’ arrow through a window? I’ll show you what I’m talkin’ about. There’s other ways to get out of this place too. Emergency exits they used to call them. In case any of us ever wants to make a quick escape. I’ll show you the roof too. It’s astoundin’ what a person can see from up there.”

  “It was a bad idea. Bad idea” said Frost. He shook his head. He looked very tired.

  “Maybe” said Daniel Charlie. “But it was his idea. Nobody forced him.”

  Frost, Daniel Charlie and Wing stood in light rain at the cusp of Fundy’s Bridge. They had spears and bows. Wing’s men, Nordel, Bridgeport, Pender, Mitchell and Burnaby stood in a group nearby. Like Frost and Daniel Charlie and Wing they were looking northward, toward the big building near the foot of the bridge.

  Wing said “He done somethin’ good. He can be proud of himself now. Not like before. Bad idea, good idea – it don’t matter.” From under his rabbit skin hat his fine white hair hung down to the soaked fabric of his red warm-up jacket.

  Frost and Daniel Charlie turned and looked at him for a minute. Finding no rejoinder to his philosophy, they gave their attention again to the big building. Frost took off his glasses and slipped them into a pocket under his poncho. He raised the binoculars. “I can see into his windows from here. If it wasn’t dark inside I could see what they were doing.”

  Daniel Charlie said “If we had any ham we could have ham and eggs if we had any eggs.”

  Frost lowered the binoculars, said in a low and weary voice “Tell me that again in a few days. After we’re done with this business. If I’m still alive I’ll laugh.”

  Wing scratched his chin. The wisp of white beard trembled.

  Frost said “What?”

  Wing said “I’m just thinkin’ – have I ever seen you laugh?”

  Frost raised the binoculars again. He saw Langley and Granville on the roof. They were standing at the edge. He said “Can you see them?”

  Daniel Charlie said “From here I can even tell the colour of Granville’s hair. What do you think’s goin’ on?”

  Frost said nothing.

  Langley stepped behind Granville. With his thumbs and index fingers he made circles around his eyes. He looked toward Frost and the others and held that pose for a few seconds. Then he spread his arms, raised a foot and rammed it into Granville’s back. Frost closed his eyes, but he heard Granville’s scream as he fell, sharp as a the cry of a gull.

  49

  It finished on a dark and windy afternoon of late winter.

  Frost stood with Tyrell halfway down his bridge toward Town, looking through the binoculars and making low sounds of disgust and anger. He said “You still want to be a general?”

  “The only thing I want to do is what you tell me to do.”

  “You were never one for diplomacy. So I know you’re not lying.”

  “What the hell is diplomacy?”

  “Answered like a true general.” Frost looked down at Tyrell, who was more than a head shorter. Frost’s curly beard was matted and disordered. Wrinkles had grown deep on his forehead and around his blue eyes, into which pain was set finally like a lens of ice. And yet he smiled.

  In what appeared to be a ceremonial gesture they slowly swept their bows aside. They embraced. Frost kissed Tyrell’s hair and let his cheek rest for a few seconds against the cropped grey curls. Then he stood back and slipped the binoculars from around his neck. “Here, General. Your work is cut out for you.”

  But Tyrell shook his head. “Even with the one eye I got I can see what the cockroach is up to.”

  At the bottom about fifty soldiers were arranged in rows across the full width of the bridge. In front of the soldiers stood a mass of emaciated men and women, naked or wrapped or partially wrapped in torn sheets of plastic. As if it were an aspect of the wind that was increasing as the day darkened, a general moaning rose from this crowd, punctuated by occasional braying cries. The addicts scuffled in place and moved their arms in cramped gesticulations of confusion and terror and turned again and again to look behind them, where the soldiers stood with crossbows raised.

  Tyrell walked to the western railing and cupped his hands to his mouth. “Stay there” he called. “They`ll go your way if you leave it clear.” His voice was like a volley of cannon shots. The crowd of addicts was silent for a second, then started up again. There was no reply from Fundy’s Bridge except for Wing waving his red warm-up jacket. The
n there was a clang on the railing a yard away from where Tyrell stood, followed by the whine of a ricochet and then a noise like a twig snapping.

  Tyrell walked unhurriedly, very erect, back to Frost. Together they turned and jogged up the bridge.

  Three of the guards and Noor and Jessica and Daniel Charlie stood watching from the cusp of the bridge. Will was there too, with King. Frost and Tyrell crouched behind Richmond and Airport, who had spears and shields as well as bows and swords. Frost said “Better stay down. He’s got the gun.”

  Airport said “Is that what we heard? Can it shoot through rusty car-metal?”

  Frost did not answer.

  Noor stepped forward. She said “Those are addicts.”

  Frost nodded and said “Get down.” He reached up, but she shook his hand from her shoulder. She stood there staring coldly down the bridge. She was now the tallest shape in the crowd of defenders. The wind picked up. It bore sharp spits of rain.

  Frost crept back to Will. “Run back to the domicile. If anybody wants to fight, tell them to bring their bows.”

  Will said “Let’s go, King!”

  King had been lying with his head on his paws. He now leapt up, barking and mouthing at Will’s arm.

  But Tyrell said “King gots to stay here. He’s our best fighter.”

  Will said “But he could get hurt.”

  Both Frost and Tyrell nodded.

  Will thumped to his knees and hugged the dog, who twisted his head to lick Will’s cheek. Will said “Stay, King.” Then he turned and sprinted down the slope toward Frost’s farm. King stood there whining after him.

  Frost watched Will go. Then he went back to his position behind Airport.

  Langley’s soldiers were moving up the bridge. The addicts were making more noise now. They went forward only because the soldiers were shoving and kicking them or prodding them with swords and crossbows. The progress was ragged. Shouts of frustration from the soldiers blended with the wailing of the addicts, who dodged the blows of the soldiers when they could and tried to dance sideways or even backwards.

  Behind the troops Langley’s rickshaw was visible, approaching at the same laborious rate. From time to time, between the jostling bodies, there was a flicker of his pink quilt.

  Daniel Charlie climbed over the lane divider and crept beside Frost. He said “He’s a smart son of a bitch. He knows we won’t shoot on account of the addicts. What’s our plan?”

  Frost just shook his head. “Ask the general.”

  Daniel Charlie looked at Tyrell, who said “We wait till they get closer. Then we back up.”

  “You’re sayin’ we give up? We let them have the farm?”

  Tyrell looked at Daniel Charlie with disgust.

  “What, then?”

  Tyrell said “Once they’re on the farm we can spread out around them. They won’t be able to put the addicts in front.”

  “They’ll put the addicts in a circle around the soldiers.”

  “They’ll be thinned out. We’ll shoot between them.”

  The guards – Airport, Boundary and Richmond – now simultaneously and loudly offered affirming or dissenting opinions. Noor appeared to have heard none of the discussion. She remained tall and upright, with her face wet from the stinging rain. She stared down the slope toward the soldiers. With their agitated human shield, they were two-thirds of the way up the bridge.

  Noor stepped forward past Airport’s shield and turned her back on Langley and his men. She shouted “Stand up! Aim your bows and start screamin’!”

  Tyrell said “What the hell?”

  Noor said “Just do it! Do it now!”

  Frost rose first. He shook an arrow from his bag. He fitted it to his bowstring and drew the bow. Noor did the same. Airport, Richmond and Boundary let their shields clatter to the pavement as they stood. Daniel Charlie and Jessica also stood and drew their bows. Tyrell rose last, but it was his roar that caused the addicts to freeze and then to panic.

  The soldiers slapped with their swords at the naked or half-naked figures, who refused to go forward toward the raised bows and the war-shrieks. Afraid of advancing but unable to retreat, they darted over the lane divider in both directions. In the generally sideways course of the commotion they fell over one another. One of them dodged around one side of the pack of soldiers and escaped down the sidewalk toward Town. Another, a woman, tried to follow.

  Behind the soldiers, above them, Langley rose in his rickshaw. There was no room for him to stand. He slashed at the frame of the rickshaw’s roof with the rifle. It tore free and hung by a shred of fabric against his shoulder. He elbowed the dangling roof aside and aimed the rifle. As the woman bumped past a soldier on the sidewalk and bolted for freedom he shot her.

  She flung up an arm and stumbled into the railing. She dropped to her knees for a moment but then rose again and continued running, although not fast. A big man – it was Freeway - jogged up behind her. With the hand not holding his crossbow he jerked her backward by a strand of her stringy hair. Without breaking stride he released her hair and clamped her arm in the same hand. He half-spun and tossed the woman over the railing.

  Noor turned to her grandfather and the others. She had stopped screaming. She lowered her bow. The others, Tyrell first this time, also fell silent and lowered their bows. Noor motioned for them to move to the sides of the bridge. Airport and Richmond dragged their shields to the west sidewalk. Boundary dragged his to the east. The others, except for Noor, crouched behind the guards. King whined until Frost called him over and held him by his side.

  Noor remained in the middle of the bridge. She raised her bow above her head. Then she slowly laid it on the pavement. She stepped up onto the lane divider and balanced there with her arms spread wide.

  But her gesture of welcome was unnecessary. The addicts had already covered half the distance between Langley’s soldiers and Frost’s people. No crossbow was fired. There was a rifle shot, but no one was hit. Then Richmond’s shield gave a twitch. Daniel Charlie, who was crouched behind Richmond, cried “Ow! God damn it!” as they heard the crack of this new shot.

  Daniel Charlie tugged his poncho up over his right shoulder. Blood was trickling down his upper arm. He looked at the wound angrily. With a fingernail he hooked the slug out of the shallow depression it had made.

  Richmond was trying to pick a flake of rust out of his eye.

  Frost said “You OKAY, Daniel?”

  “Yeah. I’m wearing my eagle feather. Nothing can kill me.”

  “Richmond?”

  “I’m OKAY now.” He rose on his knees and heaved the shield over the railing.

  The skag addicts ran past with faces of animal terror. One or two managed a glance at their saviours. One held up her hand to touch Noor’s as she passed. There was a swooshing of plastic. There was a smell of sick and filthy bodies.

  Noor jumped down from the lane divider.

  Tyrell walked back out into the roadway. He fitted an arrow and let it fly. The wind caught the light cattail cane and carried it wide of the bridge.

  The others starting shooting arrows. There was the sound of a shot. No one was hit. A crossbow bolt skipped off the pavement and bounced past Noor and after the addicts. Several more sailed over the heads of Frost’s people.

  Frost turned and saw one of the addicts fall. Beyond, he also saw Newton, Hastings, Oak and Marpole. He saw Deas. Well behind them he saw Kingsway and Night and Brittany and Rain and half-a-dozen others from the domicile. They had bows and were running up the bridge. One-armed Salmon held a spear. He saw old Joshua. He saw old Christopher, with his waist-length fringe of white hair flying. He saw Brandon. Far behind them Amber was hobbling as fast as she could, leaning on a bow instead of her rebar. They all moved aside and proceeded along the sidewalks to let the addicts pass.

  Frost turned back toward the Town end of his bridge. The soldiers had stopped advancing. Frost raised his bow. He aimed low, so the arrow would bounce and continue if it landed short. He tried
to allow for the wind.

  King stood beside Frost, barking like mad.

  50

  To the north Will saw Wing and the others on Fundy’s Bridge. But he turned in the opposite direction and sailed down a concrete embankment with his arms thrown wide for balance and carried on running across boggy ground toward Fundy’s house.

  So that his bow would not get in the way he backed through the layers of heavy plastic covering the doorway. There was a woman’s shout of fear as he burst backward into the room. He stopped and lifted his bow to begin to say what he had to say, but he found he could not speak. He had no breath. He leaned on his knees and rasped air into his lungs.

  A woman in a long dress came and helped him toward a couch, from which rose two women holding babies. But once there he shook his head and would not sit. He turned to the people in the dim room. He held his bow up again, but still could not speak.

  The room was full of women. Most of them wore dark floor-length dresses and had their hair hidden under headscarves. There was also a woman in camouflage trousers and a man’s dirty dress shirt. She was one of the addicts who had stayed at the domicile. She smiled tentatively. Little Skytrain sat in the middle of the floor among the bare feet of the women. Like the others, he watched Will.