Finally, Clarence walked into the center of the circle, clearing his throat in sharp breaths. I liked Clarence and was happy to see him. But then he motioned to someone in the crowd with his drumstick. I looked over to see Derrick, also holding a drum.
“Dammit.”
Even worse, standing beside him was Rose. He smiled at her, and she returned the smile before he joined his uncle. The cave darkened as my eyes narrowed. What in the hell was she doing with that jerk? And why was she smiling so big? I puffed out my chest a bit, remembering that I still had the longest braids, even in this larger group. That made me a better Indian, after all.
But then the drumming started. Double beat, high and sweet, round dance style. Clarence busted a lead and then Derrick joined in, and damn it all to hell, his voice was amazing. I crossed my arms, refusing to be impacted. My dad tapped his hand on his mangled knee and Bullet rocked forward and back to the beat. A few of the younger adults stood right away and joined hands, circling the singers in a chain. Some others joined in, and soon the circle was filled with dancers.
I kept my arms folded when the clapping and hollering started after that first song. I felt a jealous twitch in my midsection when Wab and Chi-Boy and Slopper and everyone else for that matter joined in. The twitch turned into a wrench when Clarence raised his voice to declare the next one was two-step and Derrick handed his drum to Tree. That elicited oohs and ahhs from the twins, who put their heads together to examine and admire the instrument. It twisted and yanked on my stomach when I saw Derrick weave through the audience to extend a hand towards Rose, who shook her head at first and giggled but who eventually put her hand in his and allowed herself to be led out into the center. And finally, the jealousy turned to full-blown murder stomping about my guts when I saw them dance, hand in hand, around the circle. By the time they were facing me, Derrick looked me straight in the eyes and smiled the biggest smirk of self-satisfaction you ever could imagine.
I turned and left the warmth of the circle, jogging down the corridor and retreating into the dark corner of our camp.
WORD ARRIVES IN BLACK
I woke up early the next morning still in my clothes from the day before. As was my habit, I slung my rifle onto my back before leaving the tent. Before I could stop myself, I crept over to Rose’s tent, unzipped the doorway not more than an inch, and peeked inside. She was alone, curled in her fetal sleeping position on her bedroll. I sighed. Thank God.
I tiptoed out of the camp, not wanting to run into anyone yet and have to answer the “where were you last night” or “why’d you storm away” questions.
“Hey, French. Over here.” Halfway up the incline of the westward-facing hill Clarence held his hand up above his head to get my attention. He was with Miig and General and a few other men I didn’t recognize. They were all wearing shades of green and brown, and two of them had leafy branches stuck through their hats.
I waved and made my way over.
“You gotcher gun on ya?” Clarence shook my hand and nodded at the gun barrel over my shoulder. I nodded.
“All right then, let’s go. Hunting day.” Miig clapped me on the back and smiled, happy to see me there so early. I didn’t want to tell him it had been a fluke. That I’d fallen asleep in fits and spurts and gotten up when I couldn’t force my wandering mind to stay stationary anymore.
I spent the day in complete silence, trying to emulate the grace of the older men through the woods. Out here there was water, you could smell it in the air. The more north we got, the more life was left in the woods. I inhaled big.
“Closer you get to the coasts,” Clarence whispered, pointing east, west, and then north, “the more water’s left that can be drunk. The middle grounds?” He made his hand stiff and made a striking motion. “Nothing. It’s like where the bomb landed and the poison’s leeched into the banks, everything’s gone in all directions till you get further out.”
I didn’t know what to say. I knew that had been Clarence’s traditional territory.
“Sorry,” was all I could manage.
If he heard me, he didn’t let on. “All we need is the safety to return to our homelands. Then we can start the process of healing.”
I was confused. “How can you return home when it’s gone? Can’t you just heal out here?”
Miig and General gave each other knowing looks, and Clarence was patient in his answer. “I mean we can start healing the land. We have the knowledge, kept through the first round of these blasted schools, from before that, when these visitors first made their way over here like angry children throwing tantrums. When we heal our land, we are healed also.” Then he added, “We’ll get there. Maybe not soon, but eventually.”
A high whistle came through the trees, and General pulled me to the ground with him. I was frantic. Was it the Recruiters? I tried to claw my gun strap to pull the weapon into my hands and to the ready. On the other side of me, Miig turned around and put a finger to his lips, shushing my small noises.
I heard footsteps, a deep echo in the ground, and then branches breaking. Finally, there was silence and then another whistle, this one shorter.
From around me came the sudden sounds of breath, and I realized we’d all been holding ours, then movement, as everyone scrambled to their feet.
“Was it Recruiters?” I asked out loud. “Did they get anyone?
General answered, “No, no, little brother. That was the scouts letting us know they had an animal in sight, one that was the right age to be taken. Sounds like they got it, too.”
I coaxed my heart back into normal rhythm and followed the group to where they had, indeed, taken down a good-sized buck. Miig was preparing the ceremony when I got there to send it off in a good way. We allowed the deer to take his dreams with him so he had all the magic he would need to find the next world.
We returned mid-afternoon as heroes. I was more than a little smug, trundling down the hill, helping to maneuver the weight of a full-grown buck on the travois we’d strapped together out of branches and sinew. Even though I’d done nothing but tag along and then panic when the kill was actually made. Still, I was there. I was damn near giddy when I saw the look on Derrick’s face as we passed by where he was leg wrestling with his friends. He had his shirt off and tucked into his back pocket, and I couldn’t help but notice the definition of his muscles. I flexed under my sweater.
“Uncle, I told you to wake me up,” he whined, jogging alongside us to speak.
“I shouldn’t have to wake you up. You should be awake and ready like the rest of the men. Like French, here.” I tipped an imaginary hat in his direction and watched the color blossom in his cheeks. He stopped following us, and we made our way to the outdoor kitchen near the mouth of the cave.
“Oh, French, that’s a beautiful buck.” It was Rose. She ran over from the clothes-washing area and put her hand on my arm. It made me shiver, and I had to try real hard to remember why I was angry with her. But once I had that image of her and Derrick the Dink two-stepping right in front of me, I pulled away from her.
“Yeah. Why don’t you go watch Derrick wrestle over there.” I pointed with my lips. “I’m sure he’d love to have a cheerleader.”
Her face fell, and I started to feel flustered. “What are you doing, Francis?” She said it low since there were others around.
“Why don’t you just call me French? Only people I respect can call me Francis.” I couldn’t stop myself. I wasn’t even sure how much of this I meant.
She grabbed me by my elbow and led me through the kitchen and around the perimeter of the hill, back over towards our camp. When we reached the first tent I shook loose and she turned on me.
“What in the hell is your problem?” She was only six inches from my face, and I could see anger flash in her dark eyes.
“What do you mean, what’s my problem? I’m not the one who’s mooning after some jerk with a drum.�
�� It was louder than I’d meant it to be, and she flinched.
“You’re the jerk around here. You wouldn’t even talk to me yesterday and you expect me to just follow you around or something?” She pursed her lips together when she was done, like she had to struggle to keep back some words.
“Oh, I’m sorry I can’t be at your beck and call all the time.” I wasn’t sure why I’d said it. It’s not like she actually expected that. I even screwed up my face and flounced my hands about, as if imitating her snobby behavior. Well, this managed to unpurse her lips.
“You know what, French? You’re different. At first I thought it was because of RiRi and Minerva, but no, you’re even more different here.” Her voice broke on the names a bit, but she took a breath and kept going. “I should just leave. After we find Minerva, I should just go. I don’t want to stay around here when you’re being such an ass.”
I’d regret this next line forever.
“What, and leave your new boyfriend, Derrick, behind? Whatever. Don’t expect me to chase after you.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and I was ashamed. So ashamed I dropped my head and looked at the ground so that all I saw of her retreat was the movement of her shoes as she took off, sobbing.
I waited until I couldn’t hear her, until I was able to move my heavy limbs and drooping head. I couldn’t go to my tent. I was scared to be alone in there right now. So I trudged the path back to the cave, past the celebrations in the outdoor kitchen, up the corridor and into my father’s room. I flopped face first on his bed and stayed that way until he came in an hour or so later.
He rustled about for a few minutes and then, satisfied that I was awake, began to speak.
“Did I ever tell you about how I ended up in the city?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t remember even hearing stories about my dad outside of him being my dad. I hadn’t really considered him anything other than that.
“I ran away.”
I should have sat up, showed some interest. But I just couldn’t.
I heard his calloused palm rub at his moustache, an old habit. The sound made me feel safe and very young.
“Yup. I was thirteen when I decided.”
“That young?”
“Uh-huh. I remember that day, too. It had rained in the morning, but the sun came out after lunch.” I tilted my head towards his voice, so that I held my face in the palm of one hand, listening.
“Painted wood, when you leave it alone, works itself out. Like it needs to get back to an honest shade. It’ll fade blue to skinny green. The church where I went that day, it had rubbed itself grey. It made the birch around it seem real stark by comparison, like bone splinters sticking out of the ground like that.”
He settled his weight on the bed beside me and continued. “I remember the old people used to say that the church was a medicine house. I sat there that day on top of my backpack in the aisle between two rows of pews so rough they’d cut your legs if you wore shorts to service and thought, this doesn’t look like no medicine house to me. They used to say that men who came in left as something entirely different, something with hands that wouldn’t obey natural law and hearts heavy and empty at the same time.
“Me, I needed something to change. Maybe that’s why I went out there to that church. Nothing seemed solid to me anymore. Like everything was a drawing of what it was supposed to be, you know? I felt like my hands would pass right through the door when I showed up. But that day my hands needed to touch something real.”
He extended his arthritic fingers out in front of him, throwing shadows over the bedspread.
“That church sat in the woods behind our rec center; it was like a small comma in a long sentence. It was shallow and narrow, not much bigger than the portable where Mrs. Gunther taught English with Reader’s Digest magazines. When it was used it held about twenty people or so, that’s at best — fifteen if the Boire boys were at service. Me, I didn’t give a shit about God or the Jesus one way or another. But I knew this would be the last place they’d look. If my mère decided to get up that day, and if she knew me anymore, she might come. I didn’t care. She’d be better off talking to the wood bugs outside. She’d get a better response. They wouldn’t think up new swears to yell at her or jab her with sticks sharpened by Grandpa’s old hunting knife. But then, I might not either. But you never could tell by then … I couldn’t guarantee anything.”
His voice sounded far away. I turned so that I was facing him now. He spoke to a spot over my head and nearer to the wall, like this was a story that was written in the space between us.
“The rages came at the weirdest of times then: eating Cheerios, watching music videos, hanging out. A garbage can got set on fire outside the school. I couldn’t even tell you for sure it was me.” He kind of laughed there, a laugh with no joy in it.
“Then I thought, jeez, what if it isn’t my mom that finds me here? The thought made the back of my knees prickle. What if it was one of them in a pickup truck, on a dirt bike, in a shiny government-black car, one hand outstretched, the other hidden behind a back?”
His body went rigid. I read the stress in the veins that popped anxious Braille into his neck. His eyes looked at something I couldn’t see. “And what was there even to keep me safe? What, a broken crucifix, maybe? My pocket knife? I was thirteen then, not old enough to fight a grown man. So I did the only thing that came to mind just then, something I’d done only once or twice before when shit got real bad. I got to my knees, pressed my fingers so tight the skin around my bitten nails ached, and prayed. I needed an answer. I prayed and prayed, closing my eyes so tight I saw constellations on my eyelids. And I listened for an answer.
“I listened and I heard a bird. I heard a cricket, and I heard some kids yelling for someone to pass the ball. And then there it was, the answer. It was the smooth swoosh of metal and rubber on the Trans-Canada, tied like a ribbon of tar over the bush. Old Highway 11. So I nodded my thanks to the blind Christ and threw my backpack over one shoulder. I was scared, but more scared of staying. I knew at least on the other side there could be a place, anyplace, where hands couldn’t reach.”
We were quiet for a minute. He was so still it frightened me. Then he pulled away from wherever he had gone and smiled at me.
“I went to the city after that. Bummed around for a bit, tried to stay away from the cops and then the military when they took over. I found your mom there. She was the most beautiful girl in the world. And mean as dirt when she wanted to be. But not to me.”
He smiled real big then. And there was joy in that.
“I was so happy, French. She made me feel like I was important, like a captain of industry or a scientific genius, and that was just from the look she’d give me when I was doing nothing special at all. It was amazing, really. Now that’s medicine. Don’t need no damn house to keep it in.” He nodded his head, as if convincing me of the truth of it.
Then from out in the cave came the shuffle of feet down the corridor and voices getting louder into the valley.
“Jean, astum!” It was Clarence shouting for my dad. We both stood, and I helped him up and out. I slung my rifle forward as we made our way down the hall and into the valley. Chi-Boy popped out the shadows as if he’d been waiting there all along on a spring.
“They’re on the move. Tomorrow.” It was an old man in black robes, waving his arms while he shouted, half out of breath.
The sound of air being punched out of a gut came from Miig. He’d come from the kitchen to stand behind me. “Priest,” he managed. I raised the rifle so he was in my sight. Chi-Boy rushed towards the man, lowering his shoulder in tackle position.
“French, wait! Chi-Boy!” It was my dad, yelling with his hand up towards us. Chi-Boy stopped his charge midway. “This is Father Carole. He’s our guy on the inside.”
I lowered the gun and turned instead to brace Miig, who was ben
t over with his hands on his knees, pale with the shock of seeing a school official.
“Carole has news about Minerva.”
The older man sighed his relief and tried again. “They’re moving her tomorrow morning. They’ll be taking her to the airstrip just west of here to fly her into the Capital.”
My heart sank. The Capital? How would we get there on time? “Well, I guess that’s it, then.” I kicked a rock that skidded to a stop just in front of the priest.
“No, son.” Dad was smiling. “That’s great news.”
I squinted at him. “How do you figure?”
It was Father Carole, confident he wasn’t about to be mowed down by a bunch of angry Indians, who answered.
“Because, my dear boy, they must pass right by here on the Trans-Canada to get from Espanola to the airstrip. They’ll be bringing her right to us.”
LOST AND FOUND AND LOST
We were up early, before the sun. The Council meeting was fast and heated while we discussed the best way to do this. To their credit, no one even mentioned the possibility of staying out of it, not even old Bullet.
“Let’s get these bastards. We get the Elder, we have the key.” She was heated.
“We need to organize the families to start a pack-up. We’ll have to go into deep hiding after this. They’ll come for us for sure, once we initiate a fight.” Clarence spoke from experience. Out on the prairies, the Cree had put up a fight. They’d held out for a pretty long time, too, before the armed forces were brought in with drones to pick them off.
The Marrow Thieves Page 17
