Waubgeshig Rice - Moon of the Crusted Snow

Evan was surprised to see that the parking lot was packed. Trucks, cars, and snowmobiles were lined up sloppily in front of the store. He saw Nicole’s cousin Chuck lumber out carrying a cardboard box nearly twice as wide as his frame, and he was a big man.

Evan watched Chuck put the box in the back of his truck, hop in the cab, and back out of there in a hurry. He got to the front door just as Isaiah was coming through with bulging plastic bags. He looked serious.

“Hey, shouldn’t you be at work, Indian?” Evan joked, as he nudged the shoulder of his friend’s red plaid lumberjack jacket.

Isaiah cracked a weak smile. “Permanent vacation, Nishnaab!” he replied. “Didn’t you know?” His smile faded. “Hey, you should probably get in there. There’s not much left.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“I dunno, I guess people are starting to panic. My mom came by my place about an hour ago saying it was mayhem down here.”

“Fuck, really? I didn’t expect this.”

“Me neither. I guess we didn’t do a good job convincing people to relax yesterday.”

“Does Terry know? What about Walter?”

“I heard Terry was down here earlier asking people to take it easy. Obviously it didn’t work.”

“Goddamn it.”

The front door thrust open again and Sarah Whitesky blew past Isaiah and Evan.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Evan said. “What kind of snobby Indian are you, not even recognizing your little bro?”

She stopped suddenly. “Oh shit, sorry Ev,” she said. “I didn’t even see you there!” Sarah’s glasses concealed much of her expression but Evan looked closely and noticed the tension around her eyes.

“So what’s the rush?” he asked.

“I dunno,” she replied. “I just heard everyone was buying up everything down here. I didn’t wanna miss out.”

“There’s supposed to be another truck coming in a couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, but at this point, no one knows that for sure,” his sister asserted.

“Fuck sakes.”

“Bro, people aren’t as prepared as you,” Isaiah said bluntly. Frustrated, Evan looked again at the line of vehicles hastily gathered in front of the building. A few more came down the road as people rushed out of the store holding boxes and bags.

“I gotta get going,” Sarah said. “Come by later, brother. Bring the kids. Love you!” She hustled down the stairs to her idling car.

“I should go too,” Isaiah said. “Don’t worry because everyone else is worrying. We’ll all have a good laugh about this later.”

“Yeah, we better.”

They nodded farewell and Evan stepped up the stairs. He pulled the white steel door open to a blast of heat. Loud chatter buzzed as people with loaded arms crowded the two checkout counters. Those who managed to secure shopping carts were only able to fill the bottom of the carts before store staff stepped in and pleaded with people to be mindful of the needs of others.

But it didn’t really work. Evan stepped around people holding their finds close to their bodies. He’d joked with some of these people prior to the meeting the day before — now they avoided eye contact.

He made his way through the checkout lineups to see what was left in the aisles. The lights reflected off every surface, illuminating the empty shelves. Random green leaves, stems, and stalks lay scattered about the small produce section that hugged the close wall. Across the aisle, every bag of heavily preserved white and whole wheat bread was gone. A few boxes of soda crackers remained.

In the next aisle, a few tins of sardines were strewn across the top shelf. All the canned peas, carrots, corn — usually the least popular of the food items — were gone. On the lower shelf, a few jugs of cooking oil and some condiments like mustard were still there. Evan moved through the rest of the store, making an inventory of what else was left: dry dog food, vinegar, hot sauce, baked beans (which he grabbed), salt, baking soda. The refrigerator was barren of milk and eggs. He decided it was time to leave before he descended into panic too.

By the time he finished his walkthrough of the trading post, most of the customers had paid and left. Evan approached the counter with a can of beans in each hand. The manager, Donny Jones, eyed him up as he neared.

“Slim pickins today, eh Ev?” he joked. “What were you able to rummage up?”

“Uh… some beans. Came looking for milk and eggs. You’re out though.”

“Yep, we’re out of lots of stuff.”

“What the hell happened here today?”

“I dunno. People must be spooked about the power being out.”

“Are you?”

“I’m just here to sell them what they need. Even if it’s just a little blip, it’s good for business!” Donny adjusted his glasses. “Supposed to be another truck coming in next week. No wait, it’s the week after. Losing track of my days here! Either way, we’ll have more stock in.” He noticed Evan’s blank stare. “What’s wrong, bud?”

Evan shook his head. “Nothing,” he replied. “Just thinking about what we got left at home. We’ll be fine until the next truck comes in.”

“Yeah, we’ll all be fine. Guess people just get a little worried sometimes.” Donny rang up the two cans. Evan paid him and left.

He stared at the road the whole drive home. He didn’t notice the kids still playing on the snowbank, nor Isaiah and Tyler flooding the rink to make ice as he turned down the road that led to his house. The windows stayed shut and the stereo off while the cigarette he had lit as he left the store slowly burned out in the ashtray.

He tucked the cans under his left arm and opened the front door. The kids’ movie was coming to its tender climax. They sat on the couch with their mother, eyes glued to the screen. Nicole turned to look at him when he shut the door.

Evan held up the two cans and shrugged. Nicole gave him a confused look. He said nothing and bent over to untie his boots. He hung up his coat and walked through the living room to the kitchen. He gently placed his tiny haul on the kitchen counter without saying a word.

Three more cold nights passed. The generator power would only last so long. The chief called another emergency meeting at the band office, this time just with the councillors and select staff. There was still no communication with anyone in the outside world. Terry leaned over the front desk in the main foyer, staring at his hands. The wind howled outside, blowing snow across the walkway to the front door.

“At this point,” Terry started, his voice cracking. “I think we should just send out a second notice. Another meeting will just make them really panic.”

Amanda Jones stepped away from the wall behind him and spoke up. “What do we tell them? We don’t know anything.” The bangles on her wrists clanked as she gestured out and upward, as if to raise the confusion to the ceiling.

“I think we just tell them to be patient,” said Walter, who was leaning against the desk. “We gotta tell them that this is the new status quo for the time being: to keep conserving power and water.”

Evan watched each of the council members closely. They looked tired. He could see the worry and fatigue in Amanda’s eyes. She was only a few years older than he was. Terry sighed. “Alright, Joanne, do up another one.”

Joanne wheeled back to the keyboard. Her son Tyler moved to stand behind her. Although he was there as a rez staffer, he was also there to support his mother. She’d been having a particularly tough time over the past week. Kevin, Tyler’s younger brother, was attending college down in Gibson for welding. Bright and ambitious, he planned to get his education and spend a few years working in southern Ontario before returning home. No one had been able to contact him since they had been cut off. That was over a week ago. He was one of nine from the community living elsewhere for their post-secondary education. Amanda’s little brother Nick was at the same college as Kevin.