Waubgeshig Rice - Moon of the Crusted Snow

“Sometimes all we got is laughter,” Nicole said, echoing something her own mother would say. “Around here we say it’s good medicine.”

“Not much to laugh about these days, though.”

“You guys are still settling in. It’ll get better.” Nicole’s words hung in the air. She sensed the woman in front of her was on the verge of breaking. “Are you really alright over in your new place?”

“As good as we can be, I guess.”

Meghan paused and Nicole waited. It was obvious to her there was more this tired woman wanted to say.

“Scott’s a fucking asshole,” Meghan blurted out. “Sorry for swearing in front of your kids.”

“Don’t worry. They’ve heard them all by now. Especially since winter started.” Nicole flashed a friendly half-smile to ease the other woman’s rising tension and noticed tiny tears threatening to slip from Meghan’s eyes.

“He just… he orders us around. He threatens us. And the worst part is, Brad has totally fallen in line.”

“That’s your husband?”

“Yeah. It’s like he’s his little lapdog. And sometimes I catch Scott staring at me. It really creeps me out. I’m worried he’s gonna…”

Her voice cracked before trailing off. Nicole stepped forward to put her hand on her shoulder. Meghan tensed up at first, then Nicole felt her ease.

“Do you want to come back to our place for some tea and something to eat?”

Meghan wiped her nose with the back of her glove and sniffled hard. “Thanks, but I better not. I have more snares to check. He’s expecting us to bring back some food.”

“Is he pulling his weight at least?”

“I really don’t know. He says he has a plan.”

“A plan for what?”

“A plan for stuff to eat whenever all that emergency food runs out.”

“What could that be? We’re hunting and trapping already. We’ll set nets for fish when the ice breaks up.”

“He says that won’t do it. He always nods at Brad and Alex when that comes up — like he’s trying to intimidate them. But they won’t say anything to me about it. And it’s weird — he seems to be getting bigger, though I know that’s not possible. Probably it’s just the rest of us are getting skinnier.”

Nicole felt a chill run through her arms. What’s he planning on eating? she wondered. “Do you think they’re —”

“Sorry, I gotta go,” Meghan interrupted. “They’re probably waiting for me.”

“No, wait, just come get warm for a few minutes.”

“No, I can’t. Thanks, though. I’ll see you around. Nice to meet you kids!” She turned and trudged through the snow as quickly as the snowshoes would let her.

“Wait, hold up… Meghan!”

Her back was to them as she threw up a hand to wave goodbye. The emptiness in her gut told Nicole to take the kids back home.

Tyler fumbled with a heavy ring of keys as dawn broke in the east. The cold bit at his bare fingers. Terry, Evan, and Isaiah stood behind him, shuffling on the crusty snow with their snowshoes under their arms.

“Goddamn it, hurry up!” prodded Isaiah. “It’s fuckin’ freezing out here!”

“Calm your ass down,” Tyler responded. “I got it.”

Keys clanked as he unlocked and pulled the door to the shop open. They entered, their billowing breath tinted purple and orange in the morning light.

Ration day was Tuesday. Though most had abandoned their calendars, they managed to count the days between the rationing. Terry still managed the food dispersal and he maintained a routine as best he could. He relied on a small black day planner that he kept in the front pocket of his parka, but it wouldn’t matter if he lost it: the hungry showed up every Tuesday, earlier and earlier with each passing week.

Home delivery of food supplies had ended about two months earlier, when the gas and diesel allotted for vehicles ran out. Now it was up to each person to come and get their own rations. The shop had become the designated pickup spot because of the bodies stored in the garage at the band office. It was farther for most people to walk, but it was the only reasonable solution. Few other community buildings were fortified or secure.

Late one night, they had moved about half of the food cache — enough for the rest of the winter, they calculated — from its storage under the garage to the shop. It took all night. With the bodies lying nearby, the process was sombre and weird.

Isaiah went to the back room to start a fire in the backup wood furnace. The brightening morning pushed through the small windows on the east and north walls of the building, lighting the main room where the men gathered. Each sat on a plastic chair, waiting for the space to warm before getting to work.

“We gonna have any major meltdowns today?” Evan asked.

“Hope not,” said Terry.

Roughly 100 people came every week for food. When you multiplied that with the number of people back in their homes that was about a quarter of the community’s population. The others still had enough, with their own stockpiles of frozen meat and canned food gathered and bought before the blackout in the fall.

Evan and Tyler went to the back to get boxes of canned ham and peas and hauled them to the front, placing them behind the white tables that would become the weekly dole station. They repeated this until they had eight hundred cans ready to go.

“I dunno how these people can eat this shit,” muttered Tyler, setting down a case of canned ham. It was a generic brand, also known as “rez food.” Only the most impoverished ate it — those with a little more money or hunting and fishing skills took pride in being able to avoid it. But now, few could afford to be picky.

“I dunno man, fry it up and put some mustard on it, and it’s not too bad,” said Evan.

“That’s sick.”

“What kind of snob are you, anyway? Don’t forget, you’re rez, man!”

“Yeah, but until everything goes back to normal, I can take care of myself.”

“What do you mean ‘back to normal’?”

“When the power’s back on and everything.”

Evan said nothing. He couldn’t tell if his friend was naïve or in denial. He thought it was likely the latter: maybe it was the trauma of his younger brother Kevin’s story of escaping the collapse of the city. Maybe Tyler just didn’t want to accept it.

When they returned with the last of the cans for the week, Amanda was at the table, poring over a handwritten chart and making an inventory of what was going out. The front door opened again, letting a blast of cold air in, and Sydney, Cam’s partner, walked in. “Mino gizheb. How you guys doing this morning?”

Amanda looked up at her niece and smiled. “Oh hi, my girl! Nice to see you. We’re doing good, thanks. You here for some miijim?”

“Yeah, if you got some.” She pulled two large canvas bags out of her parka pockets and walked up to the table. “Miigwech, I really appreciate it.”

“How’s my nephew doing?” Evan asked.

“Oh, he’s good. He loves being with his grandma and grandpa all the time now.”

That was news to Evan. “He’s with your mom and dad?” he asked. He knew they stayed there regularly, but this sounded permanent.

“Yeah. I am too.”

“How long you been there?”

“Almost a week now.”

“Oh yeah? How come?”

“I didn’t want Jordan to be around those people anymore.”

Scott and his followers. The rumours had only grown since their last confrontation. Evan realized, with a jolt and some shame, that he had been avoiding his brother. Sydney’s stern tone and blank face scared and disturbed him.

“Is Cam with you at your parents’?” he asked.

“He drops in once in a while,” she replied, as she helped Amanda load her bags with the cans.