Waubgeshig Rice - Moon of the Crusted Snow

“Shit, me neither,” he said. “Let’s go tell Terry.”

Terry leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through his hair before he let out a slow “Goddamn.” There were only a little over two hundred cans of chilli left and this didn’t match his inventory. He was sure there should be more but he didn’t know where they could have gone.

“There’s not gonna be enough,” Terry conceded. “Go back and get some boxes of that canned ham.”

“They’re gonna be upset,” said Isaiah, coming in from the back. “They just got that last week. No one likes leftovers.”

Terry failed to notice the sarcasm. “I don’t give a shit. It’s a free fuckin’ handout!”

“Whoa whoa whoa, chill! I was just kidding.”

“Funny guy. Go get the corn and beans then.”

Terry arranged the tables in a row in front of the supplies, facing the door. It opened, letting in a burst of cold air ahead of Jeff Whitesky and Walter and Dave Meegis.

People would be arriving soon. They had been coming earlier every week, as worry over depleting supplies simmered through many homes. For many of the families that didn’t hunt or fish, months of eating canned food was wearing on them. Their diet was a rotation of cans of ham, tuna, sausages, corn, peas, beans, various soups, and other non-perishables. They complained bitterly but they still felt entitled to the food, and took the band’s preparedness for granted. Who knew how they would cope when the stores ran out.

Amanda Jones and Debbie McCloud walked through the door. “Morning, boys,” Amanda said. “What’s on the menu today?”

Holding up his scribbled list, Walter peered over his glasses at them. “Chilli, ham, beans, and corn.”

“Yum!” said Debbie, sarcastically. She rubbed her belly. She was thinner now like most others.

“Thanks for coming,” said Terry, from the corner. He was still nominally the chief, but the strongest members of the council — especially Walter — had taken over a lot of the decision-making. Terry couldn’t bear to make the tough choices that might alienate some of the townspeople. And these days, all their choices were tough ones.

They organized the dole line mostly in silence. Occasionally, someone would crack a cheap joke or tease another. The people in that room had accepted that life as they had become accustomed to in the last two decades would not return.

The building finally warmed up. Debbie untied her heavy black boots so she could take off her snow pants. Amanda removed her red parka and draped it over one of the chairs. The door cracked open and a sharp ray of sunshine shot across the floor. A hooded head and scarfed face poked through the small opening. “Is it food day?” Evan recognized Katie Birch, who had moved into her mother Vera’s place with her three kids.

“Ehn biindigen,” Walter said from his seat, waving her in.

Katie walked in and closed the door behind her. She pulled down her scarf and pushed back the hood of her jacket. She pulled three canvas bags out of her pockets. She smiled as she approached the table, revealing stained teeth. Toothpaste was another of the household items gone from people’s lives.

“What you need today, sweetie?” asked Debbie. “You still at your mom’s place?”

“Yep,” Katie replied. “Me and the kids are still there. Just the five of us still. My brother’s still at my place, but I haven’t seen him in a few days. I have a feeling he might come to my mom’s too, though. It’s cold there, and Scott’s cheap with the firewood. Keeps it all to himself.”

Terry looked down at his sheet. “Youse guys got any of that moose meat left?”

“Yep, we still got some. It probably won’t last much longer though.”

“Hmmmmm.”

“Okay, let’s see your bags then,” said Amanda. “We’re running out of chilli. Hope you don’t mind ham in a can.”

“Whatever you got,” Katie replied. “I’m just happy youse guys are doing this. We’d be pretty hungry by now if you didn’t.”

Tyler and Evan filled her bags with four cans of chilli, ten cans of the ham, ten cans of beans, and eight cans of corn. Homes with small children got priority with the protein-rich food, and the staff and council decided who needed what at their own discretion. They were growing suspicious of some people they believed were abusing the handouts.

Isaiah and Evan brought the bags back to Katie, who offered a simple miigwech and a smile before going back out the door and loading them on her plastic sled to pull home.

The morning proceeded mostly in quiet routine. Twenty cans of canned ham went to some. Fifteen went to others. They tried to spread out the chilli sparingly and fairly. Brandon Jones said he needed more cans of meat because his brother Matt’s family had just moved in with them. Jeff reminded him that they’d eventually have to get out and hunt. Brandon didn’t appreciate what he felt was scolding and told him to fuck off as he left.

By midday, a lineup had formed that snaked out the door and around the building. People held large backpacks, empty hockey bags, and plastic sleds at their sides, anticipating heavy hauls. Many faces had lost colour and some bore even the yellow stain of malnutrition.

Inside, the crew worked as quickly as possible to fill bags and answer questions. None had expected this sudden rush to the handout. There were lineups in previous weeks, but they hadn’t formed this quickly. It made them all uneasy. What’s behind this? thought Evan. What kind of rumours were going around that they hadn’t heard?

People in the line grew restless. With the door propped open as people tried to squeeze in, the team could hear shouting outside. Walter told Evan, Isaiah, and Tyler to go out and investigate.

Outside the shouts were crisp, cutting accusations and threats. “Fuck you, you’re the one who butted in front of me!” yelled one man. Evan recognized his cousin Jason. “Fuck that, asshole, step back!” said another man. He saw the tussle brewing about halfway down the line. As they approached, they could see that it was Tyler’s brother fighting with Jason.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Tyler shouted. “Break it up!” He stepped between their punches, taking a couple errant blows to the face in the process. Their heavy jackets and sweaters slowed their swings, but the men were bloody, with split lips and crunched noses. Others stepped in to pull them apart but soon got caught up in the violence and began scrapping with each other. Pent-up tension exploded along the line and it quickly descended into an all-out brawl.

Men and women swore and yelled. Adrenaline surged through Evan as he saw blood dripping from his cousin’s ashen face. They didn’t get along, but Jason was still family. He ploughed in, pulling at arms, punching at any face he could see until he found himself toe-to-toe with Tyler.

He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Tyler’s torso and driving him into the side of the shop. His cap came off and his long brown hair flew about. The slam knocked the wind out of Tyler. “What the fuck, Ev?” he grunted out as he tried to get his breath back. “Calm down! What are you doing?” He pushed at Evan’s arms to free himself from the grip.

Four sharp cracks of gunfire pierced the havoc, bringing silence to the melee. Justin Scott stood at the bottom of the road leading up to the shop, holding a handgun in the air. Despite the freezing temperatures, his bald head was bare, bouncing the sunlight back up to the sky. To his right stood Brad Connor, another of the newcomers.

Scott lowered the gun to his side and walked forward, the other man a step behind him. “Settle down.”

Evan and Tyler stood side by side, with dishevelled jackets and tussled hair. Scott looked at them. “Jesus Christ, what’s gotten into you two? I thought you were supposed to be the reasonable ones around here?”