Waubgeshig Rice - Moon of the Crusted Snow

Then Dan took over. “Tyler, JC, and a couple of the other boys are in there right now,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder into the building. “They’re getting the generators ready to fire up. We were scheduled to test them next week anyways. This is a good chance to do a run-through.”

Evan breathed out in relief, a bit embarrassed he’d been so worried.

“Joanne is down at the band office getting ready to print off notices,” Terry continued. Tyler’s mom was one of the band administrators. In a small community, family members worked together all the time. Terry and Dan had been friends since childhood, and JC Meegis, who was inside running tests, was Terry’s son.

“We’re going to tell people that we’ve turned the generators on so no one’s food goes bad and so they can get their houses warm. If the power doesn’t come back over the weekend, we’re gonna have a community meeting Monday afternoon at the band office. I brought you guys here because I thought we needed more maintenance done inside before these machines fire up. But it looks like it’s under control.”

The loud cranking of an engine echoed off the walls of the shop and one of the generators roared into operation.

“So we just need you two to deliver the flyers,” said Terry.

“Fuck, really?” said Isaiah.

“What’s your problem?”

“I don’t wanna go door to door on a Saturday morning.”

“You just have to drop them off, dumbass. The power’s gonna be on, so it’s not like anyone will be demanding answers from you.”

Evan chuckled.

“What’s so funny, Tweedle Dum?” prodded the chief.

“Nothing.”

“Okay then, get your asses to work! We’ll update you later.”

Evan looked at his father, and Dan gave him an easy smile back.

The sun was up and shining through the dust on the windshield as they drove back east into the heart of the community to pick up the notices from the band office. Songs of heartache and liquor blared again inside the cab. The fingers of Isaiah’s left hand were curling into different positions as it rested on the steering wheel.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually learning this shit?”

“Huh?” Isaiah looked to Evan then down at his fingers, positioned in a C chord on an air guitar. “Oh, yeah, I was just playing along in my mind.”

“What happened to your taste, man? You used to play the good stuff.” Evan shook his head.

Isaiah sang along in a nasally twang, as Evan sat back and thought fondly of the heavy metal they’d listened to as teens.

They rolled to a stop in front of the green single-storey building that housed the band office, the school, and the health centre. Evan stepped out of the truck to run in and get the flyers. He pulled the glass front doors open to find Joanne Birch waiting for him at her desk.

“Hold on, just printing them off now,” she said, without looking up from the computer screen. “I guess everything’s working up there?” Her brown hair fell in two tight braids that draped over her black hoodie emblazoned with the rez logo — an outline of three spruce trees on the white, yellow, red, and black background of the four directions circle.

“Seems to be,” he replied. “Everything here working?”

“The computer and the lights are on. All systems go, I guess.”

“When’s the last time the lights were on in here on a Saturday?”

“Beats me, I ain’t never worked on a Saturday. It’s the band office!”

They chortled and Evan gazed out over the spacious lobby as he waited. Its walls were lined with local art and a birchbark canoe hung from the beams below the skylight.

“You guys staying warm at home?” Evan asked.

“Yeah, Tyler had the furnace going pretty good. Didn’t even notice the power was off until it was time to make breakfast yesterday.” Tyler, who worked with Evan and Isaiah, was a few years younger than they and still lived at home.

“Right on. I slacked and let ours burn out.”

“What kinda Nishnaab are you?”

“I know. The kids didn’t seem to mind though.”

“Well, good thing you can at least put some videos on the TV now. I bet their patience is wearing thin. You’re lucky you got a good kwe at home to raise them right.”

Evan nodded. His heart fluttered.

Joanne rolled over to the printer, then back over to him, and handed over the stack of sheets. “Alright, here ya go. Have fun!”

As he stepped outside, Evan looked down at the flyer he was to distribute.

It was dark by the time Evan and Nicole dropped the children off at Dan and Patricia’s. Inside, only the living room lights were on. Maiingan and Nangohns ran to their grandparents with open arms even before taking off their winter jackets.

“Ah, n’nohnshehnyag!” said Patricia. “My little sweethearts, come to your nookomis.”

“Thanks for taking them,” said Nicole.

“You deserve a night off,” Patricia responded. “Go relax.”

They waved at their children, who waved back, jumping up and down at the prospect of a night with their grandparents.

“That used to be hard,” said Nicole, as she walked down the front stairs, “but some nights, it’s pretty easy.” Evan laughed.

The roads were dark — the council had decided against turning on the community’s few street lights — but the homes scattered along the route all now had some light pouring out into the evening. As he drove to Tammy’s place, Evan noted which homes were obeying the band’s request to limit power use.

“Shit, look at Vinny’s place,” he said. “He’s got every fuckin’ light in his place on!”

Vinny Jones’s two-storey home was unusual in this community of bungalows with raised basements. He’d been able to afford it because he worked in the mines to the west. Tonight his house stood out even more as it blazed with light.

“He’s probably got his stereo right cranked too,” added Nicole. “He’s gotta be having a party down in his basement.”

“When the shit really hits the fan, what are people like him gonna do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah nothing. I’ll go talk to him tomorrow.”

“Yeah, talk some sense into him.”

Most of the other houses had only a couple of lights on, either in the living room or kitchen. Many of the family dwellings here were identical, trucked in on the ice road one half at a time and fastened together. It was easy for Evan and Nicole to pinpoint which light was on in which room. The older homes, some crumbling and facing demolition, were harder to figure out.

They pulled in at a house that looked much like their own. The living room was dark, but they could see activity under the dull kitchen light of Tammy’s home. Evan knocked and opened the door without waiting for a response.

“Biindigeg!” bellowed Tammy’s husband, Will. “Let’s get this game on the go!” They both heard the slowness in his voice.

“Hold your horses!” teased Nicole as she reached down to untie her boots. Evan threw his leather jacket on the chair, and they joined Tammy and Will at the table.

Tammy sat on the near side, twisting around to rest her arm on the chair so she could greet them. Her black hair hung smoothly over her loose navy blue blouse. Across from her, Will held his arms outstretched in a comfortable welcome, Metallica’s Master of Puppets album stretched across the T-shirt that covered his middle-aged gut. At the centre of the table, a large plastic bottle of rye and another of rum sat surrounded by several big bottles of Coke and ginger ale.