Christian Guay-Poliquin - The Weight of Snow

Come on, you don’t want it bad enough. You need strong arms to walk on crutches. Stand straight. Do what I do.

Matthias starts by rotating his head, stretching out his arms on both sides, and breathing deeply. I imitate him the best I can, sitting on the edge of my bed. He bends his elbows, clasps his hands behind his back, and leans his torso forward.

Hold the position, he explains. Hold it and extend it. You should feel your body, you should be centred on it, push harder when it starts to hurt.

We repeat the series of movements several times over until someone knocks at the door. Matthias wheels around. More knocking.

We haven’t finished, he warns me, then goes to open the door.

At first I hope it’s Maria, but disappointment takes over when Matthias invites the visitor in. He walks into the room, leans his rifle against the wall, and puts two hares on the table. Matthias and I consult each other with a glance. Neither of us knows this man.

This is for you, the man tells us and points to the hares.

Matthias looks at the two bodies as if he were afraid they would get up and start running.

Thank you, he stammers, thank you very much. Do you want some coffee?

The visitor accepts with a nod, and when Matthias turns his back, he focuses his attention on me.

He has salt and pepper hair and a reddish beard. His face has been worn by the sun and the cold. Built close to the ground, in his fifties. Or a little older. Behind him, his rifle shines.

My name is Jean, he says. We’ve met before, but it was a long time ago. Back when I worked at the school with your mother.

It’s true. His name awakes no memories, but his face is familiar.

Matthias serves the coffee.

I knew your father too, he goes on. Everyone knew him. I’m so sorry about what happened to him. We hadn’t seen him much these last years. His garage had turned into a complete rat’s nest and he stopped pumping gas. Some people said he was losing his mind, but I thought he just felt lonely.

Leaning on the counter, Matthias chooses discretion.

We were all surprised when we heard you were back, Jean says, changing his tone. I’m happy to see you’re getting better. Maria told us you’ll soon be on your feet.

Jean takes a big gulp of coffee and glances at his watch.

Actually, I came here to ask you for a favour. We need a mechanic.

His words startle me.

At first we thought of Joseph. He’s a jack-of-all-trades. But some people can’t stand him and we never know where to find him or in what house he’s sleeping. He won’t listen to anyone. And he’s not as experienced as you. Before there was your father, but now you’re the only mechanic around.

My heart is pounding. I stare at Jean.

What do you want done?

We want to put tracks on a mini-bus so it can run in the snow. We almost have everything we need, the parts, the tools, the welding equipment. We set up shop in one of the storehouses in the old mine. When we turn on the generators, it’s as bright as day in there. A great place to work. We need someone like you.

I clear my throat. I don’t know if I’ll be up to it.

We’ll find you a wheelchair if that’s what it takes. You’ll show us how to go about it, and oversee the workers. As soon as you can stand up and take a few steps, that’ll be good enough for us. I’ll come and get you. What do you say?

The thought of being a mechanic again has my head spinning. I’m surprised they need me, but I accept without thinking twice.

Sitting down at the table, Matthias fidgets and tries to catch Jean’s eye.

What’s the mini-bus for? Are you getting ready for the expedition? Are you going to leave before spring?

Jean rubs his beard.

We’re getting ready, but we’re a long way from knowing when we’ll be able to leave.

If I can do anything to help you, you’ll let me know, Matthias offers. I’ve been promised a spot on the expedition, and I intend to be part of it.

Sure, but for the time being, the main thing is to keep taking care of him, Jean tells him, pointing his chin in my direction.

I have to get back to town, Matthias insists, my wife is there.

For a moment, I picture the arteries of the city, completely blocked by pile-ups of abandoned cars.

Yeah, I understand, Jean says, visibly irritated. Have you heard the latest news? he asks, wanting to change the subject.

Curious, Matthias and I wait for what will come next.

A few days ago, three people showed up in the village in the middle of the night. None of us knew them. They were starving and suffering from frostbite. We took them in and did our best for them. They told us they lived in a village on the coast. They were well organized there, but then looting started, and the situation fell apart fast. They had to escape. Their snowmobile broke down three days’ walk from here. There were four of them at the beginning, but one of them froze to death. Jude assigned them a house, but he wants us to keep an eye on them. He doesn’t trust them because they have an accent that’s not from here.

What else did they say? Matthias asks, intrigued. Do they know what’s happening elsewhere? Like in the city? Do they know if the electricity has come back anywhere?

They told us their story more than once when they showed up, but since then they haven’t been too talkative.

That’s normal, I put in.

Jean agrees, nodding his head.

In the meantime, he continues, in the village the supplies are starting to drop. Jude asked everyone to make an effort, and we agreed to tighten the rations. That doesn’t please everyone, but that’s the way it goes. And that shouldn’t stop people from doing like me and setting snares.

Jean gets to his feet and slings the rifle over his shoulder. Then he tells me again to rest up and get stronger.

You should know that there are some bad cases of the flu in the village. You live up here, but be careful all the same. We’re starting to run out of medicine, and that complicates things.

Jean heads for the door, and Matthias thanks him for the hares. My pleasure, Jean says. He’ll bring us more when he can. Then he takes a last look in my direction. He’ll come and get me once they have all the materials they need.

Don’t worry, Matthias answers for me, he’ll be on his feet.

Matthias rolls up his sleeves and puts the hares on the counter.

I don’t know if I remember how to do this, he admits, turning them over. They are stiff with cold and rigor mortis. My father used to cook them in the lumber camps, way back when, but that was a long time ago.

I remember perfectly. My uncles used to ask me to fix the hares they caught. You have to delicately pull away the skin behind the shanks. Then you hold the back legs in one hand and pull on the fur that you’ve turned inside out.

While I peel potatoes, Matthias labours away, trying to pull off the skin completely, since the flesh is still frozen. Once that is done, he chops off the head with a hatchet, opens the belly, and empties the cavity. The guts smell strong. The smell of blood, and the forest after it has rained. Turning his head away, Matthias asks if I will be able to help them prepare the expedition.

We’ll see, I tell him, I certainly hope so. I’m even willing to do your exercises if they’ll help me recuperate faster.

I’m not talking about that. I mean the mechanic work, putting tracks on the minibus. Can you do that?

For ten years, I repaired dump trucks bigger than houses. Converting a minibus into a snowmobile, if I have the right parts, tools, and electricity, that shouldn’t be a problem. I can do more than peel potatoes, you know.

Matthias cuts the hares into pieces and puts everything into a big pot with oil and vegetables.