Christian Guay-Poliquin - The Weight of Snow

In the village, Joseph begins, some people claim it’s going to snow for the next few days. I don’t know how they can read the clouds, but that’s what they’re saying. And they’re saying it’s going to be a long winter. But you don’t need a crystal ball to come to that conclusion. In any case, this is a lot of snow for this time of year. Even with my snowshoes, it’s not easy to get up here. I think your house is moving a little further from the village every day.

When he speaks, Joseph waves his arms in the air and the ash falls off his cigarette, though he doesn’t notice.

This week, a group of hunters came out of the woods. Everyone had given up hope of seeing them again. The rest of them had returned from their camps a long time ago. They wanted to avoid needless manoeuvres, so they waited until the ice on the lakes was thick enough to bear their weight. With all the moose carcasses they were bringing back, I can understand. In the village, everyone’s busy salting the meat and putting it up. There’s no prettier sight.

He stubbed out his cigarette and leaned over me.

But we still have no news of your family. In the village, some people are saying that they had trouble in the woods and got trapped in the snow. Who knows? People tell all kinds of stories. Maybe they decided to spend the winter in the woods, far from the blackout and everyone else. I’m not worried about them, they’ve seen it all before.

As Matthias serves us coffee, I picture my uncles and their hunting camp. It stands on the bank of a river, between two chains of mountains. At that spot, I remember, the water is fast and the riverbed is deep and green. To get across you need a canoe. On the other side, the cedars are enormous and moss carpets the ground. The camp is back from the river. You follow a path made of roots to reach it. When you spot the chimney through the trees, you’re there. It’s not very big, but there’s room for everyone. They could very well spend the winter there.

You know, Joseph continues, we’ve had a few meetings in the village. Even with the blackout, Jude wanted to go on being mayor. At first we weren’t too sure, but José threw his support behind him and everyone got used to the idea. After all, we’re not so bad off, and we owe that to Jude. He does the coordination work, takes good care of our precious supply of gas, and distributes the provisions that were stored in the grocery. Since the blackout hit, half the population has deserted the village. People went to other villages, or the city, or maybe into the woods, who can say? Jude is right. No sense leaving. Or worrying more than we need to. We have to stick together and make it through the winter. It’s strange, but if you ask me, the snow has made people calmer. Almost everyone was there when it was time to bring in the stove wood. I’ll be bringing you some soon.

A prisoner of my bed, I curse my fate. I would have loved to contribute and fell a few tall trees. Instead, I twist and turn in bed, my head in a vise and my legs in splints.

Meanwhile, Joseph adds, we keep watch over the entrance to the village, but with this buildup of snow, I’d be surprised if we had any visitors. I’m happy not to have to do surveillance and carry my rifle wherever I go anymore. The thing is heavy for nothing. If there’s a problem, the church bells will sound the alarm. That church has to be good for something. Jude asked us to go through the abandoned houses and gather up the supplies that people left behind. In one cellar, we found someone’s garden harvest – potatoes, carrots, and turnips.

With those words, Joseph picks up the bag and sets it on the table. Matthias reaches for it immediately, delighted by the abundant manna.

And someone managed to dig up an old short-wave radio kit and solar panels, Joseph says.

Were you able to communicate with other villages? Matthias questions him.

No. We tried, but no one really knows how to use that thing. On the other hand, with the solar panels we can recharge our batteries without starting up the generators. And I found a hand-powered water pump. We drove a pipe into the snow and we can finally draw water directly from the river. We also came across some propane tanks, fondue pots, tools, and blankets. Some people use the search to take all the money they can find, as if the return of the electricity would usher in their hour of glory. There were a few skirmishes, but no one wanted to get involved.

Did you bring some milk? Matthias interrupts him.

No, that will be next time. There are only twelve cows left in the stable. All the rest turned into meat. The herd would not have made it through the winter with the hay we have. To go looking for milk is complicated, so we keep it for the children. But everyone who tasted your cheese really liked it. Some of them are ready to barter to get more.

Matthias raises his eyes and gives Joseph a questioning look.

I’m telling you, your cheese really is good. You should go see Jacques. He lives in the old hunting and fishing store. He’s an odd duck, but his offers are always the best. Everyone ends up doing business with him.

Matthias thinks it over a moment, then goes back to methodically putting away the meat, vegetables, and preserves. Joseph comes over to me.

It’s good, you’re getting stronger, or at least it looks that way to me. In the village nobody believes me when I say you’re going to make it. While we’re at it, I have a present for you. A while back I went and had a look at the old mine entrance. I hadn’t been inside for fifteen years. Remember? We went there all the time when we were kids. I’d heard that people had holed up in there looking for shelter. But there was no one, that was just a rumour. Anyway, what can anyone do in that place? I mean, besides sneaking a cigarette, scaring the bats by shooting at them, and drawing timeless pictures of extinct animals on the walls? You remember, don’t you?

Then Joseph slips his hand into the inside pocket of his coat and hands me a little box.

I stumbled over this in there.

As I am about to open it, I notice Matthias watching us on the sly as he divides up the rest of the supplies in the cellar. In the box, I discover a slingshot and a few iron pellets. I pick it up, test the elasticity of the rubber band, weigh the pellet in my hand, and place it in the middle of the leather band. I aim at different objects in the room, but don’t dare take a shot. Joseph smiles.

I knew you’d like it. We had the same kind back in the day. Next time we’ll see which one of us can still hit a target, but right now I have to go if I want to be back in the village before dark. Oh, I forgot, Maria says she’ll come see you in the next few days.

As Joseph puts his coat back on and chats with Matthias, I practice with the slingshot, thinking of my uncles in the heart of the forest, living off the hunt.

Joseph says goodbye and closes the door. Suddenly the room seems empty. On the floor, his boot prints shine like great interlocking lakes seen from a mountain top at dawn.

Outside, shadows lengthen over the landscape. The wind has risen. I can hear it swoop down the stovepipe. The snow is heavy now. The flakes are so big that a single one could blot out the view. Matthias lights the oil lamp and, his eyes shining, holds up a package of meat high in the air like a trophy, like precious spoils.

So, hungry now?

The squall shakes the porch, the walls groan, and the silence shatters clean through.

Matthias is sleeping. His breathing blends in with the flames growling in the woodstove. And the gusts of wind trapped under the eaves. Sleep eludes me. I think of Maria, the way she speaks to me, the way she laughs at my silence, her hands gentle when she examines my wounds, and the memories that well up when I see her. She hasn’t come to see me for a long time. Time heals what it can, but nothing has been resolved. I am still lying here, and I watch the days leading one into the other and hope one day that my legs will carry me again. Meanwhile, Matthias feeds and cares for me. I know he has no choice. We are each other’s prisoners.