“Every generation thinks it has the answers, and every generation is humbled by nature.”
Chapter 4: The Strangers
—General Douglas MacArthur
The afternoon air hung hazy between the
trees, its light sifting through the limbs. The sound of a chain saw
struggled against the afternoon somnolence before sputtering silent. Larry
could feel a knob of wood pinching his back and rolled over, blinking in the
light. His eyes seemed constantly bleary. Must be allergies, he thought, and
took another slug from his favorite bottle.
He inched himself upward to
rest against a tree. Nothing but trees around him. And silence. The way he
liked it. Much better this way. Not crammed full of people—outsiders—trying
to boss him around. “Larry, go cut some wood. Larry, go shovel some shit.”
He was twice their age, knew more about these woods than they did. Certainly
more than that damn Mountie and cop. One gone soft, the other born and bred
that way.
He scratched his stubble and
grinned. Soft, all right. Letting him take the afternoon watch. Too stupid
to guess he'd been stashing Danny's castoff moonshine all over the
perimeter. So no matter when they sent him off he'd be ready. Yeah, almost
perfect.
He heard the faint sound of
movement and rolled to the ground. He kept his bottle clutched in his hand
and tried to quiet his breathing. They were close, very close. Voices
floated through the hazy air.
“...Small community, mainly
Canadian. Goodly portion is urbanized natives.”
“Good.” Larry heard another,
deeper voice and squinted to see how many there were. They were still too
far away and the trees shadowed them. “The more of a mix the better,
overall. We've always supported ethnic diversity. No need to stop now.”
The other man murmured
something and the deeper voice replied sharply, “That's enough. It was that
kind of thinking that led us to where we are today. It will not be
tolerated.”
The speakers moved into
view. Two men, one in front and the other lagging behind. They were armed,
their rifles clasped loosely in their arms. Larry dug deeper into the
ground, hoping they would pass him by.
The first man spoke again.
“And what if they won't agree right off? How much debate can we afford?”
The deeper voice replied
calmly, “As much as it takes to survive.”
Larry yelped as a hand fell
on his shoulder. Gasping, he struggled to his feet, knocking his bottle into
the dirt. “God damn fucking idiots!” he shouted, whirling to face his
attacker. It was a woman, her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, her
rifle carefully pointed away from him. He flushed red. He hadn't heard her
approaching.
The woman backed off a few
feet. Larry whirled around to face the approaching men; his feet tangled and
he nearly fell. He felt her arm steady him. Larry squinted in the dim light.
The men were both clean‑shaven. Not like him. And they probably smelled
better than he did. He pulled away from the woman, hugging his arms to his
chest.
“Leave off,
Larry bristled at the
suggestion. “I may be drunk but I'm no God-damned American.” He didn't
realize he was shouting until the first birds fled into the nearby trees. He
could feel his face flushing.
“No,” the man replied,
assessing Larry. “Of course you're not. Are you all right?” The voice was
calm, non‑judgmental. Larry looked at their faces and saw no condemnation.
Only concern. He shifted his stance and nodded.
“Good. I'm sorry, I didn't
get your name?”
“Larry. Larry Dene.”
“And you live here by
yourself?”
Larry blinked again, trying
to process the question. “Of course I'm not. You said you had scouted—” He
stopped, his head making a painful turn. He looked around wildly to escape,
but could only see faces. Strange faces. He started to shake.
“Easy, Larry.” Dennis moved
forward and patted his shoulder. “Like I said. No need to be afraid. We're
here to help out.” The woman came around his other side and smiled. He
nodded hesitantly back at her.
“The reason I asked,” Dennis
continued, his hand pressing gently into Larry's shoulder, “was to confirm
our scouts' reports. You can't be too careful nowadays.” Larry kept his
mouth shut, but his heart slowed its frantic pace.
“We left
Larry shook his head.
“I thought so.” Dennis
turned and waved one of the men over. “Jim, you want to help Larry here?
After all, it must have been quite a shock finding us like he did. He's
still shaking!”
“Finding you?” Larry looked
around for
“You're a hero, Larry. We'd
have been wandering for some time if you hadn't shown us the way back to the
encampment. Once we'd gone off the main road—well, you know how all trees
look alike.”
The men laughed and Larry
reflexively joined in. Jim slung a friendly arm around his shoulder. He felt
steadier already. As they passed the tree where he had spent his watch, he
saw
Diefenbaker was the first to
greet them, growling deeply before running back along the muddy path. Ilene
came out from her cabin, saw the guns, and ran back inside. Within seconds,
Ray and Fraser had appeared, signaling to Danny and Nodin to keep themselves
ready and out of sight.
Ray felt his breath come
hard. He'd been working on the water pump with Fraser. They'd seen strangers
before. But not with what amounted to a hostage. And the
“Good day. My name is Benton
Fraser of the RMCP. May we help you?”
A thin gray‑haired man
handed his rifle to Larry and stepped forward. “Glad to meet you. My name is
Dennis O'Reilly,” he said, reaching out to shake Fraser's hand “We're
representatives of the Canadian government. Can we be of assistance?” His
hand hung in the air expectantly. It was smooth and uncalloused but he
carried himself with confidence. His lean frame and angular face had the
appearance of solidity.
Ray saw Fraser narrow his
eyes and then move forward to shake the other man's hand. “Yes, we'd be glad
for any help. How many are you? And where are you from?” Ray relaxed
slightly and lowered his revolver.
Dennis replied quickly,
“Well, before you get your hopes up too much, this is all we were able to
pull together on short notice. We're from
“I am sorry,” Fraser said.
“I didn't catch all of your names.” Ray mentally gave the point to Fraser.
“I'd be happy to introduce
us. Gather around.” A few more villagers had moved cautiously forward. Ray
tensed. Fraser shook his head and Ray relaxed again.
“As I said.” Dennis raised
his voice so he could be heard clearly. “We're government representatives
from the
Several people murmured
approvingly at the mention of medical training. Fraser nodded shortly.
“Well, won't you please come in. I think we can offer some refreshments and
you can tell us what you know.”
“Yeah, like how you all
happened to be traveling together, happen to all be public officials, and
what you're doing out here?” Ray raised his gun and deliberately slid it
into his shoulder holster. Dennis's eyes flashed at the movement and he
looked inquiringly at Fraser.
“Oh, I am sorry.” Fraser
spoke quickly. “Detective Ray Vecchio.
“Sure.” Ray scanned the
square before entering the visitor's center. Whatever the “officials” had to
say, he hoped it wouldn't slow down his efforts to get Fraser back home.
The center was crammed with
too many people to fit comfortably now. Ray stood in the back, keeping his
distance. Glancing at Fraser, he noticed the man's tight shoulders and
watchful air, and allowed himself to relax. Polite Fraser might be, but he
wasn't dumb. Surveying the hopeful faces, he nodded to Ilene. The town
wasn't dumb either. Just too damn desperate. If bug‑eyed aliens had arrived
claiming to be “government representatives” they'd invite them in and serve
them tea.
Fraser nodded and then
stood. The room quieted. Dennis rose to stand near Fraser, facing the crowd.
“Well, let's begin. I
understand from Constable Fraser here that you've managed quite well over
the winter.” Several heads near the front nodded.
“Excuse me.” Elu stood,
spilling her dark hair over her shoulder. “Can we talk about the¼the¼”
She paused, fumbling for words.
“The recent disorder? I am
sorry. Of course, I should have started with that first. You must forgive
us, but we're quite excited. Stewart Junction is the largest group we've
found so far.”
The crowd murmured. If they
were the largest group, it must be bad. Ray leaned back against the wall.
This could take a long time. Danny got up and joined him at the back of the
room.
Susan's hand shot up. “What
towns have you passed through? How many survivors have you found?”
Dennis cleared his throat.
“I started in
The murmurs grew. The
population of the
Dennis continued. “We know
very little about how it started. But whatever it was, it seems to have
burned out. I trust you've seen no new cases since last November?” Heads
shook. Dennis looked relieved. “Good. Then the worst is behind us.”
Greg Nelson arrived huffing,
out of breath. He elbowed his way to the front and sat down.
Dennis nodded to him and
continued. “We've seen scatterings of small groups between here and
“Not that would have helped
any,” Danny muttered cynically under his breath. Ray nodded in agreement.
“So far we've rendered some
basic first aid, helped clear some roads, and set up a staging area. I have
a small team of another six following us a day behind. They should arrive by
tomorrow morning. We're recommending that survivors gather in
“Wait, I thought you said
the towns were hit hardest. And what about the disease—I mean disorder—won't
it come back? Is it safe to go back to the towns? And what about
“Please, please. Give me a
moment. As I said, it has burned itself out. No one we've met has reported
any new cases since November. And if it weren't safe to gather—well,
wouldn't you have noticed it first? You're the largest group we've met till
now and I understand you haven't had any problems?”
Relieved murmurs swept
through the crowd. Dennis raised his hand for quiet. “So don't worry. We
wouldn't be recommending this if we didn't think it was safe. And as for
Fairbanks—well, I'm sure you've picked up the same broadcast as we did.
Something seems to be interfering with the radio signals from the rest of
the country. But rest assured, we're looking into the
Ray snorted. “Here it comes.
Put two bureaucrats in a room and what do you get?” Danny grinned back. “A
bunch of baby bureaucrats?'' Ray elbowed him sharply and turned his
attention to the front.
Fraser was nodding and
various hands were being raised. Now for the really boring part. He turned
to Danny. “Want to help me with the water pump? Fraser seems to have them
under control. And if they're going to hand out projects, I'd like to get
the pump fixed before they start having us fill out forms to use the
outhouse.”
“God, you're so cynical.”
Danny laughed as he followed Ray into the town square.
“No, just practical. We're
not alone. And that means—”
“Coffee. Hot running water.
Good beer.” Danny stepped around a mud hole and caught up with Ray.
“I was thinking more of
mortgages, taxes, and annoying bosses. But I'll start with your suggestions
and work my way up.” He glanced up at the light. “We'd better hurry or we
won't have any water. Let alone hot.” They picked up their pace, both lost
in their thoughts.
He didn't hear Fraser come
in until late in the night. Rolling over, he saw Fraser kneeling to undo his
boots before entering the cabin. “'Verything okay?” he mumbled.
“Yes, it went well. We've
drawn up a complete list and we'll start discussing it tomorrow.” Fraser sat
down on the bed and began to unbutton his shirt.
Ray yawned. “Well, good.
Glad someone is taking charge of this crowd. They need to get moving.”
“We haven't been sitting
around idly these last months.” Fraser kept his voice quiet and soft.
“Of course not, Benny.
Didn't mean that. It's just that—” He yawned again. “It's just that they
haven't really been focused on what needs to get done to get everyone moving
again. You know, back to normal.” His eyes started to feel heavy and he
closed them.
“Like
“I'm not going to argue with
you about that, Fraser. But not everyone who shows up is some crazed Nazi
freak pushed over the apocalyptic edge. Dennis seems all right. And I am
sure they need us as much as we need them.” Sleep was dragging him down and
he could feel the lead creeping into his thinking.
“I am sure you're quite
correct, Ray.” There was a pause, as if Fraser wanted to continue. “Good
night, Fraser,” Ray mumbled pointedly and turned on his side. With a sigh,
Fraser leaned over the small table that served as their eating table and
blew out the light. “Good night, Ray.”
Fraser left the next morning
before Ray woke. Skimping on breakfast, Ray went in search. He found Fraser
in the visitor's center, the “Committee” and Dennis in attendance. Ray
scraped his boots on the metal bars and entered. As he walked up to the
table he heard Nelson blurt out, “But if we do that we won't have enough—”
He was hushed by Dennis. All heads turned to look at Ray.
Ray kept walking, refusing
to be intimidated. He eyed Fraser—his shirtsleeves were open and he had not
shaved. That was unusual. He certainly had risen early enough.
“Hi, Greg. Hi, Fraser. Is
that coffee I smell?” He moved forward, the familiar aroma spreading gently
into the air.
Dennis's face went smooth
and then he smiled. “Yes. We found a small cache over at
Ray smiled back, willing to
forgive even Dennis for a coffee, and waited expectantly. The faces turned
back to the table. Curious, he moved forward and leaned over Greg Nelson's
shoulder. “Ah,
Greg shifted uncomfortably
and then moved his chair back, bumping Ray in the shin. He winced and
sauntered around to Fraser's side.
“Well, don't all answer me
all at once,” he commented into the silence. “And when is someone going to
offer me some coffee?” Everyone seemed to have a full cup. Except Fraser.
And Ray.
Fraser took him gently by
the arm. “Dennis feels, and the Committee agrees, that it is better to
present the plan to the community in its entirety rather than piecemeal.”
Ray shifted his gaze
irritatedly to Dennis and opened his mouth to speak. He felt Fraser's hand
squeeze his arm gently and looked back at his friend. Circles appeared under
his eyes and his mouth was firmly lined. Fraser's fingers felt clammy and he
tried to pull away, but Fraser only gripped tighter. Ray shook off the
feeling that Fraser was asking for help. So Dennis was a prima donna. Let
Fraser keep an eye on the Committee. They'd straighten this out at the next
meeting.
“Sure. Makes sense. But
there'll be rumors flying either way. Just thought I'd mention that Fraser
and I will be leaving, ourselves.”
Dennis's head shot up, his
full attention on Ray. “Then you'll understand the care we need to take to
plan the evacuation properly. Constable Fraser is being of great assistance
in our plans. But you can tell the community that we'll be making an
announcement this evening at
Ray nodded and turned to
leave. Fraser still had not released his arm and he paused in surprise.
Covering, Fraser quickly addressed the table: “I have a few things I need to
discuss with Ray. The water pump.” Puzzled, Ray allowed himself to be led
out the front door.
Fraser pushed them both
along until they were well out of earshot of the visitor center's doors. Ray
felt the porch railing press against his back and braced himself against
going over. “What's going on?” he asked his brows rising. “We finished with
the pump last night. Don't tell me it's broken again?” He kept his voice
low.
“No, that's not it.” Fraser
looked back starkly. “But Istas told me that when he stopped by Alain's last
night, he became agitated. Can you check on him this morning? He responds to
you.”
Ray sighed. “Sure, Fraser.
But when are you going to stop trying to do it all? When are you going to
let these people learn to help themselves? Look, they're already on their
way—you've even got another set of busybodies to help out.”
Fraser shook his head, his
face shifting oddly, and for yet another moment Ray felt he didn't know him
at all.
“Fine, fine.” Ray sighed. “I
don't mind checking on Alain. The poor guy's so scrambled he'd make an
omelet look like it had its act together. But those others...” He trailed
off and opened the door. As he turned to close it, he saw Fraser turn and
slowly walk back to the table. his back stiff and unyielding. So Fraser
hadn't told Dennis they were leaving. And who would blame him, he
thought, looking at Dennis waving his arms energetically, cutting off Dunlap
again in mid‑utterance. Prick hadn't even offered Fraser coffee.
Alain was not in his cabin.
Ray walked around the back and headed for the treeline. Alain sometimes hid
in the undergrowth, watching the cabin with a pair of old binoculars. He
said he was lying in ambush for the plague.
Ray stomped loudly a few
times and walked up the deer trail. After all, he didn't want to make the
poor man more paranoid. He heard a soft rustle to his left and turned to
face a large dogwood bush.
“Hello, Alain.” Five years
of partnering with Fraser had eased his embarrassment at addressing trees
and other forms of vegetation.
“Are you clean?” Alain's
voice whispered back. Ray peered again and caught a faint outline against
the dark leaves.
“Yes, and how about you?”
“I've been careful. But I
don't think It's been around for a few days. The woods have been quiet.”
Leaves rustled vigorously and Alain crawled out from under the brush and
onto the narrow trail. Dirt and broken twigs covered the front of his jeans
and sweater. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.
“Well,” Ray said in
greeting. “That's good news. So what's up?”
Alain slipped the binoculars
under his arm and rummaged in his front jeans pockets. “Is it true they're
from the government?” he asked, fishing out a handkerchief.
Ray cocked his head to one
side and watched with fascination as Alain proceeded to form a facemask with
the cloth. The man was clearly a nut. Harmless, but a nut.
“Who?” he asked, watching
Alain struggle to tie the ends of the handkerchief in place.
“The strangers. Istas said
they were from the government.”
“Well, that's what they
say.” Alain raised his head, the mask crookedly in place over his mouth and
nose. He looked like a street person pretending to be Lawrence of Arabia.
His eyes, once clear with intelligence and awareness, now seemed perpetually
clouded and frightened.
“Did you have them wash?”
The mask fluttered as he spoke.
“Yes, Alain, we did.” Ray
looked back down the path impatiently. He really had better things to do.
“But I thought the pump was
broken.” Alain's voice sharpened, drawing Ray's attention.
“Alain, have you been in
town again? I thought we agreed—”
“No, I haven't forgotten.”
Alain shook his head angrily. “I said, Istas told me. I remember what we
agreed.” He fell silent, his eyes brimming with hurt.
Ray sighed and patted him
gently on the arm. “I know. I know. Look, do you need anything?”
“No. Like I said, Istas came
yesterday.”
Ray smiled gently and turned
to go. “Ray,” Alain called, and he stopped to look back. “If something
happens, I am supposed to call you?”
“Right, Alain. Use the flare
and Fraser and I will come.”
Alain adjusted his mask and
coughed. “If I need help...”
“Right. See you. Okay?” He
waited a few seconds, until Alain had raised his hand in acknowledgment, and
headed back to town.
He spent the rest of the day
scanning on the radio, helping Ilene move some firewood, and listening to
the rumors. Everything from “the government will send in relief troops next
month” to “complete evacuation by morning.”
The last bit had been
offered by Larry. Ever since he had “rescued” Dennis in the woods, he'd been
boasting. He spent most of his time glued to
Ray had to admit Dennis's
little group was very efficient. Dennis's second team had arrived on
schedule: a few of them were long time residents of the Territories and had
joined Dennis between
He grabbed a bite at Ilene's
and headed back to the visitor center. This time he angled his way to the
front to get a good view of the proceedings. And to be ready to help Fraser
straighten Dennis out when the time came.
Surveying the crowd, he saw
they had turned out again in full force. He nodded to Makah, Istas's father
and one of the few elders born in the area. He had handled the influx of
survivors into “his” village with grace. But his family held the crucial
votes. Them and Fraser.
He leaned against the wall
and had just started munching when Istas appeared at his elbow. “I found
Alain,” he said and pointed to the front of the room. Alain sat scrunched in
his chair, a heavy coat wrapped over his knees. His eyes darted back and
forth, before settling nervously on Dennis.
Ray sighed and swallowed
more of his sandwich. “Well, tell Nodin to keep an eye on him.”
Istas frowned and shook his
head. “We don't have time for this. We should send him away.”
Ray sharpened his
expression. He knew Istas was tired of babysitting Alain. He had very little
patience with people.
“No,” he replied firmly,
taking another bite of his sandwich. “It takes time to walk him back. And we
can't spare anyone right now. Just keep an eye on him and when we end the
meeting you or Elu can walk him back.” Istas left to whisper Ray's
instructions in Nodin's ear.
Ray settled back into the
wooden folding chair while Dennis rose to his feet. He grinned at Fraser,
who was sitting with the Committee at the front. Fraser had found time to
shave and had put a clean shirt on. Although he nodded briefly back in
greeting, his face was taut and he looked away quickly.
Ray sighed and listened.
“I want to thank you all for
coming,” Dennis began, gesturing to the entire room. “We have a lot of
ground to cover. As I explained last night, this region has been very
fortunate. You have managed to regroup nicely, survived the winter with a
minimum of casualties, and have set aside a very impressive store of
supplies to tide you over next winter. I'd like you to take a moment to
thank the people who made it possible. Will the Committee please rise?”
Applause and a few cheers
rang out. Ray sat in puzzlement. The Committee had only been around for one
day. Most of the real work had been done by other people in the
center—Ilene, Susan, and Istas. Looking around at the beaming faces, he
chalked it down to short-term memory loss and joined in the applause.
“Thank you, thank you. But
now we're ready to proceed to the next phase of recovery. We're moving the
town into
The crowd erupted. Susan
stood and shouted, “Evacuation? You've got to be kidding.” Another voice
called out, “What'll we do for food supplies in
Eventually the crowd
settled. Dennis, without waiting for Fraser, continued. “I know it sounds
like a big step. But once we get to
More murmurs. Dennis
remained at the front of the crowd. Somehow, during the excitement, he had
been flanked by two of his men. Ray's eyes narrowed and he looked over at
Fraser questioningly. Fraser shook his head, so he sat back in his seat.
He's right. Let them talk them this out.
Makah stood and the
murmuring ceased. “Rebuilding from the bones of a diseased civilization.
That is not why we came here. Plague or no plague, why should we go back?”
Danny nodded in agreement,
along with several others. Makah turned and addressed the crowd. “But if any
want to go, we'll be happy to give you supplies and provisions. We welcomed
you into our community and we'll help you as long as we are able. It is—” he
paused and turned back to Dennis, “—the civilized thing to do.”
His ironic tone caused
Dennis to flush red. His mouth tensed and he moved quickly to the front row.
“You all must understand,”
he said, looking aggressively at Makah. He paused, took a breath, and
stepped back. “You must understand,” he continued in a more reasonable tone,
“how important each and every one of you is. You—we—represent the remainder
of our country. All of us will be needed in the rebuilding. Each of you has
skills and talents that our new community will need to survive.”
Makah said nothing and sat
down. A few voices murmured agreement. Scanning to his left, Ray could see
more faces shaking their heads in disagreement. A wave of annoyance flashed
through him. What was wrong with these people? Staying and hiding here was
no answer.
Ilene rose and raised her
hand. Fraser nodded encouragingly. “I think you both have good points. But
why do we all have to move now? Can't we send a small group to
“Yeah,” Susan called out,
“and to clear away all of those dead bodies.”
Silence fell. An unbidden
image of his family flashed though Ray before he refocused on the
discussion.
“...after all, if we do this
in stages we can also pick up more communities along the way.” Ilene was
gaining support, her practicality always an asset to the community.
She looked toward Dennis
expectantly. His face had darkened. He rested his hands on the back of an
empty chair. He raised his head and took a deep breath.
“You don't understand.” The
tautness of his voice quieted the crowd. “There are no communities left.
Yours is the largest gathering we've seen in three months of travel. With
the exception of a few individuals, we—” he gestured to his companions,
“—are the only survivors of the Northwest and
Makah rose again. “Dennis,”
he began. “If what you say is true, then we face a terrible time ahead. The
winters will not be any easier in town. Diseases and contagion may creep
back into our lives like old enemies. Here at least we have a good beginning
and enough stores to last through one more winter. This will give us the
time we need to set up smaller communities. The more we spread, the lighter
the burden on the land. The better the chances of survival. The old paths
will not work again.” He paused and a sad light flooded his eyes. “You are
welcome to join us. And any who wish to leave may do so with our blessing.”
He sat down heavily.
Ray could barely restrain
himself. Bad enough to have to listen to Dennis, but now Makah had to start
with the speeches too. Makah really did look upset, though, and Ray eased up
a bit. It wasn't as if Dennis were ask‑ing them what to do. No, he seemed
well equipped to make the decisions for all of them with no help from anyone
else. God, Ray was surrounded by idiots. He glanced over at Fraser, hoping
to share his resignation, but Fraser was intently focused on crowd control.
His pale skin was flushed, Ray saw; his eyes held a brighter sheen; in the
depths, expression struggled to form.
Dennis raised his voice.
“And will you let
Ilene looked pale and
finally sat down. Danny sat with his head bent forward. Ray touched his arm,
but Danny just shook his head. Glaring, Ray finally stood up and raised his
hand.
“I've heard enough.”
Dennis's rant stopped abruptly. He seemed surprised that anyone was still
willing to disagree. He must have been a joy to work with in
Ray pushed his way through
the crowd and joined Fraser. He pulled him away from the knot of people
gathering and headed for the nearest empty table.
“Fraser, what's going on
here? Why aren't you leading the
Fraser shrugged a little; he
would not let Ray see his eyes. Words failed and he wrestled with them while
Ray watched impatiently.
The room grew hot under the
press of bodies. Sweat trickled under Ray's shirt, cold as ice water. He
sighed and tried again. “Look, Fraser, there's nothing wrong with the core
of Dennis's plan.
Fraser met Ray's gaze then,
his tired eyes holding no bitterness or anger, only an expression of
enduring despair, the look of a man who didn't expect things to ever be good
again. “It's the wrong plan,” he heard Fraser say softly, as if the room
held only the two of them.
Ray puzzled over this for
only a minute before the meaning sank in. “Shit. That's just shit,” he said,
his voice rising. Heads turned and he stepped back from Fraser. He snapped
his mouth shut and stepped further back. It was the same old argument and it
hurt too much to go over it again. Fraser shook his head; his mouth
tightened.
Ray walked stiffly away,
shoving chairs out of his path. To his right he saw Dennis had corralled the
Nelsons and the other two tourists and begun earnestly lobbying for his
plan. Istas and his father worked the other half of the room. He looked back
and saw Fraser moving gently, gracefully, giving out spare, brittle smiles,
mediating between the two groups. The center became thick with voices and
strategies; words and accusations flew back and forth. But beneath it all,
there was a real pain, a fear, unspoken, that nothing would ever be normal,
nothing would ever be right again. The fear could overwhelm, rob you of
reason and humanity. He'd seen it before in
He was glad Fraser waited a
few hours before finding him. The night was cool, but not unpleasant. He sat
on a felled log in the clearing for the new cabin. He had remembered to
bring his rifle, but he wasn't really on patrol. The stars, so thick in the
night sky, had occupied his attention. His mind felt curiously empty, almost
blank.
He did not turn when Fraser
entered the clearing. Staring skyward, he felt the log shift as Fraser
settled next to him.
The night was so still. It
soothed the raw places and masked the pain. He needed its anonymity.
He let his gaze wander
unfocused into the darkness. “It's done, then?”
“Yes. Most have gone home.
Istas is watching the rest who decided to stay and talk.” Fraser's voice
fell velvet soft, mirroring the quiet.
Ray clasped his hands. The
fingertips felt numb and he realized he still gripped his rifle. He
unclenched his grip and angled the rifle down next to him.
“You know—” He paused and
then cleared his throat. “I knew. Right after Carey took his life, I knew.
But somehow...” He took a deep breath, looking down at Fraser's feet, and
paused again. “Well, somehow, I couldn't accept it. Does that make sense?”
He sensed Fraser's nod.
Ray drew breath,
soundlessly, he thought, but Fraser heard even that; Ray felt his regard
like a touch. “Why it took some loony bureaucrat to make it clear, I don't
know. But when he stood there and told us that it was a choice between him
and Fairbanks it all became...real?”
“You know, Ray,” Fraser
replied, “sometimes the big things take time to process. Sometimes you can
only hold on to what you know until you have time to really think.”
“Think? Christ, Fraser, it's
not thinking that's the problem.” Ray kept his eyes on the ground. Even in
the dark, he didn't want to see Fraser's expression.
“What do you mean?” Fraser
leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees. Ray looked over and then
looked away.
He gripped his hands
together. They were still numb.
“What kind of man can't cry
for his own mother? His sister? You tell me that, Fraser.” He blinked, a
searing pain shooting down his side. He gasped for air. Numbness. Yes, his
hands were still numb.
“There are many ways to cry,
Ray. Thirty years later and I still cry for my mother. And my father.”
Fraser stood very still, so still Ray would have not known he was there but
for his voice.
“Yeah, well, with very few
exceptions, Fraser, I am not you.” The pain throbbed. He breathed again and
then again.
Fraser stirred slightly.
“You know, when my mother died it took me years to believe it. I used to
make a cup of cocoa for her in the evening before she went to bed. And for
years afterwards, I would make it every night and leave it out for her.
Every morning I would find it still there, undrunk, and it kept hurting me.
I think it must have killed my father every time he saw it. And one night, I
just didn't do it anymore.”
Ray felt Fraser's arm go
around his shoulder and he trembled under its weight. Relax. Breathe.
It would pass.
Slowly his breathing
steadied. He smelled the damp spruce trees and the raw scent of fresh‑cut
wood. Rubbing his face, he cleared his throat and lifted his head. “The
stars are bright away from the city. Have they always been that way?” His
voice sounded echoey in the night.
Fraser slowly moved his arm
away, reaching down to retrieve Ray's rifle. “Sometimes they're even
brighter. On summer nights they seem so close you can pick them like apples
from the sky.” He stood and moved away. “Coming, Ray?”
Ray glanced over at his
friend and forced a smile. “No, I'd like to...think a bit more. I'll be in
later.”
“Good night, Ray.” He could
almost hear Fraser's thoughts, a high distant keening of wind over a barren
world. And underneath the wind, he caught the undertone of a voice softly
whispering his name, full of fear and anguish. Then he heard Fraser turn for
real and walk away, picking his path among the stones and roots. Amazing how
quiet the night out here could be and how much it could reveal. Or conceal.