“He was panicking!” Dan raised his voice, standing in front of them. “His diiyosh was on fire, and he needed to put it out! But he was too far from the water just to jump in, so he ran and jumped bum-first onto the rocks and slid down. He kept sliding down the rocks on his diiyosh until the fire was out. He kept going until all the burnt skin came off his diiyosh.”
He paused and sat back down. “So you know all those green things you see on rocks in the summertime? Some are like little plants. Some just look like skin on the rock.”
The children both nodded.
“That’s from Nanabush’s burnt bum. When he slid down the rocks, it left all that behind. Some people call that green stuff ‘moss’ and ‘lichen.’”
Evan spoke up behind them. “Neat, eh? Can you think of any other important lessons in that story?”
“I know! I know!” said Maiingan, shooting up his hand.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t be greedy!”
“Don’t be greedy!” Nangohns echoed.
“That’s right,” Evan said. “And always be ready for winter.”
Twenty-Six
The volunteers gathered again at the shop to prepare for another food handout. The morning was again crisp and frigid, exacerbating the gnawing hunger in the guts of the people who woke up at sunrise to beat the rush before the usual long line formed.
“We gotta keep an eye on a few of them,” said Tyler, alluding to some people who had become unruly the week before and some who were suspected of hoarding supplies from others, especially the elderly. They’d speculated whether Scott was intimidating people into handing over food or trading it for the few drops of contraband booze that remained.
“So what are we eating this week?” asked Evan.
Terry leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stringy beard. He tilted his chair forward to look at a sheet of scrawled notes, the makeshift inventory of the food supplies. “Uhhh… chilli.”
“Chilli it is,” said Tyler. He turned to Evan and gave him a friendly slap in the gut. “Let’s go.”
They marched into the back of the machine shop. Except for Isaiah tending the fire in the furnace, the room was dark. Their breath still plumed in the cold, and the air was heavy with the smell of machine grease. They shone small plastic flashlights onto the stacks of boxes piled to the right and the beams danced across the scattered stacks of supplies that had dwindled considerably. Evan’s flashlight located the boxes at the far end of the wall labelled Chilli, and they began the task of hauling them back to the front room and stacking them in front of Terry, who was still peering at the inventory sheet in the faint morning light.
The place gradually warmed up with Isaiah’s tending. After next week’s ration day, they’d have to get more wood. They estimated they’d have about eight more ration days before the snow melted and people could turn their attention to planting gardens and foraging the wild spring plants. The cache would not last forever, and they had to produce the next season’s food.
“There’s only one box left,” said Tyler.
“Just one?” asked Evan, a couple of steps behind him.
“Yeah, I can’t see any more lying around.”
“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.