Granville said “You can say that again. Take it from me.” He shook his head once for emphasis.
“But what kind of things did he like to do? What made him happy?”
“I never seen him happy, Frost.” But he seemed worried by his own answer. “I mean…”
“What did he like to do?”
Granville thought for a while. “He liked to watch us pickin’ the pods.”
“What else?”
“He liked to hire soldiers to work for him.”
“What else?”
“He liked to get stuff.”
“What kind of stuff.”
“Nice clothes. From before. From the good times. Shirts. Shoes.”
“Anything else?”
“Stuff for his house. Stuff that nobody else has.”
“Like what?”
“Like things from before. From the good times. I don’t know what the names of them are. Food in cans too. Hooch in glass bottles. Wait, I did see him happy a few times.”
“When was that” asked Frost.
“When one of us couldn’t work no more. Whenever one of us laid down in the poppies and couldn’t get up. Then I seen him up by his house, smilin’, sort of.”
“Why would he smile if one of you couldn’t work? I thought he needed you to work to get more skag.”
“Well that’s true too. You can say that again. But what I think, Frost, I think he was happy because he could haul one of us, whoever it was that laid down — he could get that big Freeway and haul the one of us that laid down over into the bush.” Granville’s burst of conversation stopped abruptly.
Frost said “And what happened in the bush?”
Granville blinked anxiously at his feet or at the concrete. He said “Frost, can I… I mean… Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes.”
“Do I have to talk about Langley?”
Frost said “What about Steveston — Stevie? How long has he been at Langley’s place?”
“He was there when I come.”
“When was that? When did you come?”
Granville shrugged, shook his head, shrugged again “Maybe two winters.”
“Is he addicted.”
Granville turned his face to Frost, puzzled. “What does that mean, Frost? I heard that word before.”
Frost sighed. “Never mind, Granville.” It was a clear twilight. A few stars were visible. The fog now lay below in a thick quilt on the length of the river. The guards had a small peat fire in the middle of the roadway. “One more thing.”
“No problem, Frost.”
“What if Langley attacks? What do you think we should do?”
Granville shivered briefly, convulsively. Pieces of rabbit rustled against the inside of the bag. It was as if someone had taken him by the shoulders and shaken him violently for one second.
Frost said “Jesus!”
Granville looked at Frost sternly. His voice was assertive. “Run, Frost” he said. “Just run.”
There must have been a hole in the bottom of the bag. Frost saw that every few steps a drop of blood dripped onto the calf of Granville’s right leg. Frost said “I don’t run.”
Granville shrugged, shook his head once emphatically. “No, that’s right too. I didn’t mean…”
Up ahead the dogs started barking insanely.
Frost said “I wonder if they can smell the blood.”
“You can say that again.”
29
Robson said “Tomorrow the windows will come alive. Even if it’s cloudy. Even if it rains.”
Noor said “I didn’t come to see your coloured windows.”
101 said “She come to see your big bright eyes” and giggled in a choking sort of way, kng kng kng, until Powell, who was also giggling, slapped him on the arm.
It was night, and only occasionally did a panel of one of the tall stained glass windows catch a beam from the fire or the candle flame.
Noor said “Maybe I come to see your big bright eyes, 101” and 101 went silent and stared at his knees while Powell, who was laughing with everyone else, gave 101 a solid punch on the shoulder. Without looking up, 101 struck out and knocked Powell’s ceramic mug of blackberry wine from his hand. The cup smashed on the concrete floor.
Robson said evenly “You owe one cup, Powell.”
“Me!” Powell was stunned. Ice and Spring laughed louder, and 101 joined them eagerly, going ha ha and poking Powell in the arm.
They were sitting near the altar end of a church, in a semicircle of wheeled office chairs. As the revelers gesticulated the chairs swiveled and rolled back and forth. Emptied bowls sat on the floor, around a wax candle as tall and thick as an artillery shell, and a plastic bottle that said Coca Cola, similar in size, a third full of dark wine. The chairs faced a red metal fireplace with a corroded conical top that caught the smoke and funneled it into a stovepipe. It produced little perceptible heat. There was a small pile of split cordwood. Beyond the firelight heaps of various heights as well as undefined shapes were barely visible in the gloom.
Noor said “This is nice, this wine. We should make some instead of potato hooch.”
Ice said “Hooch has got more alcohol.”
101 said “Let’s get at the hooch that Noor brung. I ain’t had hooch in a coon’s age.”
Powell said “Coon’s age? What the hell is that?”
101 said “You’re showin’ your ignorance in front of our guest. You cup buster.”
The two men sat there swiveling their chairs, smirking at each other in a challenging way as their voices echoed in the darkness of the high empty hall.
Robson said “We got all night.”
They were quiet for a while, watching the candle burn. Then Noor said “So, what’s new with the Church Gang?”
Powell said “We got a visit from a farmer girl.”
101 said “She come in search of big bright eyes” and he and Powell giggled again.
Powell said “She brung one sandal. So’s she’ll get invited back to bring the other one.”
The two women, Ice and Spring, and the other man, Hollyburn, joined voices in telling the two jokers to shut up. Spring said to Noor “Don’t pay no attention to them two. They weren’t brung up good.”
None of them except Noor wore homemade. They all, even Spring and Ice, wore pleated dress pants and work shirts. Powell had an olive green sleeveless padded jacket. 101 had a blue plaid cap with fuzzy flaps hiding his ears. Hollyburn had a camel hair overcoat. Robson had an ornate waistcoat whose embroidery caught flickers from the fire. The two women each wore several beaded necklaces over their shirts. They all had shoes abraded down to pale rough leather.
Noor said “I see you’ve all come by leather shoes since I was here last. So there’s no need for sandals.”
Robson said “No, but I could’ve traded them.”
“Can you trade one?”
“There’s a barefoot one-legged woman who’s got a thing made of ropes and wheels, for liftin’.”
Hollyburn said “That there is a broken tickle.”
His contribution was greeted by a roar of laughter that echoed thunderously in the church. As it died down Hollyburn rose from his office chair like a member of parliament and said “It is, god damn it. It’s a broken tickle.”
Ice jumped up and proclaimed “I’ll show you a broken tickle.” Both she and Hollyburn were tall and ungainly. She chased him into the darkness, with Hollyburn going “No, no, no, no!” and trying to fend her off. There was a crash of some object falling, and then Hollyburn going “No, no, please, stop, stop” and laughing helplessly and almost silently.
Robson muttered “That would be our espresso maker that just got knocked over.” He shouted “Hey, you two!”
Hollyburn and Ice shuffled back into the circle of light, with Hollyburn brushing dust from his overcoat and then using a sleeve to wipe a tear from his cheek.