Jessica said “No, and a bunch are doubled up already with Wing’s people and the others who come a while back.”
From somewhere, Brittany’s little girl voice: “You know that, Frost. Get your head on straight.”
There were mutters of annoyance as Amber nudged people aside with her length of rebar and stepped slowly and carefully down to the muddy ground. She said “I’ll go back to my barge.”
Daniel Charlie, standing at the back, taller than the rest, said “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, Amber. Get back up here out of the rain before that walkin’ stick of yours gets any rustier.” Amber looked at Frost, who nodded. She turned and was helped back up the steps.
Wing’s white hair and wisp of beard flashed briefly between bodies at the back of the porch. He said “Most of my crew is up on the bridge, so I guess I have to speak for them. It’s not up to them or me to say if we should take in more people or not, ’cause we’re here on the generosity of you people who took us in when Langley run us off our farm. But if people come to me beggin’ for help I would not turn them away.”
From behind Frost came the loud crack of Tyrell’s voice. “Fine, there, Wing. Let’s go and get rid of Langley and his crew like we should’ve done when all this started. Then you can have your farm back, and you can help as many god damn refugees as you want.”
Frost did not turn, and no voices were raised in support of Tyrell.
A few more residents straggled out the door, scratching themselves and muttering about the noise and blinking their way out of sleep.
Old Ryan said “There’s room on my floor.”
Someone else said “Mine too.”
Frost turned to old Christopher. His sparse white hair and beard hung in wet tangles to his waist. But the rain had not washed away his rank and belligerent odour. He was very skinny. He looked at Frost defiantly with his head thrown back and his eyes wide and said “You ain’t gettin’ me into no god damn domicile. I just come to get my squash. You said you was bringin’ me some squash. And I could use some spuds. How come you didn’t bring no more spuds? What the hell’s wrong with you, Frost? And you said you was going to bring me a fire lighter. I been waitin’ all this time to cook them eggs you brung.”
Among the residents there was a giggle or two.
Frost said “You don’t have to stay in the domicile. You can sleep in the clinic.”
“Oh, no way, Frost.” Christopher shook his head wildly and stepped back, out of grabbing distance. “You ain’t getting’ me into no god damn clinic. Just give me my vegetables and my fire lighter and I’ll be on my way. And maybe you’ve got a dog to spare. You got a dog?”
There was a guffaw from the residents.
Frost said “You can go back if you want. But if you want me to feed you you’ve got to stay here. Make up your mind.”
Christopher turned one way, then another, as if he were looking for a way to run.
Daniel Charlie spoke up. “Christopher, calm down. It ain’t the end of the world. You can sleep in the workshop.” He came forward, down the steps and out beside Frost. He said to Christopher “But you got to wash first.” There was more laughter. When it died Daniel Charlie said to the gathering “It’s time we used up some of those concrete blocks and that bag-and-a-half of cement powder and some of those two-by-fours. We’ll build somethin’. We’ll put roofs over heads. For now we can sleep three in a room in the domicile. Four. Whatever. It’ll just be temporary.”
But then Tyrell spoke again. “What are we going to eat, Daniel? Already we don’t have enough to last till next harvest. We can’t afford to kill any more cows, and the meat don’t go far anyways. It’s like this… Frost, are you listenin’! It’s like this — if we try to feed everyone, we’re all going to starve. It’s a bitch, but that’s the way it is. And you know it, Frost. It’s time to stop pretendin’. Me and my men ain’t sleepin’ in the rain up on that bridge and waitin’ for a crossbow arrow in the gizzard just so’s we can starve along with everybody else.”
Wing shouted “My men are up there too, Tyrell. These are men who’ve had their women and daughters took away. And I know they would never turn back anyone who asks for help. Food or no food.”
Tyrell shot back “Well, come up and spend a night with your men in the freezin’ rain. Then you might find out you don’t know shit.”
Now from among the residents came a volley of declarations and objections.
“He’s right, Frost. Them spuds won’t go far.”
“Don’t be so god damn selfish.”
“Tell me that when we’ve all starved to death.”
“What kind of world are we tryin’ to build here!”
“Go put the soup on. We got hungry people here.”
Frost looked on worriedly. But there were no blows except when Amber got upset by all the shouting and took a whack at Kingsway with her rebar.
“Ow! You bloody old fool!”
Jessica guided Amber back into the domicile, and soon there was silence again, with the refugees and the residents regarding each other through the few feet of rain. Even the addicts had looked up to see whether they were finally to be sheltered or turned away.
Frost said “You’ve all got to wash. But first come into my place and get warm. And we’ll get you something to eat.”
Some people came down from the steps to welcome the newcomers. Others spat and turned away.
Daniel Charlie and Wing walked side by side toward the ranked piles of lumber. Daniel Charlie said “You ever build anythin’?”
Wing answered “I built a lot of castles in the air.”
“Well, that`s a start. I hope you saved the plans.”
Tyrell walked back toward the bridge, with his spear on his shoulder.
Most of the residents and all of the refugees had filed through the door of the domicile, even old Christopher and the two skag addicts. Frost and Will stood behind on the bottom step like shepherds guiding a flock. Brittany waited near the door for the crowd to clear, calling “Go on, go on, you bunch of roughnecks. You tryin’ to crush me, or what?”
Grace materialized from the darkness beyond the doorway. She stepped out into the dismal dawn light and stood there, head hanging. Frost looked worried — she was so drawn, so faded. She lifted her head and tried to say something, but had to clear her throat and try again. “Joshua’s room is free now.”
Brittany was furious. “No it ain’t! He’s in there! He’s sick and he needs to stay there!”
Frost said “Joshua’s dead, Brittany.”
Brittany started wailing. She ran down the steps and off into the rain, shaking her fists, screaming.
Frost stepped up onto the porch. “I’ll bring him down.”
Will said “I’ll help you, Grampa.”
Grace said “I’ll help too.”
Frost said “No, I’ll do it myself. Will, can you find a shovel?”
31
Frost stood facing the stairwell doorway, holding in his arms the limp corpse of Joshua, which was wrapped for most of its length in a rabbit skin poncho. Joshua’s head hung sharply back. His eyes were closed, but his mouth was half open. The arm that was not constrained against Frost’s chest hung down at an angle, as if Joshua were reaching to open the stairwell door, which was not there. Here in the corridor there was more daylight than before. But ahead in the stairwell Frost saw only blackness. A steady current of frigid air streamed out of that blackness and over his feet.