“I know. I saw him heading over to Fundy’s with the others.”
“I guess Joshua can move back in. Did you see where he got to?”
Frost did not remind her that Joshua was dead.
“I liked it the way it was, Frost. We were a family, all of us here. We worked, we ate good, we talked.”
“We’re talking now.”
“I know. Thanks for comin’ to talk to me, Frost. It’s good to talk. Jeff is going to come and visit me soon.” She picked up the framed portrait, showed it to Frost, kissed the image, set it back.
Frost said “Spring’s not that far off. We’ll plant spuds. Times will be good again.”
“You promise, Frost?”
“I promise.”
“Kill them bastards.”
He nodded, turned to leave.
“Frost.”
He waited. There was a word on her cap. Canucks.
She said “You look different.”
He went out and let the plastic curtain fall behind him and picked up the bucket.
“You look mean.”
Frost went up a floor. He heard voices in a room and set the bucket down and went in. Kingsway and his woman Night and old Ryan were lounging on the mattress. Like Brittany they wore factory-made clothes from the garbage bags of the Church Gang. Brandon stood apart, with his bottle.
Frost said “You all right?”
Kingsway and Ryan nodded, but Night started crying quietly. Kingsway stroked her hair.
Frost said “Kingsway, I want you to go up on Fundy’s Bridge this afternoon. You’ll stay there overnight with some of the others. I’m trying to work out shifts. You’ll get a spear and a bow. You’ve got a sword?”
Kingsway nodded.
Brandon said “I can do guard duty. Send me up, Frost. You ought to see me fight. I can fight like a son of a bitch.” With the hand not holding the bottle he punched the air. His clotted and soiled white hair hung over his shoulders. His nose was swollen and purple. He gave off a heavy smell. He swayed slightly as he scowled at Frost. When Frost did not reply he took a drink. Over his torn wool shift he wore a woman’s black cardigan. The sleeves reached six inches past his elbows.
As Frost left, Brandon called “You ain’t as big as you think.”
Frost picked up the bucket and went up another floor. In the corridor he set the bucket down and rested for a minute. Then he picked it up again and went along the corridor. In a room someone was coughing. He elbowed the plastic aside and went into this room. The air had a dense animal sweetness to it, a bad smell. Frost set the bucket of water in the bathroom. He tied back the plastic over the door with a length of twine that was tied to a nail.
The man in the bed coughed weakly for a few seconds. His thick black hair was cut short. He had no beard. Stubble covered sunken cheeks. Frost bent and took a rag that lay by the man’s head and wiped a fleck of sputum from the corner of his lips.
Frost said “You all right, Dunbar?”
The man said in a low wheeze “Am I all right. What a question.” He managed a slight smile. He said “Don’t let them take the farm.”
“No one’s taking the farm.’
“I wish I could help.”
“You’ve helped enough. There’s no one who’s helped more than you.” Frost took the man’s hand and lifted it and turned it so the man could see the palm. “Look at this skin.” The palm was brown, and dirt was ground deep into the hardened skin. “This is the farm.” Frost ran his finger across the calluses. He laid the hand back on the rabbit skins. “You just rest. And don’t worry. Is there anything else you need?”
Dunbar shook his head.
Frost left and continued down the corridor. Behind him Dunbar resumed his coughing. Frost passed a room where there was a low muttering. He passed a room where a man wept. He went into the room at the end of the corridor.
The two addicts lay curled up head to head on the mattress. They each were covered by a poncho, but below these coverings a ragged fringe of polyethylene was visible. Although it was a cold day there was a film of sweat on the faces of both the woman and the man.
Granville was crouching in the middle of the room. He stood when Frost entered. He said “The worst part is over.”
Frost said “You’re a hard man to find.”
“Sorry, there, Frost. I been here. And I been on the bridge. And I been takin’ rabbits to the dogs.” He smiled his ingratiating smile of five rotted teeth. When Frost continued to look at him sternly he said “I mean, that’s true too. I’m hard to find. You can say that again.” He shrugged, gave a fragment of a laugh, waited.
“Someone stole our skag.”
The addicts lifted their heads and looked at Frost. Granville said to them “The worst part is over.” He said to Frost. “Who done that, Frost?”
“You’re still using it, aren’t you?”
“Skag? Oh, no, Frost. I’m a citizen. Like you said.” Granville stepped past Frost and left the room, saying “Tyrell wants me on the bridge. I mean, if that’s okay. Is that okay, Frost?” He went quickly down the corridor.
Frost followed. He said “It was gone from the clinic. We had people who needed it. We have people who need it now.”
Granville started down the stairs. Frost followed.
“You think I don’t know you took it?”
“No, Frost… I mean… What?”
Their voices echoed in the dark stairwell.
“There’s no lock on the clinic.”
“You should get a lock, Frost. Ask Langley. He’s got some. No… I mean….”
“The dogs know you. They wouldn’t bark.”
“They know me. I’m Granville the food guy. They bark a lot, though. You can say that again. I mean, sometimes. But no, that’s right too… What you said.”
At the bottom Frost watched him hurriedly leave the domicile. Then Frost went into his own apartment. Will lay curled up under the window on his narrow plastic-covered mattress. He was wearing blue jeans and a grey sweatshirt with a picture of Mickey Mouse. His thumb was in his mouth. The enormous red candle rested nearby on the floor. It was burning. Principles of War lay closed beside it. The hammock had been taken down. In its place the wheeled office chair sat in front of the fireplace.
Will took the thumb out and sat up and said “Do you want me to help out on one of the bridges?”
“Not right now, Will. I’m keeping you in reserve. Have you been out today?”
“Yes. I was studyin’ the terrain.”
“Studying the terrain.”
Will nodded.
“From now on I don’t want you to go out without telling me or Noor or Daniel or Jessica. Did you see Grace?”
“She’s at Fundy’s, helpin’ the… helpin’ the people who…”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Have you eaten today?”
Will did not answer.
“You better eat.”
“Grampa?”
“Yes?”
“You don’t sigh anymore.”
“Don’t I? I guess I’m through with sighing.”
“Grampa?”
“Yes?”
“It’s lonely without the dogs here. Could we keep one here? Could we keep King?”
“I’ve been thinking about keeping one here anyway, to guard the domicile. I’ll bring King down.”
Frost found his sword and his spear and left the apartment. But a man was waiting outside his door. The man was tall and broad shouldered and stood with a slouch. He was scraggle-bearded, bareheaded, bald and dull-eyed. He thrust his face forward like a turtle’s. He had a nylon backpack and a rubberized rain slicker and a rabbit skin kilt but was barefoot. A shit-brindle wire-haired pug-nosed mutt the size of a rabbit jumped up against Frost’s leg, yapping until Frost scooped it up. It then tried desperately to lick Frost’s face, but Frost tilted his face away.