While avoiding the mutt’s tongue Frost said “Hemlock.”
“Hullo Frost.”
Frost shook the man’s hand and led him into the apartment. He said “Are you hungry?”
“I’m starved to death. So’s Margaret.” He had a five-foot length of rusty rebar, which he leaned against the wall.
Frost said “Hemlock the Messenger is here.”
Margaret squirmed out of Frost’s arms and raced to Will and gave him a dozen licks before he could cover his face.
Hemlock set the backpack down and said “Help me out of this, Will.”
Will helped slide the rain slicker over Hemlock’s head. Underneath he had a faded and patched blue plaid logger’s shirt. His odour now spread through the apartment. It was the odour of a large mammal, bear odour.
Frost indicated the office chair. “Sit here, Hemlock.”
He sat, said “This here’s one of them there orifice chairs. ” He swiveled and wheeled it a little. “The Church Gang give it to you?”
“That’s right.”
“I seen these before. They haul them out of them there orifices they’re always gettin’ into.”
Frost got three bowls and three spoons and a ladle. He opened the doors of the fireplace and ladled soup from the big pot. He gave the first bowl to Hemlock. He gave the next one to Will, and Will sat again on his mattress. Frost set the last bowl at Hemlock’s feet.
Frost waited while they ate. Hemlock said “Can yous spare a little more?” Frost refilled his bowl.
Margaret sniffed at her bowl every few seconds. Her master was halfway through his second bowl before she ventured a grab at the hot soup. She swallowed the single piece of beef first. Then she snatched out the chunks of potato. She waited for a minute with her face in the bowl. Then, first tentatively and then furiously, she licked up the broth. She left the carrots and the onions.
Frost sat against the window sill and waited.
When Hemlock had finished his soup he set the bowl on the floor. Margaret inspected it thoroughly, gave it three or four licks and then curled up at her master’s bare feet.
Frost said “I suppose Langley sent you with a message.”
“Nope. I ain’t carryin’ no more messages for Langley. I ain’t goin’ near him. I’m ascared of that son of a bitch.” He had a loud baritone voice. His words were slow and dolorous.
“Well, you’re right to be. Did you know he killed Fundy and eleven of his people?”
“Yep. And all but one of his dogs. And I know he killed all Wing’s milk cows for meat. And I know he’s got Wing’s women. And I know you give him a bad whippin’.” Pools of saliva had collected at the corners of his lips.
Frost said “You’d better stay out of Town, Hemlock. Don’t go over the bridges. Noor ran into Langley the other night just the other side of my bridge. She’s lucky he let her go.”
“I know. And you’re lucky he didn’t make sisterbobs out of that there workhorse.”
“Sisterbobs.”
“You ain’t never heard of sisterbobs? That’s what they used to call meat on a stick. Anyways, maybe the Park Crew will take me into town on their boat. But I doubt if they’ll want to come out this way anymore. They’ll be ascared too. They’ll want to stay away from Langley. And Fundy won’t be tradin’ with them anymore. And you never did.”
“We ought to leave the trees standing. The ones that are left.”
“Anyways, Frost, I got two messages for yous. Here’s the first one. We are five good lookin’ women in a brick house and a third of an acre of good ground close to Salt Creek. We are healthy and can still have kids. We are nice women and wouldn’t never scream at our men. We are lookin’ for five good men that won’t whip us. All’s they got to do is get here. We was going to come to Frost’s Farm, but now we’re ascared to.”
The pools at the corners of Hemlock’s lips had overflowed into his beard.
Frost said “I’ll tell my men. But no one’s going to be leaving the farm for a while. Any other messages?” Frost’s tone was courteous but businesslike.
“No, just the one.”
“Will you deliver a message for me?”
“Tell me.” Hemlock closed his eyes and listened.
“It’s for BC out at the Parts Gang. Tell him I need a truck flywheel for the water wheel. Tell him I also want an alternator.”
Hemlock opened his eyes. “What’s a alternator?”
“It’s for making electricity.”
“You plannin’ to make electricity? There ain’t been electricity since I was a boy.”
“And tell him I’ll pick up Wing’s wagon when the weather is better.”
“You want a truck flywheel. You want a alternator. You’ll pick up Wing’s wagon when the weather gets better.”
“That’s right. Now, why don’t you stay over? We’ve got some empty rooms. It’s pretty mean looking out there. It could hail.”
“I got to be goin’, Frost. I got to walk.” Margaret scrambled to her feet, suddenly alert.
Frost said “I know. I thought I’d ask anyway. We’ll get some vegetables and eggs and salt meat together for you. Will, go and see if you can find Jessica.”
Will went out.
Hemlock stood. He said “There’s one more thing. Two more. It’s good Will went out. It’s easier to tell this without him here. They’re not messages, they’re news. Well, one of them’s news. Bailey got wiped out.”
“What! Bailey at the sheep farm?”
“It wasn’t Langley. It was addicts. I seen two of them dead. And I seen Bailey dead and all of his people. Dogs too. It must’ve been a slew of addicts. They took some of his sheep and killed the rest. Ate them, looks like. Raw I guess. They could’ve used Bailey’s fire maker, but I guess they was too hungry. There was a lot of guts and bones around.”
“Jesus Christ.” Frost slumped into the office chair.
“Frost?”
It took Frost a long time to look up. When he did it was with an expression of mortal weariness.
“Frost, I been thinkin’. I known you a long time.” Hemlock seemed to run out of steam. He looked away from Frost’s troubled face, exhaled heavily, wiped the spit from his chin.
Frost waited.
“I mean, I ain’t gettin’ no younger. You know what I’m talkin’ about, Frost?” He looked hopefully at his host, but Frost had no encouragement to offer. “I mean… What I’m tryin’… What I want to ask you is… is this. Noor’s all growed up now. She ought to be lookin’ for a man.” He nodded happily, relieved. Took a deep breath. Waited for a reply. Margaret wagged her tail.
Frost stared blankly at Hemlock. He did not take his eyes from him. The bear odour in the room grew denser. Frost said quietly “Jesus Christ, Hemlock, you don’t even have a house.”
“I got lots of places where I sleep. Me and Margaret.”
“You don’t have any possessions.”
Hemlock gestured toward his backpack on the floor. “I got a fire maker. I got a pot. Want to see them?”
Frost said “Noor’s already got a man. Robson at the Church Gang.”
Hemlock looked wounded, pierced. His baritone turned high pitched, which caused Margaret to look at him curiously. “I didn’t know that.”
“I thought you knew everything.”
“I do” he squeaked. “But I didn’t know that.”
Frost rose with effort from the chair. “Go ahead and ask her. She’s a free person. Jessica will bring your stuff if Will’s managed to find her. Just wait here.”
Without a glance Frost went past Hemlock and out of the apartment and the domicile. The day was dark and it had started to hail. He walked across to the clinic. There was no dog tied there. Inside, almost everything was gone, even the sheet from the couch. Grace had taken it all to Fundy’s. Just the bags of dried leaves remained on a shelf, and on another shelf the brittle pages and the meagre scraps of medical books. He sat on the couch for a while, thinking. Soon the hail was a roar on the roof. He went to the open door and looked out.