A Nuclear Tale
Finally, the rain had come in late August, in answer to
everyone’s prayers, and just in time. It had been such a long, dry summer that
all the farmers feared that the rice and sugarcane fields would be so badly
stunted that if there was one more rainless week, they would have to burn the
fields and hope for a fall crop of buckwheat – if enough rain came after the
burning. Now it looked like there would be a harvest after all, although a
meagre one.
Carrie stepped out of her family’s cabin and relished the
feel of the soft, warm rain soaking her hair and face and clothes. She could
stand out there all day – if her mother permitted it.
“Carrie!” came the familiar, stern, voice of her mother,
Agnes, “what do you think you are doing out there? This isn’t the time for
lazing about in the rain. Hurry and bring the cows home before the crick floods
the back fields!”
Heaving a sigh of exasperation, Carrie headed down the
footpath to Wilson Creek to bring the two Jersey cows home. But she hardly had
to: the cows were already walking back by themselves. They knew well enough
that heavy rains would soon flood the only green pasture left on the property.
How Carrie hated those cows, along with the fields and the split-rail fences
and the barn and the cabin. How she hated her life of dreary toil all 19 years
of her life.
But Carrie stopped herself. “Count your blessings, girl,”
she said to herself, reciting what her mother always said to her, but she knew
it was true, “think of all those starving ‘Mericans dying while trying to cross
the Niagara River or cross Lake Ontario in their home-made rafts, and those few
who make it across bringing with them nothing but empty bellies crying to be
filled. At least you have a roof over your head and some decent land to farm.”
Her mother was right, of course. She was always right. People still talk about
the ‘Great Hunger of 2101’ when the Canadian Army destroyed all bridges to the
USA because the flood of starving refugees was more than Ontario could handle.
Still, two years later, desperate refugee families regularly show up in nearby
Havelock hoping that the village will tolerate their presence and relieve them
of hunger even for a short while. But, of course, two years can make a big
difference. Now there is no more USA; now there is no more Canada. With the
Great Hunger came the Great Riots. Horrific stories about the streets of New
York and Washington and Chicago and Toronto and Ottawa running red with
rioters’ and rival gangs’ blood as well as the blood of many assassinated politicians.
Far better to be safe out in the country where ‘boring as Hell’ is actually a
good thing, especially if you are lucky enough to have a farm.
Carrie hurried back home. She knew Mother would be
impatiently waiting for her to help dress the chicken and peel potatoes for
dinner.
-------
After dinner, the rain stopped, but the clouds were still
low and dark. Carrie’s friend, Sushmita, showed up at the doorstep and
encouraged Carrie to go walking with her. Mother was in a good mood by this
time, with a full stomach and relieved that the rains will save the rice
fields, so she let Carrie go under the condition that she returned by sunset.
Sushmita and Carrie had been friends for as long as they
could remember. Sushmita’s grandparents had been among the last Indian
immigrants to the region, and when the climate changed dramatically hotter in
the 2060s, her grandparents taught the local farmers how to grow rice and sugar
cane and mango trees. The region had prospered greatly as a result.
Consequently, Sushmita’s grandfather had been elected Mayor of Havelock and
upon his death, her father had been elected Mayor and had now continuously held
that position for 15 years.
Sushmita liked to give Carrie treats that only the Mayor and
the richest people in the region could afford – like maple sugar. Carrie appreciated
that. But more importantly, Carrie appreciated Sushmita’s sense of adventure.
Their favourite ‘forbidden’ activity was to visit Blake, the local hermit, who
lived in a shack in the woods to the north. Sushmita’s father said that Blake
was labelled ‘bad’ by the local doctors because he was bad for their business. Blake
had been living in the woods as long as anyone could remember, and it was
commonly believed that he must be over 90 years old.
The two girls liked Blake
because of the strange stories he would tell about the ‘old days’ when people
drove cars and flew in airplanes, and how he could predict the future by use of
geomancy. People would secretly visit Blake for him to locate lost items or
identify a thief and predict the year’s harvest. But Carrie and Sushmita asked
Blake about prospective boyfriends, when they would marry and how many children
they would have.
Carrie and Sushmita walked to a big rope-and-tire swing that
hung from the limb of a large oak tree in the back of Carrie’s field. They took
turns pushing each other on the swing and recalled some of Blake’s stories
about life when every farm had electricity and a diesel-powered tractor, and
how Blake had surprisingly told Carrie that her next boyfriend would be a ‘dangerous
stranger’. They parted at sundown and promised to meet again the day after
tomorrow.
------
One evening about a week later, Carrie was walking with
Sushmita alongside Wilson Creek about two kilometers upstream from her home,
when they saw what looked like a heap of dirty clothes on the opposite bank
about one metre from the water. A goat was grazing the shrubs near the clothes.
‘What are clothes doing here?” enquired Carrie, turning to
Sushmita in wonder, “there’s nothing upstream here but the woods – and nobody
lives there except Blake. And these are definitely not Blake’s clothes! Look,
under all that mud, they are an ugly yellow colour.”
Sensing an adventure, the two girls edged closer to the
heap. Now they were directly opposite it. The creek was about three metres wide
at this point. “If you look closely”, observed Sushmita, “the clothes are
almost the shape of a man curled up on his side. See – there’s the torso, and the
legs, and… oh my God, I think I see a head!” Carrie followed Sushmita’s guiding
and confirmed what Sushmita said. Both girls screamed simultaneously out of
fright. There was nobody near to hear them.
“I had hoped to never see another dead man on Wilson Creek,
but now I have. Let’s go!” stated Carrie as soon as she regained her senses
enough to talk. She took Sushmita’s hand in hers and pulled her away from the
scene.
But Sushmita dug in her heels. “Well, if he’s dead, then he
can’t harm us, can he?” retorted Sushmita in a surprisingly brave voice. Both
girls had seen dead people before: small children in the wake of measles and scarlet
fever outbreaks, women who died during childbirth, and the large number of adults
in their prime (including Carrie’s father and Sushmita’s mother) during the
Great Flu of 2094 – and worst of all, the corpses of the American refugees in
2101 and the starving thousands who fled Toronto when the power stopped and
never came back in 2097. The last thing they ever wanted to see for the rest of
their lives was another corpse.
As the rush of shock subsided, Carrie calmed down and then
curiosity returned to her. “What should we do now?” she asked her friend.
“Let’s just take a closer look, so that I can tell Father”,
said Sushmita. “He needs to know these things and then he can call the
Sherriff.” Carrie nodded in mute agreement, still a bit jittery.
They left their canvas shoes on the bank of the river and
waded in the tepid water up to their thighs. The lower parts of their
knee-length hemp dresses soon soaked up the water. A moment later they were standing on the far
bank, looking down on a wretched-looking, bedraggled young man. His dark hair
was cropped very short, with bald patches, and he had a sparse beard of the
same length. He was thin but muscular. His feet were bare. But the thing that
attracted the girls’ attention the most was the blotched look of the skin on
his face and arms.
Suddenly, the man moaned. The two girls jumped in surprise.
“Holy shit, Sushmita, he’s alive. What are we going to do
now? We can’t just leave him here. The coyotes will get him for sure
overnight.”
“We can’t carry him and besides the road is at least 500
metres from here. We need to get help.”
“Hey, here’s an idea”, Carrie pondered, “my brother Seth
should be coming home from the market along the road soon. Seth’s as strong as
an ox; he can carry this guy easily. And he’ll have a waggon with him.”
Carrie walked along the creek up to the road where a small
wooden bridge crossed over and waited there for about ten minutes. Soon Seth
arrived in a two-wheeled waggon drawn by a horse.
“Seth, I need you to park the waggon here and come with me
down the crick. I’ve found a man there and he seems to be wounded or badly hurt
or something, and there’s nobody else to help.”
“And then what are we supposed to do with him, little
sister? Take him home? Can’t take him to a doctor ‘cause we can’t afford one.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, Seth. What if we take him to
Blake? That way nobody else gets involved and nobody even needs to know! Blake
likes me and he seems to know a lot about healing people.”
“That crazy old coot? How many times have we told you not to
go to Blake? The guy gives me the creeps. People say he consorts with the
Devil!” And with that, Seth gave the slack reins a flick and the horse started
to walk.
“Now hold on, Seth. Just ‘cause you don’t like Blake doesn’t
mean that we can just leave a man out here to die. Do you have any better
ideas?”
“Nope. But I have a right mind to go straight home and tell
Mother what you are up to. What are you doing sneaking around Wilson Creek
anyway? Up to no good with your darkie friend, most likely.”
“Hey, leave Sushmita out of this. And it’s really none of
your business!” Carrie did not like where this conversation was headed and was
getting frustrated with her dull-witted older brother.
“OK, Seth, I’ll tell you what. You do what I ask, and I
won’t tell Mother about you and Jenny.”
“Damn! How did you know? Sneaking around the barn again, are
you?”
“Never mind how I know, Seth. Are you going to help me and
do the right thing, or are you going to live in the barn and eat nothing but
oats for the next month once Mother finds out?”
Verbally defeated, Seth stopped the horse and got down from
the waggon. “Take me to this man you found – and quick – before we get home
late and then there will be Hell to pay.”
------
Seth gently lifted the stranger, draped him over his
shoulder and walked back towards the waggon. The two girls followed behind.
Once on the flat bed of the waggon, each girl sat on one side of the stranger –
Carrie to the right and Sushmita to the left – and Seth drove the waggon down
the dirt trail that led to the woods. At the crest of a hill they were
surrounded by the towering colossuses of forty wind turbines – all silent and still.
Most had their triple-blades burned and broken. Two of them had toppled to the
ground.
Looking up at these relics of a bygone era, Sushmita said,
“Father tells me that these were once windmills used to power Peterborough and
Trenton and other cities, but they all burned because the engineers could not
maintain them.”
“Your father sure likes to tell tall tales, Sush”,
interjected Seth. “how do you think people could make things this big? Look at
those blades, they are at least fifteen metres long. And the towers are forty
metres tall. And how many tonnes these things weigh! Anybody who has sense
knows that the Giants built them. Even Reverend McPhee says so! Do you think
you are smarter than a minister?”
“Well, what about the topless towers of Toronto? My dad says
the buildings there are 600 metres tall and on days that the clouds are low,
you can only see half-way up them!”
“More tall tales!” replied Seth, now laughing.
“I’ll have you know my father went there when he was a boy
and saw them with his own eyes.”
“Have you seen
them, Sush? Have you? I didn’t think so. All tall tales and damned lies.”
“Fine for you to say, country boy! You’ve never even been as
far as Peterborough!” retorted Sushmita, now in a fury for Seth calling her
well-respected father a liar.
“Stop it you two, please!” hollered Carrie now fed up with
their bickering. “Sushmita, you know my brother likes to pull your strings.
Don’t let him do it. If you had an elder brother you’d know better.”
The heated discussion between Sushmita and Seth roused the
stranger who, until now, was silent and apparently sleeping. “Don’t take me
back… please!” he said faintly in a cracking, raspy voice and with tears in the
outside corners of his eyes, “they’ll kill me!”
The three youths looked at each other with shocked looks on
their faces. They fell silent.
“Nobody’s killing anybody today, and I’ll see to that!”
swore Seth in the voice of a young man supremely confident in his physical
strength and willpower. The girls were in awe, having never heard him speak
like that before.
------
A few moments later, the waggon reached the end of the dirt
road about 100 metres into the wood. Seth stopped the waggon and knelt down by
the stranger. “Don’t worry, we are taking you to a healer. We won’t tell a
soul. You’ll be safe here,” Seth assured him.
About 200 yards further into the woods stood Blake’s shack.
As usual, he was sitting on his favourite boulder, but this time he was looking
South, straight at them. Then he said something that unsettled all three
youths: “So, the danger has come. I’ve been waiting for him all day. Kindly
take him into the shack and I shall attend to him. I know it is getting late,
so if you must leave right away, please do.”
The three briefly thanked Blake and headed back to the
waggon and home. They were very quiet on the road. “I told you he’s a crazy old
coot, sis. Did you hear what he said – dangerous? Who else would be willing to
tend to a stranger especially if they are dangerous? You’ve got yourself into a
pretty pickle, sister, mark my words!” Carrie and Sushmita kept their mouths
shut thinking over and over again how Blake’s prediction was coming true.
-------
The next day, Carrie stayed at home carrying out the usual
burden of farm and household chores. She thought of Sushmita – how lucky she is
being able to live in the village and even go to school. But she also thought
how lucky she is to have Sushmita as a friend because she could read and write
thanks to Sushmita’s coaching. But most of the time her thoughts were on the ‘dangerous
stranger’. What danger was he in? Who would kill him? And why? He did not have
the crazed look of a starving man or the menacing look of a gangster (she saw
one up close once: he tried to rape her until her brother jumped him and broke
the guy’s neck). But she knew that if Blake says that there is danger
associated with the stranger, she should better believe it. She stayed at home
for a whole week out of fear, leaving only on Saturday for the market in
Havelock. Sushmita paid her a few visits during the week and told Carrie in
hushed tones that twice during that week, people in the area had seen uniformed
military police officers patrolling the area but had not spoken to any locals. Carrie
got chills when she heard this news.
On the
seventh night, Carrie had a dream. But it was more vivid than any dream she had
ever had before. In fact, it seemed to be more vivid than anything she had
experienced before in life. And she clearly remembered every single detail when
she awoke.
In the
dream, she was standing with the stranger from the creek. They were holding
hands. She felt safe and secure and somehow ‘complete’ in his presence. They
were looking at a big, strange lake. The other side was visible but a great
distance away, perhaps 4 kilometers. But when she looked to the right and to
the left, the shore receded as far as the eye could see. And the lake had tall
grass growing out of it. The wind was gently playing with her chestnut-coloured
hair and the air had strange but pleasant smell that was totally unfamiliar to
her. She and the stranger looked into each other’s eyes and smiled. Then she
heard mature woman’s voice say, “this is
your home.” And she woke up with a start.
------
The next day, Carrie felt compelled to visit Blake. In the
evening, she and Sushmita walked to Blake’s cabin and saw the stranger sitting
on Blake’s favourite boulder, with Blake standing, apparently doing something
with the stranger’s eye.
“Hello, Mr. Blake,” both girls said simultaneously when they
were about ten metres from the boulder.
“Oh, hello girls. I’ve been expecting
you, and so has our guest. I hope you are both well?”
“Yes,” they both replied, “and you?” enquired Sushmita.
“Can’t complain, my dear,” replied Blake.
“How is the guest?” enquired Carrie, “does he have a name?”
“Indeed, he does. But he can speak for himself,” answered
Blake.
Thereupon the stranger introduced himself as Harold. He
thanked Carrie and Sushmita for rescuing him from the bank of the creek.
“But how did you get to Wilson Creek? And you said something
about somebody wanting to kill you. We’ve got so many questions. Please do
tell!” said Carrie.
“I’ll tell you what I can”, said Harold, “But you may find
it to be a strange story, especially for country folks like you.”
“Try us!” said Sushmita, “we are used to all sorts of
strange stories from Mr. Blake. We’ll see if you can top him!”
They all laughed.
“Alright, I’ll try,” replied Harold, “but first you need to
understand a bit about me. My full name is Harold Paudash. I am 24 years old. My
ancestors belong to the Hiawatha First Nation, but I grew up in Toronto.
“For several generations my family lived in Toronto, mostly
working on construction of the high-rise towers. Jobs were plenty. The work was
good. We thought we had it made.
“Then came the hardships. First the Great Depression of ’92.
That was when I was thirteen years old. All construction stopped. Most of those
buildings are still standing half-completed. My father was suddenly without
work and had no chance of getting jobs. My uncles moved back to the Reservation
around that time, but we decided to carry on in the hope that things would get
better. Me and my two sisters and my parents – we all did whatever odd jobs we
could to pay the rent and keep on living. Then came the Great Flu of ’94. Lost
my mom and one of my sisters. But because so many working-age adults died, once
the flu ran its course, there was more work for my dad, my sister and me. We
managed to get by. But when the power went out in ’97, that’s when things
became really bad in the city.”
At this point, Carrie and Sushmita looked at each other. The
electrical grid went down permanently in Havelock and vicinity in 2070, so they
had never known electricity except for a few farmhouses in the area that had
rickety old solar panels and jerry-rigged small-scale wind turbines for
domestic use.
“There were terrible riots. Without refrigeration and electric
stoves, it became a big problem to preserve and cook food. People were quickly going
hungry. Apartment buildings and condos became uninhabitable. Thousands of
people were living on the streets. And then most of the street people died in
the snow and the cold in the Snowstorm of January ’98.
“We were lucky. We had a house. And the city kept the water
and sewage systems running. We were kept really busy retrofitting houses with
ice-boxes and rocket-stoves. The pay wasn’t good, but it was enough to survive
on and besides we were helping our fellow-citizens to survive by keeping their
houses habitable.
“There was no more police force and crime became a problem,
but residents found ways to pay for protection to their local gang. Armed gangs
ruled the streets by night and eventually by day too. Gun-running from the US
was a huge business. Everybody – and I mean everybody – in the city owned a gun
and learned how to use it.
“Things were getting worse year by year and political
protests became more common. If you wanted your neighbourhood to continue to
survive, you had to organize politically and lobby the municipal government
mercilessly – as well as pay bribes. I ended getting involved in local
politics. We were doing a lot of good, especially for those who were barely
surviving.
“But when 100,000 American refugees stormed the border at
Niagara Falls in 2100 and came to Toronto, everything fell apart. The Mayor was
assassinated and was replaced by a gangster. My group protested at the
Provincial Legislature demanding that the Province declare martial law to
restore order in Toronto – and then bombs went off in Queens Park, killing all Ministers
of Provincial Parliament. The military police, who were stationed nearby,
arrested me and thousands of others who were there at the time. We are now
serving life sentences without trial.”
Harold paused for a moment, obviously fatigued by telling
his story. Carrie took advantage of the break to ask him a question.
“But if you are a prisoner how did you get here? The nearest
penitentiary is hundreds of kilometres from here!”
“That’s where modern politics comes in. In 2101, when Canada
died and the Republic of Ontario was born, the newly elected President of
Ontario decided to be ‘creative’ in solving the incarceration crisis by dealing
with a new environmental crisis. Our old nuclear plants in Pickering and
Bowmanville were becoming ever more expensive and difficult to maintain, even
though they had not produced power in over sixty years. You see, these sites
stored the spent nuclear fuel rods which, if left alone, would incinerate the
nuclear facilities and then send radioactive ash and dust all over the Great
Lakes area. Coal burning generators were constructed on site to generate the
power necessary to prevent this nuclear nightmare from happening. And so, the
President ordered that all political prisoners be involved in the
transportation of nuclear wastes to a deep depository in the Kawartha
Highlands.”
At this point Carrie and Sushmita hardly understood a word
of what Harold was saying, but they didn’t want to interrupt him. And he
continued with his story.
“So, for the past two years, I have been working as a slave
on the underground facility to store the radioactive rods 200 metres
underground near Bancroft. But that was the safe and easy work. Now that the
facility has been completed, now we have started to transport this toxic
cargo.”
Harold saw incredulity creep into the faces of his audience,
and so he paused. “But that’s impossible”, said Sushmita. “The only tracks
between Pickering and Bancroft go right by our community. Nobody has seen any trains.”
“You may be right,” replied Harold, “but I’ll let you in on
a little secret. We have only been making these runs for the past month and
always in the cover of night. Plus, when we go through a community, we turn all
lights off and let the engine idle to minimize noise. And I suspect that the
President’s Office has been paying ‘hush money’ to anyone who lives within a
kilometre of the tracks, as well as to local Mayors and Councils keep a lid on
things.
“Anyway, I swear that what I am telling you is the truth.
But you haven’t heard the worst yet. What the President calls a ‘life sentence’
is really a ‘death sentence’. The slaves who touch and transport this cargo are
doomed to a horrible, horrible death. I have seen some of the first casualties
with my own eyes. The ‘handlers’ of the cargo are the first to go. Within a few
hours they get severe headaches, diarrhea and vomiting. Next comes the hair
loss, weakness and fatigue. Skin irritations. And then finally, massive
internal bleeding. Within three days they are dead. We all know this. And we
figure that about 500 people will die this way every single month until all the
fuel is transported ten years from now. That’s 60,000 deaths. That will finish
off all the political prisoners plus a whole lot more.
“Yesterday was just my second run, and I was already losing
my hair in clumps and my skin was bubbling up into sores and peeling off in
places. I figured that in another week or ten days, I would be toast. And so,
out of desperation, I found a way to jump off the train. I expected to die, but
a sudden death by fall seemed a lot better than dying in a huge pool of my own
bloody vomit and shit.
“I managed to break free from my bonds undetected and threw
two guards off the train when they spotted me. I then took a leap in the pitch
dark of night, not knowing where I would land. Somehow, I ended up in a pond
and made my way up the creek as far as I could, to hide my scent from
bloodhounds, until I ran out of strength. It was hard going, as I think I broke
some ribs and my left arm when I fell. I must have passed out where you found
me. I had probably been lying there for twelve hours, because I cannot remember
travelling by daylight.
“And so, here I am. Blake has been an amazing doctor for the
past week. He seems to know what can cure me of this wretched poisoning. I
don’t know how much longer it will take before I feel well again, but at any
rate, I am immensely grateful for his services and to you two for saving my
life by bringing me to him.”
Blake spoke for the first time since introducing Harold to
the girls. “The world is a small and strangely connected place,” he said. “When
I was young, it just so happened that I worked at the Pickering Plant during
its final decade of operation. I learned all about radiation poisoning and
found out about all possible treatments – especially herbs – because I myself
experienced low-level radiation sickness and reacted badly to conventional
treatments. Soon after the plant closed, I turned my back on the world. There was
no use for my professional training, now that all the nuclear plants were
closing. And here I have been for sixty years keeping this knowledge on how to
treat radiation sickness hoping to never have to use it again.”
------
It was getting late. Carrie and Sushmita had to rush to get
back home before dark. They thanked Blake and Harold for their stories and
promised to return soon.
All the way back home, the two girls talked about Harold and
his strange tale. It seemed unbelievable, but he seemed earnest in his telling
of it. And there seemed to be no good explanation of how else a person like him
got to the place they found him. His story would also explained the mysterious
presence of military police in the area during the past week Besides, they had
never seen bright yellow coveralls before the day the saw Harold and had never
even heard that people wear such strange, ugly clothes.
------
That night Carrie had the same vivid dream again. It was
exactly the same as the first time down to the smallest detail. She vowed to
visit Harold every day.
To keep her mother from noticing her absences, Carrie tried
to keep her visits to Blake and Harold short – usually about half an hour.
Sometimes Sushmita was able to join her, but not always. Carrie was able to
make herself useful even during the shortest of visits: applying salves to
Harold’s skin, massaging his scalp with various oils, and chatting with him
throughout the visits. In a way, she was glad that her mother had forced her to
do endless chores since she was a little girl, because she was so used to it
that she felt uncomfortable sitting still – and there seemed to be so much to
do in order to nurse Harold back to health.
Each time she visited, she learned more about Harold and the
life that he had lived in Toronto and the privations he had suffered as a
political prisoner-turned-slave. His life had been so much more interesting
than hers, but much more fraught with danger. One time she approached him from
behind and touched him on the shoulder to get his attention. And before she
knew it, she was down on the ground, pinned down by one arm and both legs, with
Harold on top, his right hand clenched in fist beside his head ready to strike
her. He immediately apologized to her and said that this was a reflex action;
he made her promise to never approach him that way again. She more felt pity
for him than anger at being roughly handled: it deeply impressed her about how
life had become a matter of survival of the fittest – or perhaps the
quickest-reflexed -- in early 22nd century Toronto.
------
By mid-October, all the rice in the vicinity of Havelock was
harvested and farmers were preparing to plant a crop of winter wheat and/or
fava beans. The military police had come by a few more times and spoken with
locals, but nobody had seen them in two weeks. Harold had nearly fully
recovered from his physical injuries as well as radiation poisoning and was
planning for his departure. Carrie visited every day even though her services
as a medical assistant was no longer needed; she could not bear the thought of
spending a whole day without the company of Harold. During the brief occasions
when they were alone together, Harold would kiss her. She had never felt such
passionate kisses before and she felt thrilled by them.
During one warm mid-October day, while Carrie was present,
Blake said to Harold, “So, where will you go to, young man, before winter sets
in?”
“I have been giving it a lot of thought, old man,” he fondly
replied, “after all, I’ve had lots of time to think. I am finished with
Toronto: life there will only get worse and worse, from what I see. I think
that it is time for me to return to my ancestral lands and somehow make a life
for myself there. I am not sure what skills will prove useful, but I am willing
to try and learn anything. But first, I feel the need to go to one of the old
places that my grandparents used to tell me about: it is known as Petroglyphs.
Medicine Men used to go there to receive visions and carved them into a big
marble dome. They told me that it is by Stony Lake. I think that if I visit
that place, I will feel either some sort of guidance or at least clarity about
my future. After that, I will go either to wherever I feel guided, or if I get
no guidance, I will find the way to my Reserve.”
“That sounds like a good idea. I have been to Petroglyphs a
few times,” stated Blake. “Do you know how to get there?”
“It will be tricky because my grandparents did not use
Havelock as a reference point, but if there is a will there is a way.”
“It is about 25 kilometres north of here. I can take you
there. I may not be fast, but I am still sure-footed, and I know all the
woodland paths and river crossings between here and there. Besides, there is
nothing tying me down to this place.”
“Well, I don’t like the idea at all,” piped up Carrie, “if I
am not included.” By this time she had totally forgotten that Blake had
associated ‘danger’ with Harold.
“Don’t you think your mother will object, young lady?”
questioned Blake, “I hear that she is a force to be reckoned with!”
“You are right about my mother,” she replied, “but I am
nineteen years old and can make my own decisions about my life. My mother chose
her own path when she was my age, so she can’t object too strongly if I follow
in her footsteps.”
“Then you are free to come,” answered Blake. “Once at
Petroglyphs you will can come back with me, unless you choose a different
path.”
------
That night Carrie informed her brother about her plans. If
she did not tell anyone in the family, then there would be a great deal of fear
and panic.
Seth was not keen on the idea, but he knew that once Carrie
got something into her mind, nothing could deter her. “Though you don’t know
it, I have come close to crazy man Blake’s shack a few times to spy on the
stranger. Blake always sees me even though I am as quiet as an owl: he winks
straight at me as soon as I come and then he ignores me as if I wasn’t there at
all. What an odd old man! Anyway, I have watched and listened to Harold
closely, and he seems like a decent fellow even though he talks a bit funny, adding g’s to the end of words
that don’t got it – like ‘nothin’. I will handle Mother while you are away, as
long as it is only for two weeks or so. You’ll be coming back in two weeks,
right?”
“I hope so, Seth,” Carrie replied somewhat choked up, “take
care of yourself, and Mother, too.”
Carrie managed to meet with Sushmita in the evening to tell
her the news and the plans. Sushmita was excited about Carrie’s adventure, but
was worried that they might not meet again. Carrie assured her that they will,
hugged Sushmita and headed home.
Shortly before dawn Carrie quietly slipped out of the house
and headed towards Blake’s shack.
------
Soon after dawn the party of three set out, heading north,
each equipped with a bedroll tied to a small backpack. Blake led the way,
followed by Carrie, and then Harold. After a couple of hours of walking they
left the level farmland behind and entered what used to be called “cottage
country” – the wild mix of rocky hills and knolls, lakes, rivers and marshes
that makes up the Kawarthas. Each took turns leading, with Harold usually
taking the lead downhill and Blake taking the lead uphill (so that he wouldn’t
end up trailing behind the others). At least half the trees in the forests they
walked through were dead: a matter that seemed normal to both Carrie and
Harold, but it was still a horrible site to Blake who could remember the
forests of his youth when dead trees were a small proportion of the total.
In the evening, the three were looking for a soft, sheltered
spot to spend the night, when a movement in the distance, between some trees,
caught Blake’s attention. “My eyes are not as sharp as they used to be, but
living in the woods as I do, I notice things. And I saw something that does not
sit right with me. Be quiet and very cautious,” he told the other two. They
decided not to light a cooking fire to be on the safe side. When Carrie went
down to the edge of a river to fetch some water, she suddenly heard a commotion
at their encampment. She could hear several men’s voices – Harold’s and two
others that she did not recognize. The volume of their voices quickly rose and
by the time she got back, she saw Harold rolling on the ground with two men in
dark blue uniforms. Somehow, the authorities had tracked them and were intent
on turning Harold in. This was the worst possible situation Carrie could
imagine.
She screamed and tried to distract the two men. She threw
stones and sticks and whatever else she could find handy at them. But the two
officers ignored her and eventually they forced Harold’s hands behind his back
and put on handcuffs. As soon as Harold was handcuffed, one of the officers
quickly approached Carrie and told her, “I’m taking you in as well for
harbouring a fugitive,” and before she knew it, he had deftly handcuffed her.
She couldn’t believe this was happening.
Carrie quickly looked around and saw Blake lying still on
the ground some distance away. She wanted to go to Blake to check on him, but
the officer gruffly said to her, “Oh, he’ll be alright. He just got in the way
of the Law. He’s lucky we don’t take him in, too, but we’ll let the old codger
go… this time.”
“Blake, are you alright?” Carrie said, with a louder and
more panicked tone than she expected. He didn’t move. Before she could think of
anything else to say or do, the officers started to lead Carrie and Harold to
the East. Just before they entered some thick brush, Carrie looked back one
more time.
“I’m sorry, Blake”, she said. He was still lying down, facing her.
In a flash, he opened his eyes, and then winked one eye at her. And then she
was gone into the bush, puzzled at what she just saw.
The officers were rough and pushed Carrie and Harold at a
relentless pace through the forest, around marshes, and past a group of
half-collapsed, ruined cottages beside a lake. The officers made a lot of noise
as they tramped through the woods – obviously they were more accustomed to
pursuing their prey in open country. This went on for about half an hour.
They suddenly came to a clearing with a large marsh before
them and steep rocky cliffs to both the left and right. The officers stopped
and looked for a way around. “I don’t think we’ve been here before,” one said
to the other with a slightly concerned tone. While scouting for a possible
route, there came a loud crashing sound to the left: a sound much louder than
even a large man could make. The crashing sound was soon accompanied by a loud,
deep growl. A huge, black form came barrelling to them on four legs: a black
bear!
The officer guiding Carrie let her go and put his right hand
to his hip, pulling out a pistol. He fired two shots: the first went wide, but
the second hit its mark. The bullet did not slow down the bear even slightly
and within seconds, the bear was upon the man. With its claws and jaws, the
bear mauled the officer to death. The second officer then shot at the bear four
times, but before he could shoot a fifth time, the bear was upon him. He, too,
met a gory end.
Harold and Carrie stood in shock as this massive beast
devoured one of the officers only a few metres from them. Before long, their
peripheral vision caught movement behind them – it was Blake. He was motioning
them to slowly move towards him. They did so, resisting the primal urge to run
away from danger as fast as possible. After what seemed like hour, but was more
like one minute, they were back in the woods and quickly put distance between
themselves and the bear.
“Bears didn’t used to be like that when I was young,”
explained Blake to them, “but now there is so much less blueberries and other
wild foods for them to gorge on in autumn, due to climate change, and so they
turn on whatever large ‘game’ they can find – including humans.”
Both Carrie and Harold were soon wondering how they would
manage to get their handcuffs off. “Don’t worry about that,” said Blake
cheerily, practically reading their thoughts. Plunging his hand into a pocket,
he pulled out a key ring. “What the…?”, said Carrie and Harold simultaneously
at the sight of the ring that obviously belonged to an officer. “Picked his
pocket as he pushed me aside,” quipped Blake, “I figured that they would come
in handy!”
Freed from their bonds, the group put as much distance
between themselves and the bear as they could until it got too dark to travel
any more. They spend a largely sleepless night (in fear of the bear), but the
bear did not make an appearance.
By noon on the second day they reached Petroglyphs. They
were greeted by Peter -- an Elder of the Curve Lake Nation -- who performed
daily prayers at the site in honour of the ancestors. Harold told Peter of his
desire and Peter advised him to spend two days in fasting and prayer at the
site to seek guidance. Carrie and Blake camped some distance away and waited.
At this time Blake taught Carrie some skills for surviving in the woods, and
Carrie confessed to Blake her strong love for Harold. Blake told her that he
had seen the spark of love in her from the day she brought Harold to his shack
and he was not at all surprised at how things had turned out.
On the third day at Petroglyphs, Harold told Peter about a
vision he had and the two of them talked for a long time together. Harold was
convinced that his future was with his ancestral community and Peter described
to him the best route to take from Petroglyphs south to the Hiawatha First
Nation community.
------
Finally,
with the Petroglyphs visit completed, Harold approached the two others and said
to Blake, “I guess this is where we part ways. My route is southwest, while
yours is due south. You have healed me body and soul. I can never repay you for
the kindness you have shown.”
“No need to do that, dear Harold,” replied Blake, “just
remember what I taught you and whenever the occasion arises to use that
knowledge, use it. That is the best repayment possible.” They hugged each other
for a long time.
Turning to Carrie, Harold said, “So, what do you say? Will
you return to your family and the farm and all that is safe and familiar? Or
will you come with me to a place you have never seen and face a future that is
totally unknown to both of us? I can promise you my love, but little else in
this world. The Law may still be looking out for me. I don’t even know if the
radiation that I was exposed to recently will come back as some horrible cancer
some day.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Carrie knew which path she
would choose, as she had mentally prepared herself for this moment ever since
their journey began. “Many girls would envy the life that I have led so far,”
she began, “as we have good land and a strong, supporting community. Somehow
Havelock – and my family in particular – has been spared so much suffering that
has been experienced over the past few decades.
“But I know that my life back home would be an empty shell
without you in it. I am not afraid of hard work. I am not afraid of want. But I
dread a life without a good dose of adventure… and I know that life with you
will bring me much of that.”
Delighted with her answer, Harold took Carrie’s hands in his
and silently looked deeply into her eyes.
“I will
tell your brother of your decision,” Blake told her with a twinkle in his eyes,
“but I won’t tell to where you have gone. I’ll just say you’ve gone to find
your fortune. In case the Law snoops around again looking for Harold, the fewer
people know about your destination the better. I see a bright future for the
two of you – far brighter than for most people of your generation.”
Harold and Carrie were puzzled by Blake’s words, but they
simply shrugged and said their good-byes to him.
------
Carrie
and Harold made their way southwest: first through the rugged Kawartha Lakes
region and then through the farmland and rolling hills to the south. When they
came to farm country, they kept out of sight as much as possible, walking
through Indian River to hide their scent in case the Law was still hunting for
Harold. It was a particular relief to safely put the railway tracks and the old
highway number seven behind them. Then after some time they returned to the
wild country.
To Carrie, this journey was part like a dream and part like
a Honeymoon. She had Harold all to herself, uninterrupted, for three days on
end. They spent many precious moments together and despite the hunger and the
fatigue and exposure to the elements (fortunately for them the weather was warm
and dry throughout their trip) neither of them would have traded it for the
world.
At long last, in the late afternoon of the third day, Harold
said to Carrie, “Hold still and keep down. I need to see what’s up ahead. I
think that I heard something.” And he walked forward into the bush and
disappeared. Minutes passed by silently. Then she heard a shout of alarm,
followed by a burst of laughter and three voices talking in an animated way
simultaneously.
Harold appeared again, trailed by two young men of a similar
age and look as Harold. “Carrie,” he announced, “let me introduce you to my
cousins Bob and Joe – their father is my uncle who left Toronto many years
before. We are here. We’ve made it to Hiawatha.” The two cousins practically
pushed each other to be the first to approach Carrie. Small talk ensued.
A moment later, Carrie was led into a nearby cabin, where
Harold introduced her to his Aunt Maxine. Before she knew it, Carrie was being
warmly embraced by a bear of a woman in her late forties.
“How much I have
hoped to see my nephew again – and I knew that if he was still alive, somehow
he would make it back. But you are a treasure to behold.”
After a while, the strangest thing imaginable happened to
Carrie. She and Harold followed his cousins and aunt about one hundred metres
and suddenly stopped, facing south, with the setting sun hitting the right side
of their faces. Standing beside Harold and holding his hand, Carrie saw before
her an immense lake with tall grass growing out of it. “Welcome to Rice Lake,
honey,” said Aunt Maxine to her, “this is your home.”
