Fractured: Tales of the Canadian Post-Apocalypse(50)

They laugh at how I say it: Manitoba. No longer an invader but a liberator. Today I live and die in Manitoba.





SAYING GOODBYE


Michael S. Pack

November 3

I think I’m the last person on the islands.

I took the boat across the channel yesterday, hoping to see Lloyd. I had some carrots for trade, but I found his house in Sandspit empty. When I took a look around town, I found Lloyd at the base of some steps. It didn’t seem right that an old piece of shoe leather like Lloyd would die from a fall, but we don’t choose how we go. By the state of his body, I’d guess that happened a week ago, maybe two. He won’t need my carrots.

He was the last man living on Moresby. A family used to migrate around the west coast of the island, but I haven’t heard from them in years. The storms took them, one of the winter storms when Arctic winds scream over the strait howling like the big bad wolf doing his best to blow out the moon. Not a time to be on the water.

I buried Lloyd on the hill behind his house so the grave overlooks the Pacific. He came from the Prairies, but he lived for wind and waves. He told me once that the first time he’d seen the ocean he’d fallen more in love than he had with any of his three wives. Back before, he’d sailed in the merchant marine. Even after he retired, he worked the halibut boats. After the world fell apart, he never stopped sailing his boat across the strait to the mainland. Weeks would pass, then he’d show up at my cabin with his discovered treasures. He taught me what I know about boats. I’ll never make a proper seaman, but I know my way around.

I think he’d like where I buried him. I hope so.

I scavenged a bit. Lloyd had a collection of comic books. I’d read them over the years, but I don’t mind reading them again. In his cellar I found some jarred food. I took those where the seals looked good; left the rest. Pickles. Salmonberry jam. Peaches. Hell if I know where Lloyd found peaches. He used to have a pair of binoculars, but I couldn’t find them. Maybe he traded them to a survivor on the mainland for the peaches.

I took Lloyd’s boat, the Hannah Marie, from the dock and trailed mine behind on a line. With the Hannah Marie I could sail clear around the island. Or follow Lloyd’s path and head to the mainland. It would be hard sailing, going alone like that, but I’ve thought about it.

December 4

I managed to get the old generator running for a bit. I listened to the ham radio, the one I traded for from the brothers. I don’t have a set-up to transmit much but I can pick voices out of the air. I used to chat with this guy down near Port Hardy. He promised that he’d bring his wife up to visit. He never made the trip. That was years back. I’ve talked to a few others over the years. A woman used to sing on the radio sometimes. Never knew where from, but she sounded American. Maybe Alaska or Seattle. She wouldn’t answer, but I liked her singing. I haven’t heard her in a long while.

Lately, I haven’t heard much but static. Tonight, I heard someone talking. I think she spoke Japanese. She sounded alone. Far off and alone. I tried to talk back, but I doubt she got the signal. If she did, she probably didn’t understand anything I said. Maybe she heard me. Maybe she heard my voice speaking on the radio and knew she wasn’t alone in the world. Not completely. Not yet.

December 16

Wish I had a beer. It’s been seven years since my last six-pack.

December 24

I cut down a little pine and brought it into my house. I cranked up the genny to try the lights, but too many of the bulbs have burnt out on the string. I thought about looking through my neighbours’ homes to see if any of them left a string of tree lights, but it felt wrong to steal Christmas ornaments, even if they won’t ever come back for them.

I found a DVD in town last week. I wrapped it up in some paper and tape. Tomorrow morning I’ll find out what Santa left me.

December 25

Ran the genny long enough to watch the gold medal hockey match from the 2010 Olympics. Canada against the U.S. When Canada scored the winning goal in overtime, I stood up and cheered. I’d done that before, watching from a pub in Prince George, but that was a long time ago. It made for a good day.

Santa knew just what I wanted.

January 2

The Japanese woman was crying on the radio. I tried to transmit a message to her. Don’t think she heard me. Are we the last two people on earth? Here on opposite sides of the Pacific, where we can’t even see each other. Can’t be sure anyone even hears us. She went off the air at about 3 a.m. I stayed up the rest of the night. Listening to the silence.

January 15

The chill of the storm cuts through the walls. The winds have died down, but freezing rain keeps falling. I’ll have to check for damage tomorrow, and hope the roof isn’t too slick from ice.

Nights like this put me in mind of that night. The night when the last evacuation teams went door to door, all over the islands. Last call, last ferry to the mainland. Get out now or forever hold your peace. They had nothing to offer me. They promised an all-expense-paid vacation to some cramped refugee camp down south, but I’d come to Haida Gwaii to get away from people. Besides, Gloria stayed. They wouldn’t let her take her dogs, and she wouldn’t leave them.

The ferry sailed with the wind howling and the chop on the ocean dangerous and angry. Desperation led people to make bad decisions. Later, Lloyd found wreckage floating in the strait. The currents spared our beach most of the debris. I’ve always been thankful for that. I had good friends on that ferry.