Fractured: Tales of the Canadian Post-Apocalypse(53)
April 24
I sailed back a ways, anchored the Hannah Marie near Tow Hill, and rowed to the beach. The abutment runs out into the ocean. It looks north. My grandpa told me that if you had a good set of binoculars you could see Alaska. He was pulling my leg, I’m sure of it. Still, you can’t beat the view. Up on the side of the hill, I could still hear the waves crashing below while salt foam sprayed around the rocks at the base.
The old timers used to call these islands “the place where two worlds meet.” I understand about that place. I left my father’s world for my mother’s. I watched one world die. I watched another world be born. In a thousand thousand years, maybe another people will come and find this place. They will set foot on these islands and tell legends about those who went before.
In the cold winds above me, a raven flies. I watch him for a while before making my way back down to the beach. I wonder what will remain when I am gone. Impermanent as fading memory. Flowers on a grave. Footprints on stone. Above me, the raven warbles. Perhaps he tells his own legends. Perhaps he remembers.
I have begun to think about those voices that no longer call out on the radio. About saying goodbye. Lloyd once swore that the Hannah Marie would make it across the Pacific. I hoisted the Maple Leaf on the flagpole and I set sail for the west. If nothing else, the rocking of the boat will help me find my dreams.
OF THE DYING LIGHT
Arun Jiwa
Zara walked through the suburbs as the sun disappeared behind the empty shells of houses. She glanced at the streetlights as she passed. The light bulbs were all removed. She paused at an intersection, adjusting her pack. Sid walked ahead huddled in his jacket. She had entered the city on the highway north from Calgary, and had yet to see a single person.
Zara didn’t notice the seasons anymore – it always felt like the shortest day in winter – but the trees sensed the change. Fallen leaves in shades of golden fire crackled under her feet. In her last visit to Edmonton, birds had been in the trees, but they had faded away like everything else.
It felt like the neighbourhood was holding its breath. The trees were stripped of their lower branches and others were cut down. Zara couldn’t afford the delay, but the hoarding of light meant that people still lived here, and their desperation meant they would trade.
Zara walked up to the parking lot, startling a group of kids. They ran by in unsettlingly bright clothes, pointing.
A girl stopped to look. Zara knew that look. How gangs and civilians alike sized up an outsider. Zara carried candles and lanterns in her backpack – slow burners – solar cells sewn into her jacket, and her shotgun was visible as well. The girl appraised Zara a moment longer before running off.
Zara looked at the row of empty houses; a night out of the cold and away from the shadows. But not tonight. The parking lot would attract the crowd she needed.
The kids had retreated to a gas station at the corner of the lot, watching her. Zara got the sign out of her pack and propped it against a lamppost. Sid sat on the curb, watching them. Since the accident, he rarely spoke, rarely slept. Some part of him had never come back from the shadows after that night. Ever since the accident he had walked north, and Zara followed him.
She would eventually follow him to the end of the world. He knew where the darkness lived, and he would lead her to it. She’d stayed with him through dark hours on the lightless roads north from Calgary, the days fading as they travelled north – even the light had abandoned this place.
She sat down with Sid. “Game,” he said.
The kids were playing Shadows. The largest group were the shadows, who had to turn the other players into shadows. Ordinary people were the second group – always outnumbered by the shadows. The last player, the light carrier, had to burn as many shadows as possible. Once burned, the shadows wouldn’t come back.
Zara watched a girl dispatch the shadows, wielding her white stone and stick. The game ended when the shadows turned all of the people or when the light carrier burned all the shadows. In the game, the shadows never won.
A drum sounded from near the gas station and the kids disbanded toward the houses. The sun had nearly set when Zara’s customers began to arrive. Normally they traded light bulbs, solar panels, car batteries, lamp oil, or tallow candles. Slow burners and fast burners. Tonight was different.
Zara traded for as much food as she could carry. Edmonton was the last surviving city in Northern Canada with food to spare, and there would be hungry nights on the path ahead.
After trading a sack of harvest apples for his wards, one of her customers introduced himself as the mayor. “Not the mayor of Edmonton,” he added. “Only of this neighbourhood. I wanted to thank you for stopping by and looking out for us.”
There were only two other light carriers in Western Canada. One patrolled through B.C., the other worked in the rural areas in southern Alberta. They stayed away from the northern communities, which meant this group probably hadn’t seen a light carrier in a year. She nodded.
He stood a moment longer, fidgeting with his cap. “I know you’ve other places to be, but if you’re looking to settle down I could make you a reasonable offer.” He stared at the ward Zara had traded to him. Her symbols were carved into the branch, and she had tied the light-infused glass shards to one end.
“Even if it’s only for a week or a month. You could educate us, and help us build a stronger defence.” He glanced at Sid. “We take care of our children.”