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(This photo is a frame taken from footage shot by Richard Glaze back around 1962 -- I think; if anybody could help me identify the actual year, I'd be grateful. It's of a steam train excursion taken up north. Hopefully, I'll post the video at some point soon.)
For your reading pleasure, I thought I'd offer up another story that I published in my Tales From the Silence anthology. As you may know, Tales From the Silence is a companion anthology to The Sun Runners, set in the same universe where the Earth pushed the consequences of climate change back far enough that they had precarious colonies set up across the inner solar system before things caught up and the Earth collapsed. The anthology invites several authors to share tales about life on those colonies between the years the Earth went silent, and when, in The Sun Runners, it awakes and attempts to recapture its earlier influence.
A number of stories within the anthology also focus on Earth, as it recovers from the catastrophe and starts to rebuild over the intervening fifty years. After the Apocalypse in Moosonee takes place in the town of Moosonee on the shores of James Bay -- the end link of the Ontario Northland railroad connecting the community to the rest of Ontario, and its only ground link to civilization. The year is 2177, twenty-six years after the fall of the Manhattan Sea Wall that heralded the Earth's collapse and the start of its silence. The community has suffered, but it has pulled through. What happens when, after twenty-six years, something comes down the tracks?
I was honoured to have this story included in Volume 3 of Stephen Kotowych's Year's Best Canadian Fantasy and Science Fiction, published in 2025. Read on:
After the Apocalypse in Moosonee, by James Bow
Rebeka had been hunting grolar bear when the government train came to town.
Blackflies beat against her face shield and caught in the netting of her kaffiyah. The brown-white bear stood in her sights. Birds chittered. A light breeze rattled the branches.
"Hold still, you."
She sighted down the barrel of her air rifle and blinked. Her ocular implant zoomed in. The brown-white bear doubled in size, then doubled again. It turned its head, and she focused in on its eye.
"Let's see what you've got."
The groler bear glowed green. Information popped out around it: Grizzly-polar hybrid; female; 150 kilograms.
Rebeka held her focus. The halo flickered. She clenched her jaw. "Come on . . ."
Female . . . 150 kilograms . . . Elderly.
"Yes!"
Past cub-rearing age.
"That's what I needed to see." Enough meat to last the winter. More Vitamin A from its liver than they'd ever know what to do with, though Doctor King had been good at convincing the Kalaallit traders to accept his pills. The kids could have new coats before the snows hit.
Now, to calculate the shot.
The halo flashed. New information flowed out: distance, trajectory--
Suddenly, the halo flashed brilliantly. "Ow!"
Rebeka reared back, banging the side of her head like a blackfly had found its way through the netting. "Ow! Ow! Stop it!"
Very like a blackfly.
She clenched her eyes shut. "Come on! Don't give up on me now!"
The flashes stopped. She opened her unaltered eye, looked around, then closed it and opened her implant. She blinked and rubbed her temple. "Okay. Okay, back to work." She settled into the brush and sighted down the barrel again. "Where were we?"
She held her breath. The grolar bear lowered its head into the implant's crosshairs. She rested her finger on the trigger and blinked the safety off. "Go to sleep, old mother," she whispered. "I'll make sure the townkids thank you for their coats." She tightened her finger.
A howl rose through the muskeg and echoed off the hills. The grolar bear jerked up just as Rebeka's gun chuffed. Seconds later, a hole blasted into the trunk of the tree behind where the bear had been.
"Damn it!" Rebeka shoved herself onto her knees, then froze. The howl was still going. What is that noise? Her first thought had been a wolf, but they couldn't hold a note this long, and there was too much power behind it. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped, leaving only echoes in its wake.
Then it started again.
Rebeka clambered to her feet as the second howl lasted as long as the first. It was followed by a third, much shorter howl before a fourth, long one rose. When it ended, Rebeka stood in a forest startled into silence.
Wait.
She started forward, slinging her rifle over her shoulder.
Two long howls, one short, then one long. Only one thing makes that sound . . .
Pausing to geotag where her bullet had struck the tree, Rebeka ran for the rail crossing.
As she ran through the bush, she heard echoes rise from the distant hills: a rhythmic clank of metal, a rumble of engines, the scrape and squeal of wheel against rail. She came out onto an old logging road in time to see a gleam of metal a hundred metres ahead as something crossed the gap in the trees. She heard another howl, almost deafening this time, and a prolonged squeal of brakes, then a thump.
Rebeka skidded down the lumber trail. The rumble of engines continued, this time accompanied by snatches of shouts. She slowed as she reached the level crossing. Planting herself in the shrubbery beside the rails, she peered out.
The train was made up of three self-propelled passenger cars, their sides sun-bleached, dented, and scratched. Most of the windows were covered with corrugated metal. Enough scrap to patch the whole town! At the front of the train stood a dozen people wearing long, loose, camo-coloured cloaks over overalls. They'd wrapped their heads against the blackflies with keffiyehs of netting, too, but stared out at the world through goggles. They wore wide-brimmed khaki hats, and they all had rifles, some held at the ready.
Rebeka ventured out from the shrubs and ducked behind the rear of the train beside the coupler. Everybody's attention was focused at the front. One man climbed down from the cab. He had no rifle. The others flanked him as he crept forward. Rebeka blinked and zoomed in for a closer look.
She winced. The grolar bear lay splayed and messy against the front of the train. Poor thing!
The lead man straightened up, shaking his head. He gestured at the bear, and the others slung their rifles over their shoulders and stepped forward. Voices rose as they cleared the carcass away.
Rebeka geotagged this site, too.
In her zoomed vision, the lead man turned, then paused. He stared across the distance of the train at her position. At her. He tilted his head and started forward.
Rebeka ducked back under cover. As voices approached, she turned and ran for the logging road, diving back into the bush the first chance she got. She raced for home.
#
Rebeka couldn't imagine Moosonee without the sea at its doorstep. The story of James Bay ending twenty kilometres downstream on a river before the waters rose and flooded Moose Factory had been just that: a story. Instead, the smell of salt and the scream of gulls rising over the rush of the pines always called her home.
She crashed out of the bush and followed the old powerline cut until she got to Quarry Road. She kept running. She followed the rutted track as it curved and descended, pulling up beside the rail line as it approached her town. She passed a battered, faded sign that read MOOSONEE, POPULA--.
Patched-up houses and pre-fab stores stretched out ahead of her along dusty roads. The tracks skirted the edge of the town opposite the estuary to the old train station--now the Meeting Hall--beside the Community Centre. People were already gathering on First Street, staring up the line toward the forest and beyond.
Rebeka waved her hands as she drew close. "Hey! Hey!" She pulled off her face shield and unwound her kaffiyah. "Hey! Train!"
"We heard!" Mrs. Freisberg smiled as Rebeka approached. The silver-haired woman squinted at the tree line through cracked glasses. "I haven't heard that sound in over twenty-five years!"
"I saw!" Rebeka waved back the way she'd come, then leaned on her knees, gasping. "They--" She took a deep breath, gulped, then continued. "They ran into a grolar bear at the logging road crossing."
"Whoa! Really?" Kile and his friends leaped up from the stoop of the old Thrift Store. "How long is it?"
"Those things could stretch kilometres!" Liz added. "Long chains of cars, carrying ore, grain, wood! Did you count them?"
"Just three, I'm afraid." Rebeka ruffled Liz's hair to the girl's annoyance. She turned to the others. "Three self-propelled passenger cars, bringing people." To Doctor Elijah King, standing in the doorway to his pharmacy, she added, "Dad, they got rifles."
In the distance, the train whistled twice. The rush of motors and clank of wheels started up again.
King stepped onto the street, as did Brody from the door of the hardware store and Karen from her coffee shop. She hadn't served coffee since the Manhattan Sea Wall failed, but she did serve a legendary bone broth. Karen handed Rebeka a steaming mug.
King glared up the line. "Southerners," he growled.
Brody chuckled softly and patted King's shoulder. "Of course, they're Southerners. Who else could they be? Californians would also be southerners to us."
"And the guns are not a surprise," Karen added. "You'd be an idiot to step into the wilderness without them."
"Still," King grumbled.
"Do you think they'll have news?" Ahead of them, Mrs. Freisberg stared at the train line. Her voice was eager, upbeat, but her hands twisted the strap of her purse. "Do you think they'll know about John?"
Brody, King, and Karen glanced at each other. The townsfolk stayed silent. Rebeka bit her lip.
"Maybe," said Karen at last.
King coughed. "I'm sure they have a few stories to tell."
"No harm in asking," Brody added. He glanced at Karen, who nodded and gestured at Kile. Kile nodded and ran into the coffee shop. He came out a moment later with a tray of steaming mugs and handed one to Mrs. Freisberg. She accepted it, not taking her eyes off the line.
The street filled up, more people hurrying in from the outskirts. Some carried whatever they'd been holding when they'd heard the train horn, mugs most often, but sometimes tools or a battered book. The younger kids joined up with Liz, chattering, while Kile hurried back into the coffee shop to deliver more bone broth. Some of the kids started playing train, running around in conga lines, while the bigger kids leaned on walls and pretended to be unimpressed. Old people frowned while parents leaned together and whispered.
Rebeka slung off her rifle, handing it to Brody. He checked the magazine. "You fired a shot?"
"A miss," she replied.
"You geotagged the spot?"
She rolled her eyes. "Of course, Other Dad."
"Hey," King chided. "Be kind."
"I am being kind, Dad," said Rebeka. "How long has it been since I lost a shell? Years? You two won't let me forget about that."
"Well, 'Beka," King began. "Bullets--"
"Bullets don't grow on trees." Rebeka rolled her eyes again. "If I had a shell casing for every time I heard that, we wouldn't have to worry about recycling our supply."
"How did you miss?" Brody cut in.
Rebeka shrugged. "The train horn disturbed the grolar bear."
"The same bear that got hit by that train?"
She nodded. "Geotagged that as well. Should still be a lot of usable flesh left."
"Good job." Brody gave Rebeka a smile and a wink. "You think the liver's okay?"
King sighed. "Don't you start, you two."
Rebeka grinned. "Yeah. Should be plenty of Vitamin A there! Don't want to run out of that." She looked up at King. "Right, Dad?"
He rolled his eyes.
The train horn sounded, closer this time. The town kids joined in, making whistle sounds in response. Conversations buzzed. Brody and King drew closer with the crowd, Rebeka a step behind.
"How could they be here?" asked Brody.
"They must have figured out a way around Otter Rapids," King replied.
Brody let out a chuff of disbelief. "They'd need to build a new bridge for that, past the ruined dam and overtop the old town. How could they have done that without us noticing?"
Karen paused between handing out mugs. "Well, it is a hundred and forty kilometres away."
Brody turned to her. "I saw the rail end this past spring. It's a dead drop into the canyon, and there's nothing there but rocks and trees and water. They'd have to have moved in supplies and built a bridge in less than six months. We should have noticed something."
"Could they have used the New Government Road?" asked Rebeka.
"It's in even worse shape," Brody replied. "It's washed out pretty much everywhere north of Iroquois Falls."
"Well, however they did it, they did it," said King, as headlights broke out from the treeline. He raised his voice over the shouts and cheers of the other townsfolk. "And now we're going to meet them." He nodded at the former station. "Appropriately, at the Meeting Hall."
#
As they walked toward the train station/Meeting Hall, Rebeka's vision flared. She staggered, then stepped to one side, leaning against a wall. She kept her implant eye closed as she massaged her temple.
Shadows fell over her. King and Brody looked down. They didn't say anything. They didn't need to.
"It's okay," she said through gritted teeth. She turned away, forced her eye open, then blinked rapidly. "Just a glitch."
Brody's voice pitched up. "Clearly, it's not."
"Other Dad--"
"Bex!" He waved his arms. "These are coming almost daily now! You can't keep living like this. We need to take you up the coast."
She glared at him. "Did the hospital in Attawapiskat take delivery of a new batch of implants?" She gestured at her implant. "Because otherwise, they're just going to remove this."
Brody started to shout, caught himself, and then lowered his voice. "Better that than pain."
"Easy for you to say," she snapped. "You're not looking at blindness."
"Brody?" King's voice was calm, quiet. "Go on to the Meeting Hall. Save us a spot."
Brody drew in his breath, looked at King, frowned at Rebeka, and then stalked off, shaking his head.
Rebeka pulled a necklace of metal beads from her pocket. She ran the rosary through her fingers and breathed deep against the memory of pain.
King pulled a match from his pocket. It flared to life as he crouched low to get a good look at her eye. Rebeka huffed but opened her eye wide. "The thing's still working, Dad! I would have had the bear if the train hadn't startled it."
"It's not about that, and you know it." King waved the match out and stuffed it back in his pocket. "Brody doesn't like to see you in pain. Neither do I. I'm not seeing any physical damage yet, but if this gets any worse, you're going to the hospital in Attawapiskat."
Rebeka looked away. The rosary beads clicked between her fingers. "Dad, I can't put food on the table with just one eye, and a normal one at that."
King gave her a tight smile. "You'll adjust. And it doesn't have to be just you who puts food on the table, you know."
"I'm the best shot in town thanks to this implant," she snapped. "If I don't put food on the table, what good am I?"
"You're my daughter; that's what good you are." He gripped her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "And that's plenty good enough."
She pushed his hand away. "I don't want to talk about this right now." She pocketed her rosary and shoved past him. "Come on. We don't want to miss this meeting."
#
The brakes squealed as the train descended the line into town. Its horn blared, and kids who'd stepped too close clamped their hands over their ears. The train slowed as it reached the platform, which was now full of people.
Finally, the engines cut out and, brakes squealing, the train eased to a stop. Metal shutters pulled away from the windows, revealing soldiers in camo gear, faces obscured by netting and goggles. Rifles were slung over their shoulders. They stared out at the people on the platform and the people stared back. The kids and some of the older folks started to edge away.
At the head of the train, the cab door opened, and a man stepped to the edge. Rebeka recognized his long coat, netting, and hat from the logging road crossing. He looked out at the audience, then pulled off his hat and goggles, unwinding his kaffiyah netting, revealing the face of a clean-shaven man with short, brown-blond hair and dark eyes. "Hello!" His smile showed brilliant white teeth.
He raised his hat high, and his voice. "Hello, Moosonee! I'm so glad to see you all here! How long has it been? Twenty-six years? But you're still here! Wonderful! Wonderful!" He clapped, loud and hard, and the soldiers at the train windows started clapping as well.
At the back of the crowd, Rebeka watched the townsfolk look around, many confused. But as the applause continued, some straightened their shoulders, looking proud. She found herself nodding, thinking, Damn straight. We're still here.
The man continued, "My name is Drew McMurtry, and I work for the Toronto District Government."
He tossed his hat, goggles, and kaffiyah inside the cab, clambered down onto the platform, then gestured to the soldiers on the train. "Take the nets off, all of you! The blackflies aren't bad around here. Let everybody see your faces!" He turned back to the crowd. "Let everybody see everybody. This is . . ." He stopped, sighed, and, when he looked up, seemed almost in tears. "This is a great reunion after all this time. We're so glad to see you all there."
He clapped again as the soldiers removed their nets and goggles, revealing men and women. Some men had beards, some not. Some soldiers had close-cropped hair; others wore their hair longer. Without the keffiyehs and goggles, all looked . . . young. Nervous. Shy. They smiled and applauded, and, this time, the townsfolk clapped with them.
As the applause ebbed, McMurtry raised his hands. "I'd like to speak to your council. We have a lot of catching up to do." He gestured as two soldiers pulled open a loading door in the middle of the first car. Each held a cardboard box in their hands. "First things first, though: to the people of Moosonee, we're from Toronto, and we bring . . . chocolate!"
Two soldiers jumped onto the platform, opening the boxes to reveal rows of foil-wrapped bars. Everyone stared. Then the kids rushed forward en masse before being held back, barely, by their parents. After brief chaos, the crowd organized the children into lines. Each kid received one bar and thanked the soldier handing them out before going immediately to the back of the line for a second offering.
Rebeka looked at the boxes in the soldiers' hands and noted similar ones in the train car behind them. There's probably enough in there to give every child quite a sugar high.
King glanced at Rebeka. He and Brody shared a look. Then he nudged Karen, who nodded. She stepped forward to McMurtry and stuck out her hand. "Mr. McMurtry, welcome to Moosonee." Smiling, he shook her hand. "My name is Karen Quachegan," she continued. "I'm the . . . mayor of this town." She gestured at the station behind her. "Why don't we go into the Meeting Hall? We have bone broth."
Rebecca watched as Karen, Brody, and King led McMurtry into the station. Two soldiers followed close behind. On the train, four soldiers wrestled a waist-high crate to the edge of the train's loading doors and called for help. Townsfolk rushed forward to assist. As everyone worked, Rebecca counted the soldiers in her head.
Two dozen, she thought. And all of them with guns.
#
After the soldiers and townsfolk volunteers loaded the large crate onto a cart, Rebeka followed them as the soldiers guided the cart into the Meeting Hall. McMurtry, flanked by his two soldiers, sat at one side of the head table while Karen sat at the other, Brody and King beside her. Everybody clasped steaming mugs of bone broth. Townsfolk pulled up seats around them.
McMurtry gestured to the crate as it entered. "More gifts from the Toronto District Government. Chocolate is a nice treat, but probably not all that you need, am I right?"
"That's very generous, Mr. McMurtry." Karen smiled, looking almost embarrassed by all these gifts. "We have been doing all right here since things stabilized. Some of the older ways helped, including hunting, but new supplies are always appreciated. We have to geotag our bullets so we can rescue and recycle them before they go extinct. The component parts of our rifles can be fixed up only so many times."
"That's why we're here," said McMurtry. "I think this will help provide all of the supplies you need."
King coughed. "We appreciate all of these gifts from the south, Mr. McMurtry, but we are all wondering how you came to be here."
McMurtry tilted his head. "Well . . . what was the last thing you heard from . . . us?"
"We heard the Manhattan Sea Wall failed," said Brody. "We heard there were riots. Then the electricity cut out and we lost the Internet. We had to rely on ham radios to get any sort of news after that. The last thing we heard from the south was the warning from Otter Rapids that the dam at the Abitibi Generating Station had collapsed and that we had to get to higher ground, fast. Since then, all our news has come from the north."
McMurtry nodded solemnly. "That . . . that must have been really hard." He smiled, still solemn. "There were hard years for us, too, but we managed to restore order in the city and save the farms around it. We kept Holland Marsh from flooding, and that stabilized our food supply. We moved City Hall into Queen's Park, and since then, we've been bringing the surrounding settlements under our protection as we can manage it. Hamilton. Waterloo. Belleville. Ottawa's a big mess. And as for the Dominion of Montreal . . ." His lip curled a moment. "Well, we've banged heads with them, but I think we've come to an understanding. The peace has held."
He leaned back. "Since then, we've been reaching out, seeing who we can help, making things safe for everybody, bringing things back to some level of normalcy. There are jobs to be done--paying jobs--and we need people to fill them. We're trading with Michigan, the Boston Free State, the Montrealers, even. The world is starting to come back together, and we want to help that process along. And that's why we're here, with supplies and . . . more." He gestured to the soldier on his right.
The soldier, a woman, stood up. She had close-cropped blonde hair and wore a white armband on her sleeve emblazoned with a red cross. "Hello, everybody. My name is Sergeant Mireille Baker, and I'm a medic. With your permission, I'd like to talk to all of you and hear about any medical issues you might have. We've brought medicines, and we have access to more back south. Does anybody have any issues they'd like to go over with with me?"
Silence settled on the room as, without making it obvious, the townsfolk focused on King. He leaned back in his seat and gave a barely perceptible nod to Karen. She gave that nod back and shifted in her seat. "I'm sure many of us wouldn't mind being seen to by a southern medic."
The townsfolk relaxed. Hands rose. If McMurtry or any soldiers noticed the silence and communication, they didn't indicate it. Conversations swelled, people talking to Baker, people talking to each other. Karen turned to McMurtry and beckoned others toward them to talk business. Rebeka stepped closer.
"Things are happening in the Arctic," said McMurtry. "Nations are trading all the way to Siberia. There's mineral exploration. There's a lot of opportunity up there. You could be a part of that, and we could help." He smiled and nodded as though expecting thanks. "We can offer protection; stop those Greenlander pirates if they ever show their faces--"
The door opened, and soldiers and townsfolk entered, carrying boxes and heading for the storeroom. They jostled past Rebeka, who stepped back to let them pass, only to hear Kile shout.
"They're not pirates!" he blurted. People turned to see the boy standing to one side, holding an empty tray. McMurtry frowned, but Kile didn't stop. "And they're not called Greenlanders. Their nation is Kalaallit Nunaat! They show up every spring, trading seal meat and fruits from Europe for medicines and lumber!"
Kile's mother hurried forward and whispered to him. He glared at her. "Well, they're not!" he grumbled as she led him away.
McMurtry coughed. "Well, I'm glad to hear you've had good dealings with the people of the Arctic. Things can be different in different parts of the world. I know the Newfoundlanders aren't too happy with them." He laughed. "Anyway--"
"Excuse me?" Sergeant Baker was suddenly at Rebeka's side, staring at her. "Are you using an ocular implant?"
Rebeka blinked, then nodded. Baker took out what looked to Rebeka like a metal wand with an eyepiece on it. A light flashed on inside it. "May I?" Baker asked.
Rebeka nodded again, and Baker stepped her back, leaned close, and gently pressed Rebeka's eye open wider. She shone the light into Rebeka's pupil. Rebeka grunted as her implant flashed and flared.
"Sorry," Baker breathed. "How long have you had this?"
"I got it when I was four," Rebeka replied. "About a year before the Sea Wall fell."
"Huh." Baker shut off the light and leaned back. "Well, that explains it. Those things are not designed to last more than twenty years without regular maintenance, and you've made it last more than twenty-five!"
"Tell me about it," Rebeka grumbled. "My dads want me to go to the hospital in Attawapiskat, but what can they do about it?"
"Probably nothing except remove it," Baker replied. "But we can replace it in Toronto."
"What?" Rebeka stared at Baker. "You're telling me these things aren't extinct? Some of them survived the EMPs?"
Baker shrugged. "Not a lot of the old technology did, but some. We've stockpiled what we've found to use as spare parts." She looked Rebeka in her implanted eye. "Spare parts to fix exactly your problem."
For a moment, Rebeka stood speechless. Then, she whispered, "Wh-what would I have to do? Where would I have to go?"
Baker pulled a card from her pocket. "Take this. It's the address of Toronto General Hospital. Come to the city and make an appointment. We could see you within the day. It's as easy as that." She patted Rebeka's arm.
Then she moved on to her next patient, leaving Rebeka staring after her.
#
McMurtry and his soldiers stayed in town for two hours. Karen and others led groups down to the estuary, where the Torontonians stared at the docks where rowboats floated and gulls cried above them. Finally, McMurtry thanked everyone, announced that he had to return south, and gave a speech about reconnection and hope. The townsfolk cheered as, with two loud whistles, the government train departed.
The townsfolk watched it go, then turned to the crate McMurtry's people had delivered.
In the Meeting Hall, Brody brought a hammer and a crowbar. Soon, they had the lid off and were tossing aside paper packing fluff. People crowded in until Rebeka waved her arms. "Hey! Give us room!" The people backed up.
"Everything we needed to help with your lives here, they said," King muttered. "If they'd given us some notice, I'd have given them a list."
"I'm sure there's plenty of things we can use," said Brody.
"I didn't like what they said about the Kalaallit," Kile grumbled. "It's the Scandinavians who are pirates; them and that European Federation they're forming. The Kalaalit Nunaat have to deal with them all the time."
"It's politics, Kile," said his Mom.
"Politics can kill, Mom!"
Brody pulled aside a sheet. "Here we are!"
Townsfolk surged forward again before backing up from Rebeka's baleful glare.
However, everyone liked what they saw. Murmurs of appreciation rose at the metal cans, glass jars, and packages wrapped in wax paper. Brody sniffed the paper packages. "Beef jerky."
"Beef!" Liz exclaimed.
Karen gathered some of the packages into her arms. "That's going on the menu tonight. It will make a nice change from moose."
Brody sniffed another package. "Coffee!"
Karen dropped the jerky. "Back, everybody! Back!" She grabbed the packages. "I'll serve this up tomorrow morning. Bottomless cups all around, but only if you don't stampede!" This brought a cheer and some laughter from the townsfolk.
King looked deeper. "I'm seeing cabbages, zucchini, fruit preserves." Around him, people buzzed. Winter did not seem so cold now.
Rebeka pointed. "Dad, look at those jars. Are those medicines?"
King peered closer. "Yes! Antibiotics. Minerals. Multivitamins, and . . ." He pushed some jars aside, stopped, and then started laughing.
"What?" said Brody, as did others in the crowd.
"Elijah, what?" asked Karen.
"Dad?" said Rebeka.
He pulled something from the box and struggled to get his laughter under control. He held up a bottle. "They gave us Vitamin A!"
He started laughing again. This time, everyone joined in.
Karen and Brody passed packages to townsfolk, who hurried to the storeroom while King and Rebeka sorted through the rest of the crate. King removed the last item and swept his hand along the bottom of the crate. "That's all of it."
"Meat, vegetables, medicines, even candy and linens," said Brody. "Not a bad haul."
King looked up. "True. Not a bad haul." But he frowned.
Brody peered at him. "What's wrong?"
King said nothing. But for Rebeka, it clicked. "Everything we need to help us with our lives here," she echoed. "Any air canisters?"
King shook his head.
"Any rifle parts?" she asked.
"No," said King.
Karen halted. Brody raised his chin, realization dawning. "Any bullets?"
King looked grim. "No."
Silence descended on the Meeting Hall.
#
Rebeka crested a hill and hit a blessed downslope as the rail line eased into the canyon of the Abitibi River. The dynamos of her railbike whined as the regenerative braking kicked in. Blackflies smacked against her visor and snagged in the netting of her kaffiyah. She looked ahead at the bend that would reveal the old community of Otter Rapids and the ruins of the generating station there.
Ahead, she heard the whistle of the government train blowing around a distant curve.
#
"Everything we needed, they said," Brody said. "Didn't they know we're hunters?"
"Who isn't this far north?" Rebeka muttered in reply. She ran her rosary beads over her fingers.
King sucked his teeth. "No. Not everything we needed. Everything they thought we needed. Everything they thought it was safe to give us. So we would welcome them the next time. The chocolate and candy were a nice touch. I'm surprised they didn't offer roses."
#
On her railbike, Rebeca rounded a bend, and the ruins of Otter Rapids spread out before her, denuded hillsides, old foundations and broken dam abutments showing where the community had been. She pulled to a stop where the rails used to end and stared ahead.
More trees had been stripped from the hills above the high water line to build a long, winding, makeshift trestle snaking along the canyon wall, skirting the townsite. It was at least a kilometre long--one point two kilometres, her implant told her--before it passed the remains of the generating station, and the rails gripped the ground again.
At the other end of the long trestle, the government train slowed to a stop.
#
Mrs. Freisburg had leaned back against the crate. "Why wouldn't they give us any bullets?" The townsfolk didn't answer. She didn't blink; the answer was obvious. So she moved on. "What would they want that they're worried we'd say 'no' to?"
Karen stared at the ceiling. Brody fretted. King stared into the crate. Others shifted on their feet, nervous or disconsolate.
Rebeka's fingers stopped clicking. She looked up. "They want the Arctic." Everybody looked at her. "You heard them: there's resources up there. They'll need a port to access that, and we're the closest one they can get."
"How big a port?" Brody asked.
They stared out the station window at the battered, patched-up town, their homes, and the docks on the estuary a few blocks away.
"They'll need something that can handle a lot of goods," said King. "Something they can defend. You heard their cracks about 'Greenlanders.' They're not expecting the other players up north to play nice."
"They're not going to ask us for permission, are they?" said Brody.
"They may ask," said King. "But I don't think they're going to take 'no' for an answer."
#
Rebeka hopped off her railbike. Keeping low, she crept along the railbed to the start of the trestle and zoomed in on the government train.
Her implant flickered. She grunted, frustrated, and tapped her temple. Then she focused closer.
#
Kile yelled as, at the station, he pumped the pedals of the railbike. "Come on and help, Liz! It's been a half hour, and the battery's just at fifty percent!"
Liz hurried over to help.
Rebeka set down her box on the trailer behind the railbike. Behind her, King continued. "Follow them as far as you can. Don't let them see you. Your implant should allow you to spy on them from far enough back. Find out what they're not telling us. You need to see how they act when their guard is down."
She nodded, then, after a brief hesitation, gripped King's hand and Brody's and pulled them closer. "Dad? Other Dad? The medic, Sergeant Baker . . . She said they could fix my implant in Toronto."
Silence fell between them. Brody looked at King. "Elijah, if there's a chance--"
King looked at Rebeka. "Do you think there's a chance?"
Rebeka sucked in her breath. "I don't know. If they could fix it, I'd get it fixed, but . . . What if they want to hurt us--"
King straightened up. "You have to make the call." He looked grim. "I'm sorry, but you have to decide whether we can work with them or . . ." He looked at Brody.
"Or?" Rebeka prompted.
"Or . . ." Brody sighed. "If we need more time to prepare for them."
Rebeka bit her lip and looked at King, then at Brody. She took a deep breath. "All right."
#
Around the government train, soldiers fanned into the bushes, stamping around, some taking bathroom breaks. Others gathered around--what were those things? Mounds? Mounds on pallets, covered in tarps.
They'd cleared the land and stashed these items before going into town, she realized. As she watched, soldiers pulled aside one of the tarpaulins, and Rebeka tuned her zoom higher.
"That . . . is a big gun," she whispered.
Her implant pulled up information from before the fall of the Manhattan Sea Wall. Identification: Gomm Cogne 47, crowd-control configuration. Capable of sixty rounds per second, rubber buckshot.
The soldiers moved it toward the train, looking north as they did so.
She returned to the railbike, unhooked it from its trailer, and pulled it from the tracks. She set it in the ditch, then faced the trailer.
#
At the station, Rebeka grunted as she, King, and six other townsfolk hauled the trailer onto the tracks and hooked it to the railbike. "Does this have to be so heavy? It'll be agony getting this to Otter Rapids."
Mrs. Friesburg and Liz rolled up with a cart. "This is the last bit of blasting material we salvaged from Victor Mine."
"If they've rebuilt the line the way I think they have," said Brody, "We need to direct the force of the blast down at the tracks. This thing has to be as heavy as possible so it doesn't become an upward projectile."
"It will still become an upward projectile," said King. "Just not a good one. Either way, make sure you're not nearby when it goes."
Rebeka nodded. She and Karen and other townsfolk began moving the explosives onto the trailer.
Mrs. Freisburg faced south, took off her cracked glasses, and closed her eyes. "John."
#
At trackside, Rebeka pulled the trigger over to prime it, only to have it flash and spark in her hands. She yanked it free lest it set off the explosives beside her. "God dammit!" She looked at the connection, but the box got hot and started smoking in her hands. She tossed it into the ditch. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and looked at where the trigger used to connect with the fuse.
"Percussion fuse," she muttered. "I can work with that."
She braced her hands against the trailer, braced her feet against the ties, and pushed. The trailer moved, slowly at first. She took one step, then another. The trailer picked up speed on the incline. She pushed harder, stepped faster, then stumbled and fell face-first onto the ties.
The trailer kept rolling, rounding the curve, accelerating down the incline onto the long trestle.
Rebeka staggered to her feet, legs bleeding. She unslung her rifle and sighted down the barrel at the fuse. Her implant calculated distance, windspeed, trajectory.
She glanced at the soldiers and the government train. She saw McMurtry shaking his head at the crowd-control weapon.
"Sorry, government man," she muttered. "You may have offered us the carrot, but you still brought the stick." She counted down the seconds to her shot.
Then, her implant flashed white.
She yelled and clenched her eyes shut against the pain. It was worse than staring into the sun. She tried opening her unaltered eye, but it was no good. She couldn't focus.
She smacked her temple twice, then once more, and her implant switched off, leaving only darkness in her right eye, but thankfully, no more pain.
Growling, she switched her grip on her gun and sighted down the barrel with her left eye. The fuse blurred in her vision. Focus, she thought. Focus! She counted down.
At the other end of the trestle, someone shouted. She pulled the trigger.
The gun chuffed and shoved against her shoulder. A blink later, the trailer exploded. The blast pitched Rebeka onto the ballast.
For a moment, she stared at the sky with half her vision, listening as wood crackled and debris fell. Gradually, the buzz of blackflies and the chitter of birds returned, along with the rustle of pines.
She sat up.
The trestle, with its wood piled on wood, stood shaken and out of alignment, a huge chunk missing from its centre. Pieces burned. As she watched, piles broke away, knocking into other supports. Finally, with a groan and a rumble, the bridge came apart, tree trunks snapping like twigs as they avalanched into the canyon below.
Through the smoke and flames, Rebeka saw the government train on the other side of the gap. She saw McMurtry standing at the cab door. His shoulders sagged. Behind him, the train let out a long, mournful whistle that echoed off the hills.
And, across the hills, other whistles answered.
They weren't echoes. They varied in pitch. Rebeka counted them under her breath. "Three . . . four . . ." Some were faint with distance. "Seven . . . eight . . ." Others . . . others were close. "Eleven . . . twelve . . . "
Only then did the whistles stop, their howls fading to echoes, then silence.
McMurtry turned away. The soldiers climbed aboard. Slowly at first, then picking up speed, the government train vanished into the woods.
Follow Drew McMurtry's story with the short tale, Big Fish, Little Fish.