Worlds Between

by Nordgren, Carl;

The operator was on the line.

  “Yes, just a second. What’s the number?”

  “Kenora 4552.”

  The operator connected the call as the man handed the phone to Simon. He listened to it ring and ring and ring. He had never called the number though he had visited Tom Hall’s law offices a number of times with Maureen, or Brian, or both of them; as the phone continued to ring he realized it was Saturday and he had learned white men are not in their offices on Saturday. He was about to give up when a woman answered.

  “McCormick, Hall, and Roberts.”

  “Hello. I am calling for Tom Hall?”

  “He’s not here.”

  “Big Brian Burke told me to call him when I have an emergency message for him.”

  “Who is this?”

  “I am Simon Fobister. I am the grandson of Joe Loon. Big Brian said if I ever needed his help, I should call this number and ask for Tom Hall.”

  “This is Simon?”

  “Yes, I am Simon.”

  “Sure, we’ve met when you’ve been in the office. You say it’s an emergency?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you see, Mr. Hall was in this morning for a partners meeting but they’ve all just left. You’re lucky to catch me here, I was just ready to leave as well. Mr. Hall should arrive at his home in the next ten minutes or so. I will call his house and explain it is urgent that he call you as soon as he gets in.”

  Simon turned to the white men.

  “She is going to have Tom Hall call me here in ten minutes.”

  “Let me tell her how he’ll ring us up, eh.”

  A few minutes later Tom Hall called, learned what had happened, and promised to call Brian right away. Then Simon radioed the Hudson’s Bay Post, asked the shopkeeper to name who was in the store, and they identified someone who could get the message to Albert Loon that Simon needed to speak with him.

  While they waited for the return calls, one of the white men fetched the first aid kit to clean and bandage Simon’s head wound. Then Simon asked them if they had leather cord or strong twine so he could repair his snowshoe.

  Brian stood at the table set up to promote both The Great Lodge at Innish Cove and North Ontario Airlines. There were over a hundred tables for lodges and camps, outfitters and guides, organized row after row, and the aisles were filled with fathers and young sons, fathers and adult sons, old fishing buddies, new fishing buddies, hunt club members, very few wives, and even fewer daughters.

  Brian was leafing through a photo album with a father and his boy; he used his Big Irish accent to tell them about the wilderness fishing experience that awaited them at The Great Lodge at Innish Cove.

  He turned to the last pages of the album to show the photograph of Ernest Hemingway, holding his trophy northern pike, and the father turned to the boy.

  “You’re looking at the world’s greatest outdoorsman, Guy. That’s Ernest Hemingway, the writer. He loves to hunt, he loves to fish, and then he writes great stories about it.”

  “This photo is from this past summer, in August. He says he’s comin’ back again next season—” Brian was interrupted by a man in a hotel jacket.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Burke, but there’s a phone call at the front desk. They say it’s an emergency.”

  Brian left the father and son standing there as he turned quickly to step rapidly, weaving his way through the crowded aisles; he called back over his shoulder to the man in the hotel jacket.

  “Who’s callin’?”

  The man in the hotel jacket was trying to keep up but was losing ground.

  “Pardon me?”

  “I said who called?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Brian walked faster as he roared and heads turned, and the crowd parted for him.

  “You don’t know! Who said it was an emergency?”

  “Sorry, they didn’t tell me, they just said to find you, fast.”

  Brian left the ballroom to cross the lobby to the front desk. There was a look of concern on the woman’s face as she stood behind the counter; he got madder still as he snatched the phone from her hand when she offered it.

  To her he said, “Go get your manager!” and to the phone he said “It’s Brian.”

  He was greatly relieved when he heard it wasn’t bad news about Maureen. He listened to all his attorney knew about Joe Loon and Simon’s predicament, and when Tom Hall finished he remembered that the Ontario Department of Lands and Forests had Bell 47 helicopters, and that at least one was outfitted with pontoons. They could fly in and get them, if they would fly in and get them.

  “I know a good man named Dillon, the Regional Fire Protection Supervisor within the Department. I’ll track him down as quick as I can and see if I can make the case for a rescue with him.”

  “Thanks. Keep me appraised.”

  The two dam operators had listened in when Simon described to Tom Hall about the two layers of ice and how they were formed and how Joe Loon’s injury occurred and about their escape from the world between. When Simon was off the phone one white man finished bandaging his head, the other one asked to hear more about what it was like to be in between the two layers of ice.

  “Yaway, it was a beautiful dream place. But it was frightening. I thought we were dead. My grandfather wasn’t sure. We thought this was the beginning of the journey on the Path of Souls traveling through Northern Lights.”

  “Really?”

  “The lights are dancing and swirling all around you. Blue light and green. Red lights. This should be called Rainbow Lake… ah, gee, it was beautiful.”

  “Wow. We got to check this out, eh Pete. Let’s go down in there, in between the ice, tomorrow, once the storm has passed.”

  Simon shook his head. “You do not want to do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It was beautiful. Ah gee, it was very beautiful. But you feel trapped in between. Then you feel the death there and you have to get out.”

  “Na, that’s just how you felt because at first you thought you were dead.”

  “Yeah, if I knew I could get out, then I wouldn’t feel trapped.”

  “I have not told you about the animals.”

  “What animals?”

  “There are animals trapped in between that cannot get out.”

  “What did you see?”

  “Many dead deer. There was a moose that was so afraid in this world in between he was following a wolf for comfort. Those who lived here before this dam was built, the forest animals, and us, we are all confused by what is happening to our home. Now there are animals dying because they are hurt when they fall through the ice and they are trapped in between.”

  “Ah, how many?”

  “When did you drop the water from the highest level?”

  “Jesus, it was about a month ago.”

  “We saw many dead. We saw others dying.”

  “How many?”

  “Too many.”

  The phone rang. Tom Hall had both kinds of news. Dillon was a good man, and he readily committed a helicopter and rescue team to get Joe Loon out. But the weather prevented immediate action; the snowstorm had the area socked in good, and it looked like it would snow until nightfall. So they were planning to be in the air at dawn the next day if the sky was clear as expected.

  Tom Hall promised to continue to monitor the situation regularly, to keep Brian informed, and to establish direct radio contact between the pilot and the dam operators.

  Simon shared the news with the two white men.

  “There’s a spot on the other side of the dam where a helicopter could land.”

  “I will need help getting my grandfather to the dam.”

  “We have to stay here, but there will be a rescue team with the helicopter.”

  Simon stood as the idea occurred to him.

  “The pilot will break the ice.”

  “Break the ice?”

  “The top layer of ice. We will release the Northern Lights. No more deer or moose wil
l fall to die when the top ice is gone. When the top ice is gone, the helicopter can land on the solid ice near shore where my grandfather will be waiting.”

  “So how do we break all that ice?”

  “The pilot will use the helicopter.”

  Simon finished fixing the binding on his snowshoe with a bit of leather cord one of the white men found for him and was preparing to head back to his grandfather to care for him and tell him of the rescue plan.

  Simon said goodbye and gave his thanks, then stepped outside into the heavy snowfall.

  “Hold on a minute. I know where there are some extra blankets.”

  The white man returned with one folded blanket under his arm while he was folding the second. He handed them to Simon, who held them to his chest as he headed out to return to Joe Loon.

  After he was out of sight from the two white men Simon unfolded one of the blankets and wrapped it around him as he walked along the shore between the trees and over the snow.

  He was confident the repaired binding would hold.

  Before long, it stopped snowing.

  He felt he was making good time, but he didn’t know this place, the shoreline wasn’t familiar, and the day’s hard snow made it less so, drifted here, piled on rocks, bending small firs with boughs holding full loads, and it was so very bright in the sun. Once Simon could no longer see the dam behind him as a measure of his progress he grew uncertain of where he was in his return to the shelter.

  When he guessed he might be near enough he called out to Joe Loon, sending his shout up the shoreline through the trees. Then he stepped out on the ice and called out over the lake. There was no reply. It wasn’t until he walked on much further and called the fourth time that he heard Joe Loon’s voice in reply, though still at a distance.

  The sun was descending, less than an hour of dusky daylight remained. There was barely any wind. Simon trudged on until he could see a faint wisp of smoke floating out over the lake up ahead from Joe Loon’s fire, and he walked as fast as he could in the snow calling again.

  “Grandfather.”

  “I am here.”

  When Simon could smell the smoke he began to speak of what was important.

  “Big Brian is sending a helicopter in the morning.”

  Simon stepped past two more trees for a full view of the shelter and of his grandfather. He could see the snow walls were taller, and when he approached he saw his grandfather sat on a full cushion of pine boughs. The fire pit was partly framed with stones. All around the outside of the shelter the snow was flattened by his grandfather scooting along or dug up to find fire wood and stone. Simon smiled as he entered and found a second cushion of pine boughs for him. He took off his snowshoes, sat down preparing to tell his grandfather about his trip to the dam, but Joe Loon spoke first.

  “You must tell the helicopter pilot to break all the false ice before he takes us away. He must release the death.”

  “Yes, Grandfather. That is what we will do.”

  Simon removed one of the blankets he’d wrapped over his shoulders to hand it to his grandfather.

  “Where did you get those blankets?”

  “From the white man. He gave them to me.”

  When Kevin returned to the farmhouse Maureen was fixing an evening meal from the supplies he brought earlier. He sat down and began to share the new information he’d retrieved. She interrupted.

  “Stop. You’re worn to your core. Let’s decide we won’t lose the fight tonight if you allow yourself one even’ of peace an’ quiet.”

  Kevin took Maureen’s hand as his shoulders slumped.

  “Thanks Lady Girl. You lead, and I’ll do as told. I’m going to eat, and I’m going to bed.”

  “I have an idea, for a quick thrust at Stormont…” he perked up “…but as I say, the fight’ll be waitin’ in the mornin’.”

  “Yes, it will.”

  “Take rest now; I’ll wake you when supper is ready.”

  He sat quietly, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

  Simon returned with another load of wood. He added it to the large stack he had already collected, built the fire’s blaze, then sat down next to Joe Loon at the fireside.

  On the other side of his grandfather sat Grandmother and Young Sister.

  Joe Loon told Simon to build a larger fire than usual since they expected this was their last night, and because this fire wasn’t just to keep them warm. It had a special function.

  Folded in front of Joe Loon were the two blankets Simon brought back from the dam.

  “Many men from my grandfather’s village went to work in the gold mines. The white man who worked there gave my grandfather many good things. The big pot Nokomis uses when we make Anishinaabe Ziinzibakwad, this pot was given to my grandfather by the white man who worked these mines. This is why we know the white man of the mines were not trying to kill our people when they gave us the pox blankets.”

  Grandmother and Young Sister began to pray.

  Simon added more wood and fanned the flames.

  “So many of our people died from the pox blankets. When you see their names on the Ancestor’s Wall you cry for those who died. Then you cry for those who lived.”

  Simon picked up the top blanket and fed it into the blaze, standing over the fire using a stick to nudge the blanket into the flames to effectively consume the cloth, reducing it to a rough ash and pieces of scorched wool.

  Grandmother and Young Sister continued their prayer. Joe Loon sat quietly, his eyes closed, listening for the ancestors.

  As Simon fed the second blanket to the flames he spoke to his grandfather.

  “When the white man built this dam, they did not mean to harm our people or our brothers. But we must always be careful around them. It means giving up more of our forests to the white man, but to be safe we must never come back here again.”

  Maureen was finishing cleaning up after supper and Kevin sat at the table sipping the cup of tea she fixed for him. She turned and toweled her hands.

  “Where’s the nearest telephone box?”

  “There’s one two kilometers towards town, at the cross roads with the first petrol station.”

  “I’ve got to call Brian.”

  “There is one thing you do need to know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ve been able to confirm it. We have an infiltrator that we didn’t know about.”

  “I figured that out already.”

  “We think it’s the Armagh brigade, but we’re not certain.”

  “Could it be one of yours?”

  “I think all my lads are true.”

  “But you’re not sure.”

  “I’ve been wrong about other things, but never about that… No, I’m not sure. As of this moment I’m not sure about anyone.”

  The look they shared was a new one for them. It was the first time Maureen didn’t see the man promising to keep her safe. And he knew she saw it. “I just wanted you to factor that into your scheme. I’ll be asleep when you get back from your call.”

  “Have a good rest.”

  Once again, Brian and the others were in the hotel diner when Maureen called, but this time the hotel manager sent a clerk to track them down. Brian picked up Grace and followed the clerk to the front desk; they forwarded the call to a lobby telephone.

  Brian had Grace answer it.

  “When are you coming home?”

  “Oh, my Gracie girl. I miss you so much. Are you havin’ fun with Lil’ Stevie in the hotel?”

  “I’m having lots of fun. We saw a gorilla. And we went to this other place, it was like a zoo for fish, where they have different fishes from around the world in big glass cages. And we got to ride on a train that drives up in the sky. I miss you. When are you coming home?”

  “Soon sweetheart, soon. Is Mary takin’ good care of you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is Da there?”

  “He’s here next to me. Do you want to talk to him?”

 
“Yes, please.”

  Brian took the phone from his daughter.

  “Hello.”

  “Brian, honey, I’m sorry I haven’t called like I promised.”

  Brian’s voice was cold, hard. “I’m sure you have good reasons.”

  “You got my message I called yesterday?”

  “I got the message.”

  “You’re angry.”

  “I can’t tell you how I feel right now.”

  “I just got so busy, attendin’ to birthdays an’ plannin’ communion parties.”

  “Sure.”

  Brian looked up and saw that Dutch and the others were coming his way.

  “Say goodbye to Gracie, an’ then you an’ I can talk.”

  He handed the phone back to his daughter.

  “I want you to come home right now.”

  “Oh, Gracie girl, I wish I could. I’ll be home very soon though, and I will hold you, hold you, hold you.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you.”

  Brian waited until Grace was gone with the group.

  “I was scared, Maureen. I thought somethin’ must have happened to you. Why else wouldn’t you call your daughter for nearly four days.”

  “I think it was more like two an’ a half—”

  “You don’t want to play that game with me right now.”

  “What game?”

  “Where you’re always right an’ happy to point out where I’m wrong.”

  “I don’t want to play any games with you Brian.”

  “Well, do you have anythin’ you want to ask me, or tell me?”

  “The shows are goin’ well?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you taken Dutch to our blues clubs yet?”

  “We are plannin’ on doin’ that tonight.”

  “Brian, my time is runnin’ out. I’m callin’ from a public phone box an’ have but a minute or so left. Please say somethin’ nice to me.”

  “As soon as you return.”

  “Brian, please.”

  “I love you, but I feel abandoned by you right now, so I’m afraid that’s the best I can give you.”

  “I’ll get home as soon as I can.”

  “Alright then. Thanks for callin’. Say hi to your mum.”

  “I will.”