Dearly Departing

by Geoff North

  “Don’t you start. Your room isn’t in much better condition.”

  Raymond raised his hands in defeat and started backing down the steps. He wandered around the perimeter of the house first, looking to see if Alicia had found a nice spot in the shade to play with her dolls. His search spread out from there, taking him again to the back yard. She wasn’t by the swing set or near the oak tree where his pile of comic books and Coke waited. He called out her name and listened. He yelled it as loud and long as he could then shut his eyes to hear the distant reply.

  Nothing.

  This wasn’t like Alicia. She was too young to go very far. Raymond remembered the slough fiasco and shook his head. She would never go back there, not in a million-zillion years. But she was nowhere around near-by, and Raymond’s annoyed mood gave way to a mild sense of worry. Where had she gone?

  He started looking in the buildings farther away from the house. She wasn’t in the old garage where their father parked the broken farm machinery. It was one of those places even Raymond didn’t like exploring on his own. It smelled of old diesel fuel and dirt, and there were no working lights inside. The remains of a monstrous combine sat there in the shadows. Raymond didn’t think it was entirely impossible the thing could roar to life at any moment and run him over. Alicia would’ve chosen the slough before venturing inside here. He called her name again softly and waited by the big sliding door a few seconds longer.

  Again nothing.

  Raymond went to the tool shed next. He fumbled in the shadows and threw up a light switch. Alicia hadn’t been in here. Raymond didn’t need to be any kind of fancy detective to figure that out. His little sister was a lot like him, as in she didn’t care much for the farming part of growing up on a farm. Unlike David and Bruce, Raymond and Alicia didn’t help their father out that much. They were too young, and too disinterested. He turned the light off and backed out through the door without calling her name.

  There was a chicken coop attached to the east side of the shed. Maybe Alicia had gone to gather eggs and stayed longer to visit the hens. His sister was famous for talking to animals and getting her clothes filthy by sitting in the dirt amongst them. Raymond looked for her there but came up empty handed again. A group of brown hens pecked at bits of seed and shit on the ground. One or two clucked at him suspiciously and fluttered off when he shook the wire fence in frustration.

  That only left one place—the abandoned pig barn. Raymond made his way slowly towards the big building. It had been built back in the early sixties by a small consortium of local farmers, including Raymond’s father and grandfather. The barn had been constructed on Wallace property, and the partners had bought the livestock to fill it. There had been a few years when things went very well. It could accommodate up to three-hundred animals, and it was always full. Everyone profited, and the building was quickly paid for. But the market eventually crashed and all of Thomas Wallace’s business partners packed up and left, heading back into the fields to grow wheat and canola. When the seventies rolled around there were only a dozen or so pigs left in the barn, and Raymond’s father was the only one left looking after them.

  By the time Raymond turned ten, the pigs were all gone. The big, empty barn was now just that—big and empty, a hulking grey shell of peeling paint with an interior skeleton of rusting rebar pens and rotted straw. Alicia wouldn’t come here, he thought.

  Raymond pulled on the wooden door handle and entered the structure. He called his sister’s name softly. More silence. To his right were four large storage bins where the feed had been kept. They were all empty now save for a few blackened corners where the rats and mice crapped. Raymond looked to his left, into the dusty mechanical room. Two giant water heater tanks loomed over him, a third had fallen over onto its cylindrical side. It had been pushed over by David and Bruce in an attempt to frighten Raymond and Alicia during one of their hide and seek games a few years earlier.

  There was an electrical panel box with its door half opened next to the water tanks. Raymond opened it further, studying the vertical rows of dusty black switches and the corresponding labels written in faded blue ink. He used to imagine them as controls to some mighty space ship that traveled from galaxy to galaxy. He clicked a few of them off and on again. They made a satisfying snapping sound, but nothing more. The power had been cut years before. The pig barn had been abandoned of its original purpose to raise livestock, but it still served a secondary function well—to fuel the fear and imagination of those that visited it afterwards. It was the ultimate place to play in.

  He closed the power-box door. It made a loud, dry squeal of protest.

  “Raymond?”

  It was Alicia. She sounded far away, her voice was muffled. Raymond left the mechanical room and pushed through another heavy wooden door to his left. This was the heart of the building—the pens. Raymond walked down the center corridor towards the end of the barn. He spread his arms out and felt the corrugated bars of iron running along his fingertips. It’s where the pigs used to live. And after the pigs had gone, Raymond used to pretend it was where the intergalactic criminals were held aboard his space ship. He was like some kind of space sheriff, jumping from star to star, wrangling murderous aliens into his prison-pens along the way.

  “Alicia... you in here?”

  The barn was dark inside. There were only two windows, and both had been covered over from the outside with plywood. One of the plywood sheets had fallen partially, allowing a triangular slit of light in along the west side. The remaining light came in from behind Raymond where he’d left the door open.

  “I’m down here.”

  He found her sitting in a pile of straw inside the last pen on the right. Something wasn’t right. It was hard to see much of anything in the gloom. Raymond sensed she was hiding something, but the strange squeaking sound had frightened her. He pushed through four-foot high pen door and stood in front of her. “What’re you doing in here?”

  “Nothing. I was just gettin’ ready to come back to the house.”

  “What are you waiting for then?” He asked. The girl hadn’t moved. She remained sitting cross-legged in a patch of dusty concrete where the moldy straw had been swept away. “Let’s go.”

  “Maybe in a little while. I’m kinda tired.”

  Raymond couldn’t see her hands. She was hiding them behind her back. “You’re kinda full of crap. What have you got back there?”

  “Nothing!”

  He sniffed the air. The pig barn had never smelled nice, it was stale and unpleasant, a twelve year old stewing pot of pig shit, rotted feed, rusty water, and dust. But there was something else in that stink. Something sharper, something much more recent. “Did you fart?”

  “No!”

  Raymond squatted down in front of her and saw faint streaks in the dusty cement at her feet. The sulphuric smell was stronger by the floor. He touched one of the powdery marks and sniffed his fingers. “You’ve been lighting matches.”

  “Please don’t tell.” Tears were streaming down her freckled face. “Please don’t tell on me.”

  “I can’t keep this secret. You could’ve burned the whole damn barn to the ground.”

  “I won’t do it again, I swear. Please don’t tell.”

  Raymond hesitated. He was her big brother. She looked up to him. She relied on him. “Not this time, Alicia. You gotta take responsibility for this.” He grabbed hold of her arm and started to haul his sister up to her feet. She tried pulling away. The remaining hand hidden behind her back scratched at the floor. A half dozen un-struck matchsticks trailed behind. One was stuck between two sweaty fingers, the sulphur end pointing down. It scraped along the pavement and ignited, throwing sparks into the dry straw a few inches away.

  Alicia yelped as the flame licked at her palm and she shook her hand. The burning match fell into her shirt and stuck there. Raymond released her, and she fell back into the straw. The dust kicked up and the small fire flared. Raymond would never forget that awful sound�
��a low, deadly whump as the flames found fuel to spread. Alicia screamed and batted at the fire melting the fabric of her tee-shirt away and sticking to the soft skin of her stomach and chest. She thrashed her legs and the flames in the straw rose up around her. They enveloped her.

  Raymond was on his knees attempting to drag her away from the worst of it. He needed to get her out of the straw, he had to roll her over and snuff out the flames. The fire would have no part of it. The orange flames were roaring through the straw pile and climbing up the wall. He clutched at her ankles and tried dragging her back, but the girl’s thrashing was so frantic he couldn’t hold on. She kicked him away and Raymond landed on his back. The smoke was beginning to choke him. It stung at his eyes and made breathing almost impossible. And through it all, Alicia screamed.

  He tried crawling back for her one last time, but he could no longer see where she was. The flames had become a roaring beast, breathing in the last of the fresh air and exhaling deadly white smoke. Raymond cried for his sister as he backed away. He flopped over onto his stomach and crawled along the dirty concrete floor the way he’d come, yelling her name over and over. Why wasn’t she answering? Why had she stopped screaming?

  Why was he leaving her there?

  Raymond eventually found the door leading into the mechanical room. Not much further. I can make it. The fire was roaring behind him like a locomotive from hell, gaining on him. It would melt the plastic off his running shoes first and grab onto his ankles. It would lick the faded blue jeans away from his legs and bite into his flesh. It would suck him in whole, consume him. Raymond gasped for air and inhaled the dust that scraped along his forehead, nose, and lips.

  I should stop struggling. I should let it take me. Like I let it take her.

  Self-preservation made him struggle on. Raymond continued crawling and clutching and gasping. His fingers fell into something soft. Grass. He was outside, enveloped in a billowing cloud of escaping smoke. With all the strength left in him, Raymond sprung up and started to run. It was more of a lurching, spasmodic kind of sprint, but it was movement. He kept going until he found the trees. Raymond clung to a thick poplar trunk and started sinking back down to his knees. He inhaled the fresh air and hacked out the smoke. It became an uncontrollable retching. The poison leaked from his eyes and nostrils, trails of saliva hung from his chin. Raymond gasped, and the choking coughs took hold again. He looked up and saw blue sky through the fluttering leaves and smoke. Raymond wanted to thank God for saving his life, and he wanted to curse him for sparing it.

  The old pig barn was a monstrous construct of wood filled with rotted straw, abandoned feed, and dried shit. Within minutes it started to collapse in on itself.

  Raymond watched from the safety of the shelterbelt over a hundred feet away. Even there, the heat was a powerful thing. He wiped tears from his eyes and black snot from his lips and chin.

  My sister’s in there. She didn’t make it out. I killed her… I killed Alicia.

  “I killed my little sister.”

  Dawn didn’t say a word. The story of her aunt’s final agonizing moments had left her completely speechless. She could only wrap one arm around her father’s shaking shoulders.

  Ray unclicked his seatbelt and broke the silence. “You better take over for a while. I can’t drive like this.” He stepped outside. The wind felt cold against his wet face. Ray leaned against the hood of the car on his way to the other side. Dawn reached for his hand and tried to offer comfort. He pushed her away gently. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I didn’t know what kind of effect that would have on me. Saying it out loud, after all these years.”

  “Maybe sharing it with me will bring you some peace of mind.”

  He shook his head and wept a bit more. “Never told anyone. Not your mom. Nobody.”

  “It was an accident. Your parents forgave you. Now you can forgive yourself.”

  He stared at his daughter with a terrible look of guilt. “They didn’t forgive me. I never told them. I lied. Said I saw the fire break out from the back yard. I’ve kept that secret for so long.”

  She tried to hug him, but Raymond pushed her away again. They stayed that way for a long time, leaning against the hood, the cold prairie wind blowing over them.

  Dawn finally went to the driver’s side and sat. She pulled the seat forward and turned the key in the ignition. There was a loud grinding noise four feet ahead of her. Ray sat in the seat next to her. She tried again, the car squawked, but the engine wouldn’t turn over. Ray reached quickly and pulled her hand from the keys before she could attempt it a third time. “Sounds like the starter’s screwed. When’s the last time you had this thing serviced?”

  “What do you mean by serviced? I take it to the garage all the time for gas and stuff.”

  “Gas and stuff… You have no idea what looking after a vehicle means, do you?” Ray took a deep breath, rubbed his temples, and shook his head. “Okay, forget what you know or what you don’t know about cars. Pop the hood.”

  Dawn looked at him as if he were speaking a different language. “I… don’t know how to do that.”

  Ray sighed again and reached past his daughter’s knees, finding the hood release lever. “Okay, let’s go see what we can see.”

  Chapter 9

  Ray suspected the starter was fine, but the alternator was more than likely shot. He checked the oil—bone dry—and closed the hood. Dawn’s car wouldn’t be going anywhere for quite some time.

  “Can we call someone?” She asked from the side of the road. “You know, like those guys that come and pick you up when your car breaks down.”

  “Roadside Assistance? I guess we don’t have much of a choice.”

  No sooner had Ray spoken the words when a big semi rumbled to a stop beside their broken down car. Its long trailer was filled with cattle. Dozens of the animals were pressed up against the thick aluminum bars, their black wet noses pressed between the slats, their brown eyes terror filled. The passenger window on the cab slid down, and a bald head appeared. “You folks need a hand?”

  Ray shook his head. “We were going to call for a tow truck when you pulled up.”

  “You’re looking at a three hour wait at the very least.” The driver grunted, his head dipped down momentarily, and the passenger door opened. “Put the call in for a tow, and feel free to ride with me. I’m going as far as Calgary if that helps any.”

  Ray looked at Dawn and spoke quietly. “Normally I wouldn’t accept rides from strangers, but I have no desire to sit here and wait that long. You okay with that?”

  His daughter shrugged. “Works for me.”

  The trucker’s name was Murray Bertrand, and he talked non-stop from the broken Cruze all the way through the rest of Saskatchewan, and into Alberta. Ray and Dawn didn’t mind. It was a pleasant, though boring, break from the heavy thoughts weighing them down.

  “End of the line,” Murray announced. He’d pulled over to the side of the highway on the outskirts of Calgary next to a turnoff into an industrialized area. He pointed straight ahead. “The Chevy dealership you called is three and a half blocks that-away. I know a few of the mechanics, good boys. They’ll set you up with a courtesy ride if you want. And then there’s a car rental place right opposite, if you prefer. Don’t sound like your little Cruze will be fixed in time if you’re in a hurry to get all the way to the Okanagan.”

  Ray wasn’t in that big of a rush. “Any decent hotels nearby?”

  “There’s a Best Western a couple more blocks north of the dealership. It’s been fun riding with you folks. Thanks for listening to my tall tales. Hope all goes well with your mother.” He stuck his hand out and Ray gave it a quick shake.

  They watched him drive away and then started walking. “Nice guy,” Dawn said, slinging her pack over one shoulder. “Boring stories, but a nice guy.”

  At least his stories weren’t like mine, Ray thought darkly. No one got killed in any of them.

  The mechanics were good boys, as Mu
rray had promised, but Ray wasn’t convinced they were all that honest. Dawn’s Cruze wouldn’t get towed in until later that night, and even though they only had Ray’s description of the problem, they were already making astronomical quotes. They bypassed the courtesy car and went straight across to the rental place before settling into a couple of rooms at the Best Western.

  “You didn’t have to get me my own room,” Dawn said, as they locked their doors and headed out for something to eat.

  “There’s nothing worse than sharing a hotel room with your father.”

  “Well, there are a few other things.” She laughed and whacked him on the shoulder. “You gotta stop throwing money around like this.”

  “It’s only money.”

  “That sounds like something Mom would’ve said.”

  “Yeah,” he replied quietly as they started across an intersection. “She sure loved spending my money.”

  There was a Burger King and a Subway to choose from on the next block. They could’ve gone back for the car and driven to some place nicer, but they were both starving and tired. Subway it was. “How much farther to Grummy’s?”

  “You mean the hospital,” he corrected. “It’s about eight hours away, ten if we take our time and stop at a few spots in the mountains to take pictures.”

  “I’d like that. When do you think they’ll be done with my car?”

  “Probably later in the afternoon tomorrow, more likely the morning after.” Ray wiped his face with a paper napkin. “I don’t feel like waiting around. “We’ll set out in the rental and pick your car back up on the way back.”

  “How long, well… when do think that might be?”

  Ray knew what she was getting at. When did he expect Grummy to die. “As long as it takes, unless you’re in a hurry to get back home.”

  “No hurry.” There was a cold beer vendor across from the Subway with a sports bar behind. Ray considered crossing the street for a six-pack but changed his mind. He didn’t need to drink that badly, and he didn’t want to give his daughter any ideas either. They headed back to the hotel, planned for an eight AM departure, and went to their rooms.