by Nancy Hartry
Slash hoisted the potatoes on his shoulder and dropped the sack with a thud beside the picnic table. He took a dagger sheathed in leather from inside his boot and sliced the burlap string. When he yanked it, smooth yellow potatoes tumbled to the ground. He picked one up and sniffed deeply, then tossed it to Kerry. “Catch! Nothing like the smell of potatoes fresh out of the ground. Earthy, you know what I mean?”
Kerry examined the potato. It was well washed, with only a few pesky eyes she’d have to gouge out with the peeler. The skin, thin and flaky, looked easy to peel.
Slash went back to the kitchen and returned with a scrub basin full of water. He set it down on the ground, midway along the bench seat of the table. “You two can practice your basketball shots.”
“That’ll be the day,” said Yvette.
One by one, Slash picked up the paring knives spread on the table and tested them with his thumb, grimacing as if someone had insulted him. He pulled a stone from the back pocket of his jeans, dunked it in the potato water, and started to sharpen the blade of a knife.
“Rolf did that yesterday,” said Kerry.
“Each day around here is like a regular week. Needs to be done again.”
Talking about knives with Slash felt like talking about drinking around an alcoholic—awkward and dangerous. Kerry didn’t know how to change the subject so she concentrated on peeling a potato.
“You get a worse cut with a dull knife than a sharp one,” he said.
The sun glinted off the blade. Kerry shifted down the bench to protect her eyes.
“Me sharpening these knives, is that bothering you?”
“Speaking for myself, yes, you’re bugging my ass!” said Yvette. “You can leave anytime.”
“Could but won’t. Old Rolf’s taken a shine to me and this is a good job with lots of hours. If there’s something I’m doing wrong, let me know and I’ll try and fix it. No promises, though.”
“Your presence bothers me.” Yvette’s eyes never left the scars exposed below the wristbands of his long-sleeved shirt. “Sorry, I missed your name.”
“Slash will do. Thank you for being straight up. I like my women straight up.”
Kerry traded her knife for the one that Slash just sharpened. If she kept her hands busy, she could listen to the two of them sniping at each other without participating.
“So refined of you, Monsieur Slash-and-Burn,” said Yvette. “What gives with the cutting?”
Kerry felt her face flame. Now he knew she’d been talking about him behind his back.
“I explained that to your young friend, and that’s all I have to say on the subject. I’m trusting it won’t come up again.” Slash tested the second paring knife with his thumb. “Now, this is a honey.” He handed it to Yvette, handle first. “Careful, little lady. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He swaggered up the steps carrying a tub of peeled potatoes, his skinny black form etched against the smoke reaching from the ground high into the blue, blue sky.
“He knows we’re watching his skinny ass,” said Yvette. “He reminds me of a water snake, so quiet and slippery.”
Slash turned around. “Did you girls ever see the movie The Bodyguard?” They nodded. “I could be your Kevin Costner. I mean, there’s only two of you, and all those men out there. If you need protecting, I’m your man. I know how to handle myself. If you need me, just whistle.”
Yvette burst out laughing. “You’re kidding, a nut-bar like you?”
“Suit yourself.” He carried the tub of potatoes into the kitchen.
“Don’t let him get you going, Kerry,” Yvette warned. “His knight-in-shining-armor routine is just a trick to get into your pants.”
“Doubt it. He’s always watching the men at dinner, making sure they don’t come near us. He may look rough but he seems legit. Why do you always think the worst of people just because they’re different?” Kerry stood up and walked around to the other side of the table, with her back to Yvette. They finished the hundred-pound sack of potatoes in silence.
When she finally got a break that afternoon, Kerry was slippery with sweat and the lake water looked cool and clean. She set the laundry basket on the dock. Who needs a bathing suit? She kicked off her work boots and did a shallow dive off the dock. The water was soft, like brown velvet, and she backstroked lazily to the center of the lake. She let her legs drop to test how deep it was and her toes touched some weeds. I wonder if there are fish in this lake? She swam to a gray stump sticking out of the water, gripped it, and, face down, blew bubbles and flutter-kicked. It felt good on her legs, better than physiotherapy. I should do this every day! There are benefits to being here, that’s for sure. It’s so peaceful, so freeing to swim in water like this, under such a stunning blue sky. She imagined she was an otter and dove down three feet, opening her eyes and being dazzled by the shaft of sunlight reaching below the surface and disappearing under her body.
She hated to get out of the water, but there was laundry to do. Laughing like a little kid, she shook herself off and walked barefoot back to the trailer to change.
“The water is fantastic,” she said to Matt as he came out of his room. “You should go for a swim.”
“I don’t think so.” He took her arm and looked at her closely. Then he ordered her to go with him to the kitchen, where they found Slash and Yvette stacking plates. Slash doubled over, laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Kerry asked, trying to straighten her hair.
“She doesn’t have a clue, this one!” Slash wheezed.
Rolf was also trying hard not to laugh. He picked up the big kitchen saltshaker. “Close your eyes, Kerry, while I douse you with this.”
“Salt? What for? What’s the matter with you people?”
She felt Rolf sprinkling salt on her neck, then on her throat and behind her ear, and finally on her forehead. “Looking good,” he said. She could feel him peeling something off her skin with a paper towel. “Shriveling up nicely.”
“What’s shriveling?” Kerry’s eyes sprang open.
“Leeches.”
“What are leeches?”
Rolf opened the paper towel up to show her five disgusting black blobs. “Five big, fat bloodsuckers stuck like Band-Aids to that beautiful face of yours.”
“Oh my God! Gross! Are they gone?”
“You’re okay, Kerry,” said Yvette. “But if they stay on long enough, they’ll leave—”
“A love bite!” said Slash.
“What about the rest of me?” Kerry tried to look at the backs of her legs.
The others dropped to their haunches and had her turn around as they examined her bare skin, including between her toes. Rolf whistled and began picking at the skin on her legs. Yvette gently lifted Kerry’s T-shirt and put it back down.
“Time to hit the showers, girlfriend.”
“Stop laughing! What else is wrong?”
“Kerry, only you would put your hand in a nest of baby leeches. You’re covered,” Matt said.
“Ohhh! Get them off me! Get them off me!” Kerry was running on the spot and swiping at her legs with her hands.
“They’re too small to hold on so they can’t hurt you,” Matt assured her. “Did you never wonder why no one swam in that lake?”
“Well, now she knows,” said Rolf. “She learned the hard way. Take the salt, just in case.”
“Don’t laugh at me! This isn’t funny!” Kerry said, trying not to cry.
“Rite of passage, darlin’,” Slash told her. “We’ve all been there, more or less. You’re just late to the party. You’re gonna be fine.”
Next morning, Rolf was standing in the middle of the kitchen staring into space. Smoke from the bacon was beginning to mingle with the fire smoke suspended in the air. Kerry grabbed a spatula and moved the bacon to the edges of the grill. “Earth to Rolf. What’s the matter?”
“This here’s a memo from the new fire boss saying he’s decided to impose shifts in the camp, and you girls are now on separate shifts.
Never heard of such a thing.”
Kerry plunked down hard on a stool. “He can’t do that!” She fanned her face with a dish towel.
“That new fire boss, he’s really pissing me off. He’s gone way too far,” said Yvette. Kerry watched her tear out of the room, not hearing Rolf yell that he’d talk to him about it.
“I’d better go with her.”
Mr. Sirois, the fire boss, was at his desk, writing in a journal, when Yvette startled him and his fountain pen streaked across the page.
“Now look what you’ve done.” His face was red and blotchy. “And you too,” he said to Kerry, who was trying to catch her breath.
“Sorry, sir. We’re here about your decision to split us up. We can’t be on separate shifts,” Yvette said. The fire boss pursed his lips and she continued. “Monsieur, please. It’s dangerous to split us up. In Ontario, students have the right to refuse to do dangerous work, and this would be very dangereux. Maybe you don’t know this because you’re from New Brunswick. We are just two girls with all these men. Also, there’s more than enough work for two. One person can’t do all the lifting and serving of three hundred big men. Please accept that our buddy system reduces the risks.”
“Are you finished?” The fire boss took a deep breath. “You made your point,” he said. “Okay, you can stay together. Now get the hell out of here. Both of you.”
Kerry could almost hear his “Before I change my mind!” She grabbed Yvette’s hand and tugged.
“Merci, monsieur.”
“Wait one minute, little girl. Are you the one who smokes?”
Kerry watched Yvette pale. “Not anymore, sir. I quit a long time ago.”
He looked as if he was going to ask her more questions, but then motioned them to get out of his sight. They ran back to the kitchen to tell Rolf the good news and there were high fives all around. But Kerry’s joy was tainted by the fire boss’s question. Did he suspect that the lighter was Yvette’s? Although she’d never say so to Yvette, Kerry was sure someone had put that idea in his head.
CHAPTER 12
W hen Kerry and Yvette arrived for work next morning, Rolf was waving a piece of paper. “What do the bloody arseholes in management expect me to do now? Turn water into wine?”
The girls read the fax: “Refrigerated trailer of beef departed Winnipeg food terminal 0400 hours. Truck intercepted en route by persons unknown. Reported missing.”
“How can a whole truck go missing?” Kerry asked.
“It’s more profitable to steal butchered beef than to rustle cattle,” said Rolf. “Easier, too. I need you girls to get your butts to Dryden and do some major shopping for me.”
Yvette clutched a damp tea towel to her chest. “Dryden?” she breathed.
“It’s not Paris, Yvette. Here’s my list. Be careful out there.”
Kerry took the wheel of the van, and Yvette crawled into the back seat with her pillow. Before they got out of camp, Didier came running out and flagged them down. “Here’s the fire boss’s order too. Make sure you get everything, even if you have to go all the way to Kenora,” he panted. “The bastard watches every move I make, so we can only hope the Scotch will chill him out. Oops, and can you get some cat food for Mouser?” He smacked the back of the van as Kerry pulled away. “Drive safely.”
Traveling south on the highway was Kerry’s first opportunity to see a burned-out area up close. Spontaneously, tears streamed from her eyes, blurring her vision so that she had to brake and grind to a stop on the gravel shoulder. She put her head on the steering wheel and wept at the gray landscape that surrounded her. So much had already been lost, and this fire was not nearly over. Up and over the ridge, and right down to the highway, the ground was deep with ash as fine as talcum powder. Here and there the charred remains of stumps, hollowed-out tubes, splintered toward the sky. Up the hill, black tree trunks lay scattered on the ground, as messy and useless as spent toothpicks. In some places the fire had burned deep patches, tufted around the edges with green trees. She could follow the pattern of how the blaze had flared and skipped from hot spot to hot spot, burning and moving on with breathtaking randomness. A tract of forest was destroyed right to the lakeshore, and the brooks that snaked through it were inky black with soot and washed-out soil.
She got out of the car and stepped gingerly off the shoulder, ash puffing around her ankles like moondust around Neil Armstrong’s boots. The acrid smell of wood-smoke clawed at her nose and throat and she doubled over, coughing. High up on the ridge, she could make out orange, antlike figures looking for hot spots where the fire might still be smoldering. Maybe she was dreaming, but was that Aubrey waving at her? Just in case, she waved.
Back on the highway, she traveled at about fifty miles an hour toward Dryden, afraid that her misting eyes would send her off into a rock cut. Yvette was napping but woke up as they wheeled into the shopping center parking lot. “Oh God, I’ve missed shopping,” she said.
“I don’t think we’re getting paid to shop for ourselves, ya goof,” said Kerry. She stretched stiff legs and arched her back. “Besides, shopping for clothes seems—so meaningless these days. So trivial.”
Rolf raised his eyebrows in a “you’re late again” kind of look, but he seemed relieved that they’d arrived safely back at camp, though they’d missed supper. A colander of sliced strawberries dripped water onto the counter.
“I’m starving,” said Yvette. “Sorry we’re late but we got stopped by the cops. They were searching the cars but they let us go because we’re with the department.”
“That firebug’s days are numbered,” Rolf said.
Kerry grabbed a handful of strawberries and popped them one by one into her mouth, and changed the subject. “Rolf, did you ever work for Mr. Sirois before?”
“Nope. Why do you ask?” Rolf asked.
“His shopping list was kind of wacked.”
Kerry and Yvette lugged eight bags of stuff to the fire boss’s office, including hardware, toiletries, sugar tongs, plastic lunch bags, Maltesers, a CD of Shania Twain’s greatest hits, and infrared night goggles.
“I gave it my best try, Monsieur Sirois,” Yvette told him. “We got everything except the liquor. I had a bottle of Scotch almost paid for, but at the last second the little jerk of a clerk carded me and I didn’t have my ID. Sorry, it was too late to go all the way to Kenora.”
The fire boss folded his arms, his face getting redder and redder.
“See, Kerry’s underage. We tried—”
“Trying doesn’t cut it.” He clenched his fist and Kerry thought he was going to strike Yvette. Instead, he turned his back on them and tripped over Mouser. “Bloody cat, out of my way,” he said, kicking Mouser clear across the room, where the cat slammed against the wall and slid to the floor. It lay stunned for a moment, then bolted from the room. People had been watching, holding their collective breath, but now the clerks began reaching for papers and talking loudly, pretending they hadn’t seen what had just happened.
“Hey, you can’t do that!” Kerry was on her feet before she had time to think. “Am I the only one who saw that?”
“No harm done,” said Harcourt. “It was an accident. The chief tripped over the stupid cat. And the cat’s obviously okay.” He held both hands palms up, waggling his fingers, inviting the rest of the staff to help him defend their new boss. When the phone rang, there was a mad rush to answer it.
“So that’s it, then,” said Kerry quietly.
“That’s it,” Didier chimed in. “Back to work.”
“Didier, can I have a form to report an incident? I want to file a report about the cat.” Kerry was aware that Yvette was rolling her eyes and shrugging her shoulders at anyone who would look her way, but it seemed that everyone was busy with urgent paperwork.
“That would be a form 2051,” sneered Harcourt. “As in, maybe by 2051 head office will care about an accident with a cat.”
“I want—”
“Missy, I don’t care what you want,�
� Sirois growled. He chewed on the end of an unlit cigar. “It’s over. Get out of my sight.”
Yvette jerked her head toward the door as Kerry dropped her eyes from the fire boss’s face to the floor and retreated outside.
“Thanks for backing me up, bitch!” she snapped.
“Kerry … Kerry, you’re so … damn … naive. I know this is your first job, but use some common sense. Sirois is no regular fire boss. He must have been sent here to find out how all these fires are starting. And he’s in charge. He has the power to send you home and give you a terrible reference, so you’ll never work in government again. If I were you, I’d find a way to suck up to that creep.”
“Well, you’re not me, okay? I don’t believe in keeping quiet about that stuff. He could have killed Mouser, and he wanted to hit you. He’s abusive. Maybe next time he’ll kick you across the room. Am I supposed to keep quiet about that? Did you forget it’s you he’s after because of your dumb lighter? You make me puke.”
Yvette reached for Kerry’s hand but she threw her off.
“Leave me alone. You’re as bad as the rest of them. Actually, you’re worse. I hate you.”
CHAPTER 13
“W hat part of ‘I want to be alone’ are you not getting?” Kerry continued skipping stones across the water as Yvette stomped toward her on the dock.
“I wasn’t finished with you. ‘Alone’ is exactly how you need to leave this whole thing.”
“I won’t. He’s such an asshole. I admit I overreacted, but I’m right.”
“Grow up, Kerry.” Yvette nudged her shoulder. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Sirois and his buddy Harcourt may be stupid and sexist but they have a lot of power. You don’t see what I see. The fire boss hates you, and if he hates you, he hates me.”
“It’s all about you, isn’t it? And what’s he going to do? Fire us?”
“For starters. He could do that and then where’d you be? Serving coffee at Tim Hortons next year instead of doing kinesiology. Or he could send one of his buddies to rough us up. I think that was the point of his little display back there.”