Ice Storm, page 8
The disaster was made worse this morning when five hundred hydro towers in Vankleek Hill were flattened by ice, shutting down Montréal’s subway lines for the first time ever and destroying two of the five power lines that feed the city. The stability of the power grid hangs by a thread. An exhausted power worker spoke to our correspondent earlier.
“We fix one block, move to another and the one we just left loses power again because more branches fall on the line.”
Three thousand Hydro-Québec employees are working sixteen-hour shifts to try to fix the power grid. Soon they will be joined by a thousand linemen from the United States who are already on their way to volunteer assistance to Canadians.
Alice grinned at Mrs. Hartley, who grinned right back, false teeth and all. “They’re coming to help Dad!” Alice cried.
Here is the situation as it stands now. Virtually all schools in eastern Ontario and western Québec are closed. Highway 417 is closed. Train service has been cancelled from Toronto to points east. Most flights are cancelled. Schools, colleges and universities are closed, as are banks, government offices and hundreds of stores, restaurants and offices. Emergency wards are overflowing with more than one hundred cases of carbon monoxide poisoning as people try to heat their homes with camp stoves and other devices. All elective surgery has been cancelled. Another 1,000 shelters have opened in Montréal. Police are requesting everyone to stay off the roads, which are “nothing more than skating rinks or obstacle courses.”
Rural areas have been especially hard hit. The Premier of Ontario has issued a cross-Canada appeal for generators, desperately needed by dairy farmers to power their livestock feeding and milking equipment.
Alice caught her breath. “Mrs. Hartley, I didn’t think about that! About the cows, I mean. Yesterday my radio said that Saint-Hyacinthe was completely without power, and that’s where my cousin lives. They’ve got fifty cows! What are they going to do?”
“Do they have a generator?” asked Mrs. Hartley. “Some farmers do.”
Alice let out a big breath. “Of course, they do. I forgot. That’s what Uncle Henri told me when he called the other day. He said he was coming to get me because even if their power went out they’d be okay because they had a generator. But then the bridges closed, so – here I am.”
“Lucky for me,” said Mrs. Hartley gruffly.
“I guess,” Alice smiled. Then she took the smile back. She was still sore about what the old woman had said back at the house. But not as sore as she thought she would feel. Why was it okay to be with Mrs. Hartley after their argument? Usually, Alice avoided people who made her feel bad. But with Mrs. Hartley, it was different. Alice shrugged her shoulders. The ice storm was making everything feel weird.
“I should try calling Sophie to tell her where I am,” she told Mrs. Hartley. “Dad’s cell is dead, but my aunt and uncle might still have a phone.”
Alice went to her cot and got her backpack. Pulling out her cell phone, she dug deep in the bag to get the charger. She couldn’t find it. She dumped everything out of the backpack. Alice couldn’t believe it. She’d remembered the phone but not the charger. How could she be so dense?
At lunchtime, Alice helped hand out sandwiches and juice boxes. “Where did these come from?” she asked a volunteer named Jean-Michel.
“Different places,” he replied. “For the past couple of days we’ve been getting pretty great food from supermarkets and restaurants because it made more sense to give it away than let it spoil on the shelves. You know, there was this one guy who walked up to a policeman and handed the cop the keys to his grocery store. ‘I’m taking my family out of the city,’ he said. ‘Take whatever you need.’ Isn’t that cool?”
That was really cool. “I heard that some people are stealing generators,” she said.
“Oh yeah, lots of people are doing that. And there’s been looting at stores and break-and-enters at abandoned houses. A whole lot of people are going to get a surprise when they get home!”
Alice frowned. Well, nothing she could do about her abandoned house. “Why?” she asked. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious that we’ve got a big problem here – why make it worse?”
“That’s easy,” replied Jean-Michel. “People are selfish. They look at a problem and ask ‘What’s in it for me?’ They don’t ask, ‘How can I help?’ There will always be scumbags, kid. Get used to it.”
Alice didn’t think she wanted to get used to it.
“How can I help?” she asked him.
He laughed. “So, you don’t want to be a scumbag, eh?” Alice laughed too. Jean-Michel looked her up and down. “You’re sure I can trust you?” he asked more seriously. Alice nodded.
“The worst thing right now is boredom,” he said. “Parents are worried and upset. They’re not paying attention to their kids. The kids aren’t used to all this free time and they don’t know what to do. Do you think you could read to them for a while?”
“Sure,” said Alice, “but I don’t have any books with me.” Thinking of Guillaume, she added, “I know a few stories that I can tell without books, but not many.”
“Not a problem,” replied Jean-Michel with a grin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys that he dangled enticingly in front of Alice’s eyes. “The keys to the kingdom!”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know the bookstore that’s down in the Galerie, the underground mall beneath this building? Well, I work there. That’s why I’m here. When the weather got bad I decided to stay here instead of go home. But there’s no point in opening up the store. There are no customers and we shouldn’t waste the power right now anyway.” Jean-Michel handed her the keys. “Go downstairs and pick out some books the kids would like.”
“You’re kidding, right?” asked Alice, aghast. “I can really just go and unlock the bookstore and take some books?”
“Not take – borrow for a good cause. Just make sure you keep them in mint condition so my boss doesn’t find out!”
Alice grabbed the keys and ran before Jean-Michel could change his mind. She couldn’t believe her luck. The underground mall was lit, but only dimly because the stores were closed. It was a little freaky to be there all alone. The only sounds Alice could hear were her footsteps: no music, no cell phones, no people talking. An image of Sébastien’s loup-garou flashed into her head before she could stop it. The sound of its claws clicked ominously on the shiny linoleum behind her... Alice whirled around, then rolled her eyes. Ridiculous. There was no monster. Except maybe for the storm, and it wasn’t inside the Galerie.
Shaking her head, she unlocked the door to the bookstore. Keys to the kingdom! Alone in a bookstore – it was like a dream come true! Alice went right to the kids’ section. She’d start with Robert Munsch. Mortimer was her favourite, but maybe 50 Below Zero was more appropriate for an ice storm? And how about Magie d’un jour de pluie – some rainy day magic would be just the ticket. They were all fun to read out loud, although the French kids would probably laugh at her atrocious accent. Sophie always did. And Miss Rumphius; she loved that book. Zoom at Sea and Boy Soup and Pas de taches pour une girafe would make everybody laugh. She loved The Dragon’s Pearl, and...Alice grabbed at the book: Mrs. Piggle Wiggle! Her own copy was long gone. Jacob Two-Two and the Hooded Fang and The Nose from Jupiter would be good if she got some older kids. She didn’t want to stop, but her arms filled eventually.
Carefully Alice locked up the store and rattled the door to double-check. Carrying her treasures to the elevator, she had a little bounce in her step. Five days ago all she could think about was the skating competition, but that worry seemed very small now in comparison with everything else that was happening. Who would have thought on Monday that she’d be spending her Friday night not practicing at the arena but raiding an underground bookstore and playing librarian to a bunch of kids she didn’t even know?
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Sophie and Sébastien stood side by side at the window, looking anxiously down the lane. Where were Maman and Papa? Sébastien’s schedule was completely falling apart. Sophie was having a hard time convincing him that it wasn’t his fault.
“I’d better go check the cows again,” said Sophie worriedly. She pulled on her outdoor clothes for about the millionth time. She’d put her mitts and boot liners by the wood stove but they still weren’t dry. There was nothing worse than wet boots. Sighing, she put them on anyway. Outside, the weather was even worse, if that was possible. The wind was whipping around the corner of the barn, catching her full in the face and flinging icy rain into her eyes. Would it ever stop?
The cows were starting to bawl. The barn was stuffy, their udders were full and they were thirsty. The floor was covered with manure. Sophie carefully operated the hand-winch to lower the wall curtains for more ventilation, then grabbed a shovel and a wheelbarrow. Slowly she worked her way down the barn, shovelling manure into the wheelbarrow, cleaning up as best she could.
Just then she heard the telltale clatter of the tractor. They were home! Sophie raced back to the main barn to get the first ten cows in place to start milking. Maman climbed out of the truck to help. In minutes, Sébastien joined them. They all three worked feverishly and the first lot were cleaned and ready by the time Papa had the generator hooked up and flicked the switch. Power surged through the barn. The ventilation fans began to turn. Sébastien manned the water pump. Maman and Sophie moved up and down, speaking quietly to the cows, calming them. Everybody had a job, but poor Papa looked like he was ready to fall over. He had dark circles under his eyes and he hadn’t shaved, so he was all bristly. Maman sent him to bed and he was so tired he didn’t even argue.
“Papa is exhausted. All the farmers are trying to do the work of ten men and they can’t keep it up,” explained Maman. “Your help means a lot to him. When we drove in, he noticed that you had protected the woodpile and he was really pleased.”
“Protected?” Sophie exchanged a glance with Sébastien. “We just brought it closer to the house so the wood would be easier to get. Why do we have to protect it?”
A black look passed over Maman’s face. “Because people are stealing wood, that’s why. Do you know that there are volunteers outside the Triangle Noir, the Triangle of Darkness they are calling us now, who are working for hours out in the freezing cold, cutting their own wood and bringing it to us to help us stay warm, and that lazy good-for-nothings are stealing that wood? People who have power but can’t be bothered getting their own wood? People who are reselling the wood at high prices? C’est terrible! It makes me sick!”
They were shocked. But it was clear from the look on Maman’s face that she wasn’t making it up. “Why were you so late?” asked Sébastien. “We were so worried.”
“I’m sorry, mon petit,” said Maman. “We took the generator for a detour to the Champlain farm.”
“Why?” asked Sophie curiously. “They don’t have cows, they have pigs. Pigs don’t have to be milked.” Sébastien giggled. Milk a pig?!
“It is worse for the pig farmers, Sophie,” explained Maman wearily. “They need more ventilation in their barns than we do. If they don’t have ventilation, even for an hour, the pigs start to die. Monsieur Champlain called us when his generator broke down. We finished at Farm C as fast as we could and took the generator over, but he’d already lost a good number of animals.”
This was even more shocking than the wood story. Geneviève Champlain was in Sophie’s class at school. She was going to be devastated.
“We cleared his barns as best we could, but I couldn’t leave the generator, not with our cows waiting. He called the army. They’re going to try to get him help. But he’s not the only one in trouble.” Maman sighed wearily.
Sophie looked closely at Maman. She looked nearly as tired as Papa. “Why don’t you go to bed too, Maman?” said Sophie. “Everything’s running. Sébastien and I can look after things for a bit.”
“Mais non!” cried Maman. “There are too many cows to be milked. It will take all three of us.”
“We can do it, Maman,” said Sophie earnestly. She looked at Sébastien, who nodded vigorously. “Really we can.”
“C’est sûr?” asked Maman. She sighed. “Merci, mes enfants. Je suis très fatiguée.” Maman stumbled off after Papa. Sophie looked at Sébastien.
“I’m worried,” she said. “They’re too tired to work. They might have an accident with the machinery or something. We’ve got to let them sleep as long as they can. Can you arrange for the milk truck?”
“Mais oui,” agreed Sébastien. “I’ll make my voice deep, so they think it’s Papa calling!”
Sophie looked around the milking parlour. Everything was running smoothly. The cows were content. She wandered up and down the rows, speaking softly to the animals. What would she do if she lost them? She couldn’t imagine having a disaster like the Champlains. She would just want to die.
Sébastien came tearing into the barn, hatless and coatless.
“The phones, the phones,” he panted. “They’re not working! And the cell is dead. I plugged it into the charger but it still won’t work. I can’t get through to the milk truck!”
“Slow down, Sébastien, breathe, for heaven’s sake,” said Sophie, but her mind was racing. No milk truck meant no pickup meant spoiled milk. Not a disaster. Not worth waking her parents because there was nothing they could do. The truck would come or it wouldn’t. If the milk spoiled, so be it. Don’t cry over spilt milk, Sophie told herself. The important thing was keeping the cows healthy.
Sophie went back to murmuring to the cows and her soft voice served to soothe Sébastien as well. When the first ten cows were done, the two of them put their milking gloves on to give the teats their final clean. Sophie pushed the button to release the finished cows. Sébastien was already herding the next ten into the milking parlour. As the cows took their places, Sophie and Sébastien worked as hard as they could to clean all the teats and hook up the cows by themselves. When the milk started flowing, Sébastien gave Sophie a high-five.
They’d done it – no parents required! Sophie had to smile at his enthusiasm. He wasn’t such a bad little kid, not really.
All of a sudden, the whine of the generator got louder. They looked at one another in alarm. The ventilator fans hesitated.
Slowly, Sophie raised both hands in front of her and crossed all her fingers for luck. Solemnly, Sébastien did the same. They crossed their arms. They crossed their legs. They crossed their eyes and it wasn’t even funny. The generator could NOT break down. It just couldn’t.
But it did. The whine reached a feverish peak then went silent. The fans stopped turning. The milking machine ground to a halt. With the suction gone, the machines dropped away from the cows’ udders. The cows began to bawl, confused.
This couldn’t be happening. Sophie was paralyzed for almost a whole minute. When she could move, she grabbed Sébastien’s hand and raced for the house shouting, “Papa! Maman!” at the top of her lungs.
But there was nothing to be done, nothing at all. Papa tinkered with the generator for a while and determined that a part deep inside the mechanism had broken.
“Overuse, probably,” he said. “Nothing we can do.”
“But our cows!” cried Sophie.
Papa pulled the truck keys out of his pocket. “I’ll go into town and see if anybody’s got the part, or anything even close to the part that I can cobble up. And I’ll register with the army for a new generator. I heard they’re flying in generators from all across the country to help us. Evie, Sophie, see if you can finish milking this lot by hand. Take note of which ones got milked and which ones didn’t. We can’t possibly do them all by hand!” he added, shaking his head. “Sébastien, call the others and tell them what’s happened. Tell them I’m trying my best to get another generator but they should try to make their own arrangements as well.”
“But Papa,” said Sébastien in a very small voice. “The phones are out too.”
Papa put his face in his hands. “Mon dieu! Can anything else go wrong? I will drive to the other farms on my way home and tell them myself.” He turned to go.
“Henri,” Maman touched him on the shoulder. “Remember, the truck is almost out of gas.” They were all four silent, standing around the carcass of the generator.
“Get the hand pump,” Papa said finally, to no one in particular.
After Papa finished hand pumping more gas into the truck, he got into the cab without another word and drove away. The rest of the family stood out in the freezing rain and watched him go. This storm wasn’t fun any more, not one bit.
Day Six
Saturday, January 10, 1998
The Shelter
Alice spent another almost sleepless night. Almost, because she reckoned she must have dozed off at some point in the wee hours or she wouldn’t be feeling as groggy as she was. Even though this shelter was better than the last one, all night there were still hundreds of people talking, going to the bathroom, moaning, crying, snoring and all kinds of other things that most people do in private. Alice was pretty sure that given a choice she’d pick loneliness over the chaos she was enduring now. Mrs. Hartley didn’t agree. She’d made friends with the nurse and some of the volunteers and one of the ladies who had a cot near her. She was a lot less cranky when she had somebody to talk to, that was for sure. As Alice wiped the sleep from her eyes, she wondered what would happen today. It felt so strange to have absolutely no power over what was going to happen next.
Maybe she could read to the kids again. Yesterday, it had been fun while it lasted. But after an hour, most of the kids got tired of listening. They started to poke each other and act silly. Alice had to stop being a librarian and return the books to the bookstore. After that, the only thing to do was sit. Sit and stare. Sit and listen to all the fighting and the laughing and the arguing and the crying. Some of the grown-ups tried to organize games for the kids to play but the kids all said the games were lame. It was almost as if they had forgotten how to play any games that didn’t include a video screen. So they just ran around and got into trouble, fighting over what program to watch on television. Alice sat and got frustrated. She had never felt so lonely in her life.
