Ice Storm (11 page)

After a bagel and the short ride in an army truck to Place Ville-Marie, Alice felt better. Place Ville-Marie was a nicer shelter as far as she was concerned, because it was an office building and there weren’t so many people in each room. The building was forty-seven stories tall, so nothing was likely to fall on its roof. She’d never been in any of the offices in the tower before, but she’d been shopping at some of the cool stores in the underground
Galerie
before. After she was settled in an office on the thirty-eighth floor with just thirteen people, Alice went to find Mrs. Hartley again. A nurse was with her, helping her use the little machine to check her blood sugar. The nurse checked the readout and measured out a shot of insulin. Then she checked Mrs. Hartley’s leg.

“You’ll have to be really careful of this,
Madame.
You know that diabetics have a hard time healing wounds in their lower extremities and the cut could get infected. Let the volunteers know if you see any redness or puffiness.”

Mrs. Hartley said she would. Then the nurse looked at Mrs. Hartley’s hands. “I can help you with those nails,” she said. “I have my special clippers.”

“Would you?” asked Mrs. Hartley. “They are too thick for me to cut and sometimes it’s hard for me to get out to have them clipped.”

So Mrs. Hartley couldn’t help that her nails were long. Alice blushed. She should have known, if she’d thought about it. Who would want to go around looking like that and having people make fun of you? Alice felt a little ashamed. Not that she’d actually ever made fun of Mrs. Hartley to her face, but she’d done it in her head. Alice supposed it wasn’t really much different.

Mrs. Hartley didn’t say a word about it to Alice. After the nurse left, they turned on the television. Lots of the offices had television sets. Alice had almost forgotten what it was like to watch TV, even though it had only been five days. She plopped down on the end of Mrs. Hartley’s cot to watch the news. The headlines were awful.

Montréal is paralyzed!
Soldiers have been called in to help the millions of people hit by the worst ice storm in living memory. The outlook looks grim after four days and seven deaths. With eastern Ontario and Québec already in chaos, the Atlantic provinces are now bracing for the storm.

Six hundred soldiers were sent to the disaster zone today and 3,500 more are on their way as 3.5 million people try to survive without power. A state of emergency has been declared in Montréal, Kingston, Brockville, Cornwall and many other municipalities. One hundred thousand people have taken refuge in shelters. Even Ottawa, the nation’s capital, has declared a state of emergency, the first in its history.

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?

|||||

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!”