Black Fly Season. Giles Blunt

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      Gradually the dance became more energetic. Red Bear leaped and spun, his arms and shoulders gleaming in the firelight. His arms were soaked in blood up to the elbow. There was a large leather bag in his hand that he passed around his body and he revolved around the fire, making a wheels-within-wheels pattern. Then he stopped and opened the bag and held it upside down over the flames. The contents crashed into the burning wood, and sparks swirled into the sky.

      The other three jerked back from the fire, coughing and brushing at their clothes. When Kevin turned back there was a pig’s head sizzling in the flames, its little eyes shut tight and crinkled at the corner as if in merriment. His muzzle was wrapped with duct tape. His four trotters sizzled and blackened around him.

      Red Bear stood close to the fire and stretched toward the sky, every muscle in his body straining. The veins in his neck stood out like electrical cords. His voice had gone thin and raspy and the words came streaming out of him with a terrible urgency. The words – if in fact they were words collided with one another. Spit flew across the firelight, and at one point Red Bear sounded like he was going to choke. Kevin wondered if he was insane. Leon didn’t look particularly perturbed, but Toof was open-mouthed, a kid at the circus.

      Then the voice stopped, and Red Bear seemed to go slack, released from whatever had held him. He sank slowly to the ground.

      Nobody spoke.

      After a while, Red Bear spoke in his normal voice. ‘Did I say anything?’

      ‘Yeah,’ Kevin said. ‘You said a lot. Unfortunately not in English.’

      ‘Sometimes I don’t know if I am just hearing the voices, or if I am transmitting them.’

      ‘Oh, you were transmitting loud and clear.’

      ‘Perfect,’ Red Bear said. ‘We have direction now.’

      ‘Which way do we go?’ Toof said. ‘North?’

      Leon gave him a look of pity.

      ‘Not that kind of direction, you moron.’ He turned to Red Bear. ‘How much direction? Do we know what to do next?’

      ‘Oh, yes. I have a time and a place, an actual address.’ Red Bear slapped his knees and looked at the others. ‘You were frightened?’

      ‘No, it was fantastic,’ Toof said. ‘Like something out of the movies, man. Cool dance.’

      ‘You?’ Red Bear looked at Leon.

      ‘Naw, I wasn’t scared. Can’t say it was the most comfortable I’ve ever been in my life.’

      ‘You?’ Red Bear’s gaze fell on Kevin.

      ‘Nervous,’ Kevin said. ‘The voice thing definitely made me nervous. Also, you have a lot of blood on you.’

      Red Bear looked at his arms as if he had never seen them before. He opened his canteen and poured water over first one arm, then the other. It took him several minutes to get the blood off.

      ‘Did you really kill a pig over there?’ Toof said.

      Red Bear ignored the question, or maybe he didn’t hear. He was concentrating on cleaning blood off his arm. ‘Probably my voice changed, no?’

      ‘Yeah,’ Toof said. ‘You went all fuzzy.’

      ‘That is not my voice. That is the spirit talking. He doesn’t want to talk, so it’s a difficult thing sometimes. But what he told me…’ Red Bear dumped the rest of his canteen on to the fire. Water hissed and steamed. ‘If what he told me is true, we are going to have great success.’

      ‘When?’ Toof wanted to know. ‘When does it start?’

      ‘Three days from now. We take a little trip together.’

      ‘Where? Where are we going?’

      ‘You ask too many questions. I’ll tell you where when it’s time to leave.’

      A few days later, Red Bear had Leon round up the other two and bring them out to the Rosebud. Leon refused to tell them what it was about; it was supposed to be a surprise. Red Bear was waiting for them at his usual table.

      ‘I have found us the perfect home,’ he said, leaving a fiver on the table for his coffee.

      Outside, he climbed into his BMW, and the rest of them followed in Leon’s TransAm. The place turned out to be an abandoned summer camp out on the south shore of Lake Nipissing. The collection of little cabins was slated for demolition, after which a hotel was planned on the site. Red Bear had some connection with the demolition company and had arranged use of the place for the summer. There was an overgrown baseball diamond, a big stone fireplace for cooking outdoors, and a collapsed ruin of a dock.

      ‘Man, it’s got a beach and everything,’ Toof said. ‘Volleyball posts, too. I wonder if there’s a net anywhere.’

      ‘Why, you wanna start a team?’ Leon said. ‘There’s no net, no ball – there’s no supplies of any kind. There’s just the cabins.’

      ‘What’s it going to cost?’ Kevin said.

      ‘Nothing at all,’ Red Bear said. He smiled behind glittering sunglasses. ‘Our only costs are water and electricity.’

      Within a day, all of them had moved in. Each had his own cabin and they could come and go as they pleased. Cooking facilities at the camp were minimal, so they would have to eat a lot of their meals at the Rosebud, but Red Bear and Leon spent as much time at the camp as possible. Kevin and Toof, on the whole, preferred town life during the day, but you couldn’t beat the rent.

      A couple of nights after he had moved into the camp, Kevin found himself in the back of a small cabin cruiser that cut across the choppy north bay of Lake Nipissing. Toof leaned over the side, trailing his hand in the water. Leon was at the wheel, and Red Bear was in the big leather seat beside him. He swivelled slowly back and forth, a small smile on his lips. He still wore his sunglasses, even though it was well past sundown.

      A stiff wind was blowing in from the west, and Kevin was wishing he had brought his jacket. They had pushed off from a private dock in Shanley and now they were scooting across the vast bay. They were so far out that car headlights looked like fireflies. A nearly full moon lit the silvery spire of the cathedral and the blocky apartment buildings that form Algonquin Bay’s skyline. The Manitou islands slid by on their left, the Anishinabeck reserve on their right. After that, lights on the shore became sparse. When the moon ducked behind a cloud, the lake went black as velvet.

      Twenty minutes later, Red Bear pointed to a set of lighted buoys. ‘French River,’ he said, yelling over the noise of the inboard. ‘Nearly there.’ He stood up, placing a hand on Leon’s shoulder. He leaned down and said something to him, pointing through the windshield. Leon turned the wheel and the boat scooped around toward the shore. Three lights glimmered among the trees, a triangular constellation.

      ‘That is what the spirit showed me,’ Red Bear shouted above the noise. ‘That triangle.’

      At a signal from Red Bear, Leon cut the motor and they drifted on the black water.

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