FALL WIND
by
George Magee

“ Living a lie will destroy your soul, only the truth will set you free. “ Anon

Dixie Lou played quietly with her younger brother as the waves stirred by the light breeze lapped the shore line. The bright sunshine on this crisp fall morning glistened off the surface of the pebbles and held the two children entranced.

The bullet struck Dixie Lou in the arm pit, splintered, a portion severing her axillary artery, another entered the soft fleshy tissue of the axillary apex and slipped into her left lung. She let out a piercing scream and slumped forward onto the ground. Her life blood slaked like an oil slick along the shore line. Her brother Andy sat bolt upright in response to the scream and caught a bullet mid-sternum. He exhaled with a loud grunt and fell over backwards.

Jimmy Johnnie had just dropped his two kids off on the shore of the little island for part of the day. They were in his charge as his wife had gone into the city for medical care. He knew the kids couldn’t get lost; they would be able to amuse themselves for the rest of the day. The island was their surrogate baby sitter. Jimmie Johnnie was in his usual state of insobriety for that time of the morning as he eased the river boat out into the lake. He spotted the Beaver aircraft circling to the downwind end of the lake in preparation for landing. He was focused on the plane’s cargo. He was expecting something big.

The cool fall wind was brisk enough to stir up small whitecaps on the lake and they were indistinguishable from the tiny wisps of spray sent up by the ricocheting bullets. The boat was headed for the float plane dock as the first bullets pierced its bow and moved to the stern. One of them entered below Jimmie Johnnie’s mandible and exited through his right eye.

Pilot Les Skillen began his descent and noticed a line of people along the shoreline behind the float plane dock.

“Looks like were going to have a welcoming committee Pete.”, he said to his co-pilot.
“Yeh, well it’s Friday, welfare pay day and they know what we’ve got on board.”
“You know Pete, I don’t sleep too well after these booze runs to Nachakalat. We bring the government cheques for endorsement and payment for the booze; the natives drink their guts out all week and sober up just enough to pick up the next delivery.”
“Yours is not to ask and judge Les. We’re hired to fly. It’s Windfall Air that bears the responsibility.”

The Beaver slipped onto the water and began to taxi towards the dock.

“Christ Pete, see those white puffs on the water? Those are bullets. Look those bastards have lined up all their empty whiskey bottles along the dock and their shooting them out.”

Les quickly rolled the plane around, out of the line of fire and approached the dock from the side. The shooting stopped just before they reached the dock. A dozen or so Indians greeted them as Les and Pete stepped onto the dock.

‘Whershe de whishkey?.

Where’s your money?”, said Pete.

“You gut scheck for Jimmy Johnnie, he pay.”

Russ held out an envelope addressed to Jimmy Johnnie. One of the men grabbed it and tore it open.

“That cheque is no good unless Jimmie Johnnie endorses it,” said Les.

“Whersh Jimmie? Get Jimmie so he kin shign.”

“Give me the cheque and you find Jimmie and bring him here to sign,” said Less.

The Indian gave Les the cheque and they all ran in several directions in search for Jimmie Johnnie.

“ Pete, let’s get the Hell out of here, This looks like a real bad situation.”

They climbed aboard the Beaver, fired up right from the dock. As the plane slipped off the step and rose up into the sky on a direct path homeward, they noticed a river boat circling aimlessly in the middle of the lake.

“What’s in the envelope Pete?”

“It’s a cheque for $10,000.00 made out to Jimmie Johnnie from the Government of Canada and there’s a letter here addressed to Jimmie Johnnie from the office of the Prime Minister. It reads: “

Dear Mr. Jimmie Johnnie:

On behalf of the Government of Canada I wish to offer you our sincere apologies for the injustices you received while attending the Sisters of Mercy Residential School during the years 1968 to 1972. Please accept this cheque from the people of Canada as compensation in a small way for the part that we played as a nation in this great tragedy.

With deep sincerity

Hon. Jean Pierre Martin
Prime Minister of Canada