Come Hell or High Water | mxm

3.2

"Depends how long it's shut in for, I guess. Lotta water production on that guy," Mark observed.

"I know." Groaning, Sam rubbed a palm against his forehead, eyes nearly crossing over the lines of figures on his spreadsheet. "It costs a fortune to truck it all." He sighed. "If we'd just gotten that water disposal well drilled before prices tanked these wells would still be viable. God, this's all such a fucking mess."

"You worried?" Plate empty now, Mark scratched at his soft belly and followed with a swig of Pilsner from a damp can.

"I don't want to be," Sam said softly.

"But you are." Mark grunted, drained his beer. "We all are, now we're saddled with this clueless socialist government whose priorities are all fucked up."

Sam smiled a little. "They've been dealt a shitty hand, elected at the worst time, but they're not clueless. They're on our side."

Mark barked out laughter. "Christ, you actually voted for them, didn't you?"

"It's none of your business how I voted," Sam said mildly.

Still chuckling, Mark smoothed a hand over his stubbly chin. "Guess I shoulda expected it from you. What was it? The lightweight social policies? Makin' schools allow gay-straight alliances is more important to you than the tens of thousands of yer neighbours out of work?"

Sam laughed incredulously. "Really, Mark?"

Mark said sourly, "Things're headin' to hell in a handbasket right quick and if prices don't turn around real soon we'll all be fucked. That's the only thing any government should be worried about right now."

"What's all the gloom in here about?" Gord asked from the doorway. Sam looked up to see a big, toothy grin shining in his beard.

Slapping his laptop shut, Sam managed a smile, relieved at the interruption. "Sorry. Just had to get a few things sorted out."

Mark groaned as he hauled his bulk to his feet. "Better find Alice and make sure she's not tyin' one on. Any burgers left, Kelly?"

"A couple," Gord told him.

"Beauty. Grab you a beer?"

"No, thanks."

"Cheers." Mark ambled out into the hallway.

"Done what you needed to?" Gord asked when they were alone.

"Yes." Sam smiled at him. "Sorry if I'm being a downer."

"It's Canada Day," Gord reminded him teasingly. "We're havin' a party, yer not allowed to sulk away in here talkin' business."

Sam laughed. Suddenly realizing he was hungry, he lifted his plate off the floor and settled it on his lap. "Well, I'm at least allowed to hide in here while I eat, right? It's chaos out there. Sit with me for a minute?"

"Sure and that's why I came in here," Gord allowed, and settled into the chair across from him, crossing his legs at the ankles. "Needed the break."

From the hallway, the shriek of children's laughter followed the patter of feet. Voiced echoed from the kitchen, where the guests were still gathered over cake and beverages.

"See? I'm just looking out for you," Sam teased. Everything tasted like mayonnaise, but Sam ate hungrily nonetheless.

Outside, brilliant white flame split indigo sky. Moments later, thunder rumbled through the frame of the little house, resonated in their bones. Clouds carved open. Water sheeted grey against steamy windows.

The first pieces of hail shimmered white amongst pouring rain, bounced once off freshly mown grass. Suddenly the air was full of pitted spheres, ice hitting the roof like hammers, littering the gravel road.

Gord watched the storm contemplatively while Sam ate. "It's really comin' down," he observed after a while.

Sam gave him a warm smile. "Suppose it's a good thing I'm not driving home tonight, isn't it?"

Gord chuckled, warm and dark as molasses. "S'pose it is."

With a deafening peal of thunder, lightning shattered the darkness. Quip howled in the kitchen.

"Shit, that was right overhead," Gord murmured. Blinking violet spots from his eyes, he rose to his feet and stepped up to the window.

By the drive, an ancient poplar creaked ominously, a ragged wound splitting it in two from emerald crown to gnarled roots. Raw flesh beneath coarse bark glowed a fading orange as driving rain cooled it with a hiss of steam. As Gord watched, the vicious wind caught the two halves and peeled them further apart, until a handspan of darkness shone between the protesting fragments.

Gord felt vaguely unsettled as he considered the damage.

Claws clattered through the hallway, and then Quip was at his side, rubbing against his calves and whining, her tail tucked between her legs. Absently, Gord placed a hand reassuringly against her head.

Setting his empty plate on the floor again, Sam padded over to stand next to Gord and found his hand. Faltering hail bounced off the shredded edges of the split tree.

"Lucky it didn't hit the house," Sam said softly.

"That tree's prob'ly a hundred years old," Gord observed.

"Flashy way to go," Sam joked.

"Just more cleanup for the rest of us," Gord said, squeezing Sam's hand more tightly.

Later, clouds would scatter as quickly as they had come, and a glorious sunset would gleam crimson on the horizon. Later, stars would burst bright as lightning against a velvet sky. Later, they would find dozens of tiny dents in the roofs of all the cars and trucks in the front yard as everyone made their sleepy way home.

But for now, they stood with warm palms pressed together, bright lights at their backs, while the storm raged outside the walls and the lightning-struck tree shuddered, its two weeping faces pulling ever further apart under their own savage weight.