The Quest of Highway1

By Morgan Nyberg

On Canada’s West Coast the descendants of the survivors live in scattered villages, relying on forest and ocean to supply their simple needs.
But in the stronghold of the Yellowhairs the ancient myth of racial supremacy continues to flourish. The Yellowhair goal: total domination of the Coast. The method: merciless warfare.
And now the Yellowhairs have been strengthened by their discovery of a technology not seen for four hundred years: a method of extracting metal from ore.
Highway1, a Black man, is content in the peaceful routines of his village. But when the village is attacked by Yellowhairs searching for a stolen metal axe-head he is propelled into a battle for the survival of his people.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Morgan Nyberg
• Release date: Feb 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781999026820

Morgan Nyberg

Reviewers have said of Morgan Nyberg’s Raincoast novels:"One of the best series in the post-apocalyptic genre, hands down.""An exquisitely formed vision of a broken world.""On a par with McCarthy's The Road.""The best I've read in a post-apocalyptic setting.""This book (Since Tomorrow) stunned me with its power and richness."“Far and away the best of its genre.”Before writing the Raincoast series Nyberg had been a poet (The Crazy Horse Suite), an award-winning children’s author (Galahad Schwartz and the Cockroach Army; Bad Day in Gladland) and a literary novelist (El Dorado Shuffle; Mr. Millennium). He had worked and lived in Canada, Ecuador and Portugal. He was teaching English in the Sultanate of Oman when he felt the need to confront in fictional form the ecological crisis facing Planet Earth. The Raincoast Saga, many years in the making, is the magnificent result.

Book preview

THE QUEST OF HIGHWAY1

MORGAN NYBERG

Volume 6

THE RAINCOAST SAGA

THE QUEST OF HIGHWAY1

Highway1 said Who are they?

Lodge said I don’t know. Alls I can see is they all got yellow hair.

Highway1 and Lodge stood shoulder to shoulder on the parched summer grass of a low bluff, peering westward across the water. Highway1 was six-and-a-half feet tall, with thick shoulders. His skin was dark, his hair roughly braided, his beard a scatter of spirals. Lodge was pale skinned, grey haired, grey bearded. They both wore shirts and kilts of woven cedar bark.

Highway1 said Maybe they want to trade.

Looks like maybe they come from the big island. That’s a long paddle just to trade.

There were five in the approaching canoe. Their hair gleamed in the afternoon sun.

Lodge said Better go and get your momma.

Highway1 loped through the sparse undergrowth of an arbutus grove to a clearing where the main house sat. He saw Oolichan walking up from the fish weir with a basket.

She called to him We’re gonna eat good. She picked her way up the sandstone rise, holding the basket against a hip. Her feet were wet.

He said There’s some visitors. Lodge says you better come.

A girl came out of the house. Oolichan said to her Take this, Oyster.

He watched his sister cross the worn-down grass in front of the house. She was eleven years old but tall. She reached to take the basket from her mother. But from the bluff beyond the arbutus grove came a man’s cry. The basket fell, spilling dead or struggling fish.

Highway1 raced back through the grove. Just beyond where the undergrowth ran out he saw Lodge crawling toward him, pushing himself with his feet. He was holding a hand against his side where an arrow protruded. He managed to rise. But he cried out again and fell face down at Highway1’s feet with another arrow through his spine.

Before the canoe touched the sand Highway1 saw four of the paddlers leap into the water and thrash toward him. They held weapons: a bow, a spear, two long knives. The bowman set another arrow as he ran.

Highway1 threw himself to the ground. He heard the arrow zip above his head, tick through some brush and strike a tree trunk. He saw Lodge lying beside him. He bellowed Momma!

The attackers had crossed the exposed sand of mid-tide as well as a belt of barnacled rocks and a mound of seaweed. Now they were scrambling up the face of the bluff, thirty feet of knobby conglomerate.

He retreated into the grove. Looking back he saw some of his people running toward him from the village. He could not tell if they had weapons. He scanned the forest floor. He saw summer grass, longer here than on the bluff. He saw huckleberry bushes, salal, a long-dead arbutus limb. He said Oh Jesus.

He looked up. Four blond heads, then the bodies, surged into view as the attackers topped the incline. They wore cedar-bark garments like his own. One of them was a woman.

He kept scuttling backwards. Near the base of an arbutus he saw a few stones, fist-sized and patterned with orange lichen. He took one in his left hand, tucked another into the crook of his left elbow and grabbed a third with his right hand. He bellowed again – with rage this time - and charged from the grove.

They had made it to the top of the slope fifty feet away. Now they were racing toward him, shrieking as mindlessly as he. They did not stop when they saw him coming, nor did they stumble, but there was a hitch in their momentum, almost a pause.

The attacker in the lead held a long knife. He had ceased shrieking for half a second when he saw the enormous dark-skinned man burst from the woods. But he instantly resumed his war-cry, which ended as Highway1’s rock struck his face. The man was tall and muscular. Nevertheless his arms trailed with the grace of a ballet dancer before he landed on his back and skidded toward the lip of the bluff and then over it.

Now the attackers did stop, but only briefly as they watched their comrade slide from view.

Highway1 took the rock cradled in his left elbow. He put his head down and sprinted forward, still roaring. The woman with the spear was six paces to his left. Two men - the bowman and another with a long knife - were an equal distance to his right. The bowman pivoted to take a shot, but if he missed Highway1 he might hit the woman. The woman and the man with the long knife ran toward Highway1.

Running full speed Highway1 could not throw the two remaining rocks. All he could do was toss them underhand. The man with the long knife looked annoyed, perhaps disgusted with the feeble effort. But he slowed as he stepped aside from the lobbed stone. The woman batted her stone aside with her spear.

The long knife of the man who had received Highway1’s rock in the face lay on the grass. Highway1 dived, grabbed the handle of the weapon as he slid, and righted himself before reaching the lip of the bluff. He crouched to face the three attackers.

Now the bowman had a clear shot. Highway1 froze. The arrow sailed into the sky as the bowman cried out and stumbled to one knee. There was an arrow angling from his side.

Highway1 saw his mother, Oolichan, at the edge of the grove, holding a bow. He saw his sister, Oyster, beside her. He saw his relatives Youbou and Prevost run past her, each carrying a spear.

The woman with the spear turned to face them.

But the man with the long knife rushed screaming toward Highway1.

Highway1 stepped backward over the lip of the bluff onto the steep slope, then stepped on the body of the man he had hit with the rock. He dropped a hand to steady himself. The blade of the long knife he held hit the stone with a clang.

As his attacker leapt Highway1 flattened himself and pushed the knife upward. It was jerked from his hand. Still, the man swung his own weapon before sliding face down to the bottom of the slope. Highway1 saw his own blade protruding through the man’s back.

As he scrambled back up the incline he saw his relative Prevost above him, holding bloody hands against his abdomen. Prevost’s knees buckled, he fell forward and continued past Highway1, leaving a red streak on the stone.

Highway1 moaned and climbed onto the grass.

Youbou was fighting the woman. They thrust, parried, dodged, swung their spears like staffs. The woman feinted a thrust. When Youbou moved to parry it she clubbed him in the groin with the shaft of her spear. Youbou grunted, bent, held his spear out defensively, tried to back away.

The woman was facing away from Highway1. He tried to run forward. But his right leg was not working properly.

With the blade of her weapon the woman smashed Youbou on the head. She stepped past his spear blade, with her free hand grabbed a handful of his hair, jerked him forward and drove a knee into his face. He fell to hands and knees. The woman stopped shrieking.

Highway1 yelled No!

The woman gripped her spear with both hands and drove the blade into Youbou’s back. Youbou screamed.

Highway1 stopped. He stood there weaponless. His right leg was bleeding from a gash above the knee. He saw Prevost’s spear.

The woman said Go ahead. With her own spear she motioned him toward Prevost’s.

Highway1 saw other figures in the grove now but could not tell who they were or whether or not they had weapons, and he saw barking dogs. He heard his mother yell Move, High, so’s I can get a shot!

Instead he attacked the woman – tried to attack, for he was limping.

His mother yelled Don’t!

The woman swung her spear and clubbed him on the ear. He paused, lumbered forward again. She clubbed him again.

He said Oh.

Then she was behind him. He tried to whirl, but instead found himself sitting on the ground. The woman said Don’t move. Sit still and you’ll be okay. She was kneeling behind him. He felt her dig fingers into his hair and pull his head sharply back. He felt the point of her weapon against his lower back. She called Yous stay there. Tell him he gots to be still.

His mother faced him from the edge of the grove with half a dozen armed villagers.

The woman said Yous seen what I can do.

Oolichan said You better do like she says, High.

Highway1 said Okay, Momma. He heard the woman’s hard breathing, felt her breath against an ear.

She called Yous got somethin that belongs to us.

Highway1 said We don’t got ….

But she jerked his hair and pushed the spear point, so that he felt it bite as it penetrated the weave of his shirt. She said more quietly I ain’t talkin to you. I’m talkin to your momma. She raised her voice again. Yous know what I’m talkin about.

Oolichan said We don’t got nothin that don’t belong to us. Maybe you should of asked first instead of killin our people.

The woman said A guy come this way with somethin that was stoled from us.

Oolichan said We trade a fair bit. What is it that was stoled?

The woman pushed her weapon. Highway1 yelped. She said No more talkin. Just go and get it. Your boy don’t got to die.

Oolichan said You know there’s nothin gonna keep you alive if you kill my son.

At his ear Highway1 felt the woman’s low laugh. "This is hows it is - you listenin good? You go and get what it is I want, momma. After that your boy and me go down to my canoe and my friend that’s waitin for me by it. If Horseshoe there with the bow wants to come, then yous let him. Then I let your boy – High is it? - I let High go and I’ll be on my way. Otherwise I finish High, yous finish me, and I don’t care what yous do with Horseshoe."

For a while the only sounds were the woman’s breathing, bowman Horeshoe’s stifled grunts of pain, and the barking of the dogs. The woman said softly Maybe you ought to come with me, High. I’d make them bitches jealous back home. She kissed him lightly on the ear.

Highway1 said I couldn’t never love no woman that killed my friends.

The woman’s laugh rang out. Yous hear what he said? He said he couldn’t never love no woman that killed his friends! Anyways your time is about finished. How come yous ain’t got it yet?

A single dog had come close. It was tall, skinny, male, short-haired, with a hairy face. It jumped toward the woman, jumped back, jumped forward baring its teeth.

The woman said I like dogs. Don’t make me kill it.

Highway1 said Lay down, Flea.

Flea did so, still with bared teeth.

Oolichan said Maybe we traded for it and never knowed. What is it?

Oh, yous would know our axe right away.

You’re killin people for a goddamn axe?

I’m waitin. How come nobody’s movin?

Oolichan bent to whisper to Oyster. The girl ran back through the arbutus grove.

The woman said Now yous are startin to think more better. She said to Highwa1 Ain’t they, High? and kissed his ear again. She called Horseshoe! Are you comin with me?

Horseshoe said I am, yeah.

Then Oolichan and the half-dozen villagers who stood with her – men, women, armed with spears or bows – all started to talk at once in raised voices. The dogs they held by their collars barked more frantically.

What you want a goddam’ axe for!

Who’s that waitin for you down by your canoe?

Where abouts is it yous come from anyways?

Horseshoe ain’t lookin too good.

The woman’s amused expression faltered. She lifted her head, scowled at Oolichan and her friends. She turned her head to check behind her.

But it was too late. Prevost was standing there, holding both hands against his belly, where blood oozed through his sliced shirt.

She got partway to her feet before Prevost fell on her.

She struggled free, but Highway1 sprawled on top of her, with Prevost under them both. Then she was sitting between Highway1’s legs with her back to him. He circled her with his left leg. He held her spear with both hands, the shaft pressing her throat. She took hold of the shaft, tried to push it away, but Highway1 was too strong.

She said That feels real good, High. I like feel of that leg on top of my ones.

Oolichan came and stood above the woman. She said What is it yous want, that made so much trouble?

The woman said Jesus Christ, you mean yous really don’t know? She called Horseshoe, you hear that? It ain’t here. We’re a bunch of useless assholes. She closed her eyes and laughed.

A couple of men with spears ran toward the bowman, Horseshoe. Two women knelt beside the still body of Youbou. Two men and a woman came and dragged Prevost away. The dogs ran about excited and confused.

Behind him Highway1 heard Oyster sobbing.

On the beach the man who had remained with the canoe was dancing from foot to foot and roaring. How come yous hurted Powell and Howe? Horseshoe, come on, let’s go home! Don’t hurt Jellyfish! He held a spear but did not seem aware of it.

The woman called to him Go on home, Jarvis. Go quick.

But Jarvis continued dancing and roaring.

There were more villagers now, trying to help Prevost, weeping over Youbou, or just standing there gaping. Six men with spears formed a semicircle in front of Jellyfish. Highway1 lifted away the spear and stood. Six spear points forced the woman onto her back. She smiled up at the men holding the spears.

Oolichan said What’s this about? What kind of a axe is it you’re after? Where abouts is it you’re from? She took the spear from her son and set the blade against the base of woman’s throat.

The woman said We’re Yellowhairs. That’s alls you got to know. Worms like yous don’t tell a Yellowhair what to do. Your boy gots guts, but that don’t mean he ain’t a worm like the rest of yous.

Never removing her eyes from Oolichan’s she wrapped her hands around the shaft of the spear. The men surrounding the woman muttered curses. One said Careful, Oolichan.

The woman pulled on the spear. Oolichan resisted. The woman’s face went solemn. She said to Oolichan When the Yellowhairs are the boss of the world, yous will see what kind of worms yous always been. She nodded.

Highway1 said No, Momma!

Oolichan threw her weight on the spear. The woman’s hands fell.

Oolichan dropped the weapon. Her son’s cheek was split and bleeding, but she slapped his face anyway. I told you to stay back. If Prevost never saved you you’d be dead for sure.

Highway1 worked to stifle a sob. I’m sorry, Momma.

Shut up. Just shut up.

She left him gazing down at the beautiful face of the woman as blood seeped through the spread of blond hair.

Oolichan and a few men went down the slope.

Highway1 heard the guard of the Yellowhair canoe, Jarvis, yell Jellyfish, come on! The man’s protests grew louder as he was dragged past the bodies of the men he had called Powell and Howe.

Highway1 was kneeling over the corpse of Youbou when his mother returned. He rose and went to her. She held one of the knives. It was about half a meter long. He reached to touch it, but Oolichan moved the blade away. It’s real sharp. She showed him a bleeding cut on her thumb.

What it is it, Momma?

All the villagers - about a hundred and fifty - were now gathered around Oolichan, Highway1 and the corpses of Youbou and the woman. From among them came the moaning of Prevost, the pained grunts of the bowman Horseshoe, and Jarvis’s howl of rage and panic.

Oolichan said It’s metal.

2

Oyster hugged her mother’s arm as they walked.

Oolichan said to the girl Even your daddy wasn’t never so white as you look right now. And here’s me and your brother that’s brown as minks. Well, you’ll get some color back soon. She made a gesture indicating the villagers following them. Everybody feels like you do. It’s been a while since I felt this bad.

Oyster said When Daddy died.

They were walking on the beach. The tide was well out.

Highway1 limped beside Oolichan on the opposite side from Oyster. He did not wince from the pain of his cut leg, but his mouth was set firmly against it. The tall dog, Flea, walked beside him.

Oolichan took Highway1’s arm. You done good, walkin on that sore leg.

He said I had to come. But maybe I shouldn’t of. Not on account of my leg, but it was awful hard seein Lodge and Prevost and Youbou put in the ground.

Oyster said Me too, Momma.

Oolichan said We all feel the same. Yous both done good. And High, you said some words and helped push the dirt in. I’m real proud of you.

She saw her son dash away a tear. She looked back over her shoulder. She called How yous doin?

None of the villagers replied, but many lifted a hand in response.

Oolichan said to Highway1 Go on back and see if any of the old ones need help. She started to remove her hand from his arm, but he placed his free hand on hers, hiding it entirely, and held it in place.

He said Okay, but there’s some things I got to ask you.

You seen others put in the ground before. It’s hows we do it at Old Frost. Wheres we come from before, the ground was too hard, so ….

No, I know all about that. It’s other stuff.

All right. But not now.

Highway1 limped back among the villagers, touching hands as he passed. They all walked slowly, but still the oldest were lagging. He found Willow being piggy-backed by her portly and grey-haired son, Hardy.

Hardy said to him No, you got a sore leg. I’m okay if I rest once in a while.

But Highway1 helped Willow slide down from Hardy’s back. He said My leg ain’t that sore. He scooped up the frail woman. Willow smiled up at him and touched his face. He resumed his slog toward the Old Frost arbutus grove, visible a mile down the beach.

Oolichan said How’s your side?

Horseshoe replied You stay away from my side.

He was seated on the ground with his back to a shore pine, to which he was tied.

Oolichan squatted in