Ragged Company Read Online Free PDF Page A

ONLY EVER SEEN one cold like this one. It came on straight across snow—the wind so tight and hard it blew along parallel to the ground. You could hear it. It didn’t so much scream across the flatlands as it whispered.
Pssst.
Sharp, slicing like a fingernail across silk. Many a man would tear up in the face of it. That’s what I remember. Big red-faced men, their eyes glistening wetly through the slits between their scarves and toques, their breath hanging like curly white beards in the fabric. They would huff and puff for air because that cold was so deep and dense it would suck the air right out of your lungs. It was a huge, everywhere kind of cold. They called it a “monster” cold. Monster because it was huge. Monster because it was unknown and fearful. Monster because it came in at night and monster because it killed things.
    The cows. That was the first sign that things weren’t right. In that kind of cold you expect the stock to find shelter. Even a cow knows when the weather’s gonna turn, and even a cow would get itself to the barn. But I guess that wind blew it in so quick itfooled everything. We found the first one about a half-mile out. I’ll never forget it. She was standing there leaned up against a rail fence looking like an old woman waiting for a bus. She stared at everything unblinking, her eyes red, the irises dulled with death, frozen open in surprise. The others were the same. Thirty of them. Not huddled together like you’d expect but spread about all loosey-goosey, frozen into place like statues with that dull look of wonder on their iced-over faces. That was one son of a bitch of a cold.
    Just like this one. I thought about that as we made our way along the street. You could feel your nostrils start to freeze. Everywhere there were people hunched over against the cold, moving in a crazy armless trot, peering through slits in scarf and hat and hood. I could hear Digger mutter a curse and Dick ahead of me huffing away in short, sharp gasps. Amelia took it all in silence.
    “Shoot me your cash and I’ll pick up,” Digger says when we reach the liquor store.
    “Vodka,” I say.
    “Yeah,” he says, “so what else is new?”
    So we get to the theatre and pause on the sidewalk. All of us feeling out of place, out of sorts, out of the predictable patterns we live. We spend a few moments eyeballing each other. Waiting, I guess. Waiting for the brave one to pull the plug on this trip and send us all back to the alleyways, lanes, and doorways that we understand. But no one says a word.
    Finally, Amelia nods at us. Just nods, and we head up the steps to the big glass doors. Digger shoots me a look that says,
Keep your eyes peeled,
and Dick moves a step closer to us all. Only Amelia seems certain, unafraid. She walks to the ticket window and says, “Four for
Wings of Desire,
please.” Just like that. Just like this was the kind of thing she did every day. Casual. She sounded casual, asking.
    “Pardon?” the young guy in the booth asks, and I know we’re scuttled.
    “Four for
Wings of Desire
,” she says again.
    “Are you sure?” he asks, looking the three of us over.
    “Yes, I’m sure,” Amelia says, still soft, still under control even though I know she knows the guy’s ready to call the cops. “Four.
Wings of Desire.
I hear it’s very good.”
    “Ah, yes it is,” the young guy says, waving out the back of the booth. “I’ve seen it three times myself.”
    “Three? Well, it must be good.”
    “May I help you?” a briskly walking man in a red blazer asks twenty feet before he gets to us.
    “Yes. Four for
Wings of Desire,
please,” she says again with a little wink at Red Blazer that surprises me.
    “
Wings of Desire.
Yes. It’s in German, you know? You have to read the little sentences under the picture while you watch,” he says, coming to a stop five feet from us, giving us the once-over.
    “I’m sure we’ll love it,” she says, reaching into her pocket and