“This isn’t going to end well,” Graham said as we passed the old rec centre on our way out of town.
“Can we talk about this later?”
He shook his head. “We can’t start taking prisoners, Baptiste. What are we going to do? Turn the chicken coop into a holding cell?”
“Just drop it.”
“Whatever. This day’s been a complete waste.”
“I found all kinds of drugs. That’s worth something.”
“Well I didn’t find a single car battery. Checked six cars. All had their batteries stripped out. The hoods looked like they were pried open or whatever, but after taking the battery they must’ve slammed it back shut. You can’t even tell the battery’s missing until you bust the hood open a second time.”
“I guess that’s the smart way to do it. No reason to leave the hood open and have the rest of the parts clog up with bird shit.”
“Yeah, but it makes it harder for us.”
“When did anyone make things easy for us?”
Graham nodded. “I guess someone’s built a pretty hefty battery bank of their own.”
“Anyone who wants to live past next summer will be building a battery bank.” I turned back to look at Jayden and his cloth hood. “You got a battery bank, Jayden?”
“Eat shit and die.”
I tried not to laugh.
“We’re not sunk,” I said to Graham. “It’s a big district. Even if someone picked the town clean doesn’t mean there aren’t more batteries around here. We just need to keep looking.”
Graham nodded. “That’ll take a while. And a whole lot of diesel. Unless you know of a scrapyard around here.”
I shook my head. “We’ll ask when we get home.”
I didn’t bother asking Jayden.
“We could probably find a few batteries on our way back,” Graham said.
“We can check, but let’s not take too long. We should really get you checked out. You know, since you got shot and all.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’ll believe that after you take off that vest.”
Graham smirked. “I’m not stripping for you, Baptiste. So quit asking.”
We started along Highway 652, eyeballing each driveway for cars. There could be cars locked away in garages or sitting out behind old sheds, but it would take at least fifteen minutes at each house, and there’s a good chance that anything sitting out of the way is old enough for the battery to be in pretty bad shape. I’m not an expert on any of this stuff, but luckily Graham knows a whole lot more than I do.
It’s that big electric engineer’s brain of his that brought him to the wilds of Canada in the first place. Poor guy.
We checked over three dozen yards between Cochrane and the Abitibi and ended up with eight 12-volt batteries for our trouble. Not a bad haul.
By that point we had maybe a half hour before the sun set. And we still had a murderer to deal with.
“Should we try the next concession road?” Graham asked.
“There are a few places on our side of the bridge,” I said. “We should just check those and be done for now.”
“We can grab those any time... we can send Matt up to do that... or the Tremblays.”
I nodded. “You’re right... so we head home.”
“Another hour and a half. That’s all we’d need for the next one.”
“We’re out of time.”
Graham grumbled a little but he didn’t change direction.
We soon arrived at the bridge. We’ve got four gates in total (including the unmonitored one on the bend on Kennedy Road, up by Sucker River), and the one that closes off the bridge is probably the strongest, made from cast iron that Ant welded together. He’d been taking metal fab in college before things went to shit, and I know he liked that there was something we needed done that he was best at, something other than growing weed or trying to blow things up in his “secret” shed.
Those gates are important; they keep us safe and they give us control of any trade between Cochrane and the Ayn Rand-humping preppers at Detour Lake.
I hopped out to open the three locks on the gate and deactivate the tripwire with the dongle. Once I’d finished Graham drove through. I closed the gate and turned the battery-powered alarm back on before getting back in.
Less than five minutes later we were home.
Sara and Lisa came out to greet us.
“Who the heck is that?” Lisa asked, nodding at the hooded man squished between us.
“Says he’s Jayden McIvor,” I said. “He lodged a bullet in Graham’s vest.”
Sara gasped.
Lisa gasped a little too, or maybe more of a seethe. Or a growl.
I was glad she didn’t have a gun on her.
“I’m okay,” Graham said. “It’s just a little tender.”
Lisa grabbed Graham by the arm, hard enough to give him a whole new injury. “Get your butt upstairs,” she said as she pulled him out of the cab.
“Yes ma’am.”
“I thought the McIvors left,” Sara said.
“They did” I said. “Let’s bring him inside.”
Sara helped me with Jayden, while Lisa took Graham up to her room to check him out. I guess that makes sense; she must know naked Graham better than anyone else.
We sat Jayden down on the couch.
“What’s the hood for?” Sara asked.
“It’s part of the process,” I said. “There’s no reason to show him where we live and how we get there.”
“I don’t like it. It’s dehumanizing.”
“Make sure you fill out a comment card.”
She glared at me.
I decided not to bother coming up with a better joke.
Fiona came downstairs with Lisa and Graham, her face showing a blend of curiosity and fear once she saw the man with the cloth bag over his head.
I wanted to tell her to go to her room, but I’m not her father. She doesn’t have to listen to me.
I pulled off the hood and threw it on the couch.
“You people are fucking crazy,” Jayden said.
“That’s not Jayden McIvor,” Sara said.
He gave her a hateful look. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m Jayden McIvor.”
“I’ve known the McIvors most of my life. You’re not a McIvor.”
“He didn’t have any ID on him,” I said.
“What did he have?” Sara asked.
Graham reached into his pocket and pulled out the knife and the gum. He placed the items on the side table.
Sara picked up the knife. “Homuth Lake Lodge,” she said, reading the lettering on the handle. “I have no idea where that is.”
I leaned in toward the prisoner, doing my best to intimidate him. “What’s your name?” I asked.
“Jayden McIvor.”
“Bullshit. Tell me who you are. I’m not above beating it out of you.”
“Come on. Some crazy bitch says I’m not me and that’s proof of something?”
“I know you killed her,” I said. “You’ve got bits of Pauline on your freakin’ knuckles, dumbass.”
“What are talking about?” Sara asked, almost in a whisper, like she was hoping I wouldn’t give her the answer.
“Pauline Yarrow. He pummelled the shit out of her and left her to die.”
“I didn’t touch her,” Jayden said.
“Look at this,” Fiona said, holding up the cloth bag. “Looks like blood.”
“So you bagged her and then you beat her,” I said. “Why not just leave the bag on her? Did you somehow know that I’d be coming for you?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not scared of you.”
I smiled. “I know you are.”
“This is bullshit. I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Homuth Lake Lodge. Maybe we should see if you’ve been keeping your pocket knife up to snuff. I hear that those things can rust up pretty badly if you don’t treat ‘em right.”
Graham glared
at me. He wasn’t about to watch me slice and dice someone on the couch.
That was okay. I wouldn’t need to go that far.
“You must have hit her at least twenty times,” I said. “At least. I wonder what it’ll feel like when I slice a strip off for each punch you gave Pauline?”
“F-fuck you,” the young man said. It sounded like he was ready to talk.
“Tell me your name.”
“It’s Caleb. Caleb Alden. I’m from Smooth Rock Falls. I did some work for the McIvors last summer.”
“What kind of work?”
“Odd jobs... you know, built a fence, re-roofed their house.”
“You’re a marauder,” I said.
“I’m not a marauder. And I didn’t kill that girl.”
“You mean Pauline... now you’re forgetting her name?”
“They were going to kill me, too.”
I heard the door open on the back porch. I looked over to see Matt and Justin. Kayla wasn’t far behind.
Justin strolled in like a man in charge. He nodded to me and stuck himself right smack in the middle of everything.
“Hoo-whee,” he said. “Smells like some hot and fresh bullshit in here.” He looked over to me and smiled. “Lisa called me on the handheld, said I’d better get my ass down here. Man I’m glad I did.”
I glanced at Lisa.
She shrugged her shoulders. She apparently didn’t think I could handle things on my own.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” Justin said. “Please continue your riveting account, kid.”
“I’m not lying,” Jayden, or Caleb, said. “There were three men with painted helmets, driving a grey pickup with a gun mounted on the back. They were chasing her down when she hopped in my truck.”
Painted helmets. A grey pickup. A mounted gun.
He was describing the Spirit Animals, but that didn’t mean he was telling the truth. Word spreads in strange ways.
“I thought she was your girlfriend,” I said.
“I’d hooked up with her from time to time,” Caleb said. “No big deal.”
“What about the hood?” I asked. “And the blood?”
“They had the hood on her,” Caleb said. “I guess maybe they were taking her somewhere but she got away.”
Justin chuckled. “So she was running down the street with a bag tied over her head, found your truck and hopped in, and then you rescued her but somehow lost her right after?”
“We ditched the truck and ran into the hospital. We split up and I found a place to hide. They didn’t look for me that long. They grabbed Pauline and walked out. Then I saw them kill her.”
“Shit,” Justin said. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
“I guess.” He hadn’t caught the sarcasm.
“I’ve heard enough,” I said.
“I’m not lying,” Caleb said. “Please...”
“He can’t stay here,” I said. “And we’re not letting him run around the district looking for other people to kill.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Fiona said. “The McIvors have been gone for a month. What was Pauline still doing here?”
“Fiona the detective,” Kayla said.
“You explain it, then.”
“Pauline got into a fight with Jayden,” Caleb said. “She stormed out and came to stay with me for a while.”
“Or you kidnapped her,” Sara said.
“That’s ridiculous. I don’t kidnap people.”
“So why did you kill her?” I asked.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Caleb said. “You have to believe me.”
“Fuck it,” Justin said. “I know exactly what to do. We take him outside and we shoot him in the back of the head.”
“You’re joking,” Fiona said.
“He’s a problem in need of a quick solution. We’re not wasting an ounce of food or firewood on this piece of shit.”
“Let’s drive him out to Aiguebelle,” I said. “We’ll drop him off a couple clicks from the border and let them take care of it.”
I expected Justin to argue.
I waited.
He gave me a nod instead.
“What’s to stop him from coming back here?” Sara asked.
“Would you come back here, Caleb?” I asked.
“No fucking way,” Caleb said. “I don’t ever want to see any of you again for as long as I live.”
Justin laughed. “I think we’ve got a plan.”
“This isn’t right,” Graham said. “Aiguebelle has indentures.”
“So what?”
“Don’t we have a very specific policy of not allowing anyone to transport people across our territory for indenture? Didn’t we almost get into a shooting match with Detour Lake last summer about this very same thing? Dropping him off in Aiguebelle means condoning slavery. I’m not willing to do that.”
Justin shook his head. “Slavery? That’s a pretty loaded word.”
“What would you call forcing a person to sign their freedom away just so they can eat?”
“I call it two squares and a place to sleep,” Justin said. “And if Caleb doesn’t want that he can live out in the woods or something, catching fish with his gotch. Either way, he won’t be our problem anymore.”
“I won’t fight it,” Caleb said. “I have nothing to keep me in Cochrane anymore.”
Justin smiled. “Beats the alternative... and saves us having to dig another grave.”
“What...” Kayla said, her voice quivering. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Problem?” Justin asked.
“You’re an asshole.”
“And you’re a slut. Are we all about labels now?”
“That’s enough, Justin,” I said. “You’re over the line.”
He sighed. “Shit,” he said quietly. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Kayla. That wasn’t cool.”
“No, it really wasn’t,” Sara said, positioning herself in front of Kayla. “Look... I really think you should go home now, Justin.”
The way he glared at her surprised me. I could see the red in his face. “I’m not going anywhere, Sara,” he said. “Get used to it.”
“We don’t have any real proof,” Fiona said. “There’s some reasonable doubt here.”
“Fuck reasonable doubt,” Justin said. “I’m reasonably certain that the world will be a better place without this piece of shit.”
“This isn’t a debate,” I said. “I’ve made up my mind.”
Justin seemed pleased by that for once. “We can use my car.”
“You have enough charge to make the trip?”
“More than enough.”
“How has this been decided?” Graham asked. “This isn’t right.”
“Fuck,” I said. “It’s been decided, Graham. Let it go.”
“All hail King Baptiste,” Lisa muttered.
I’m not sure why everyone keeps calling me that.
Caleb didn’t say a word as Justin drove us toward Quebec; he was still bound with the plasticuffs and I’d put the hood back on.
The road to Aiguebelle was paved, but it hadn’t been maintained much even before the comet and The Fires, with surface breaks and a shoulder that dropped away every few hundred meters.
It didn’t take long for us to reach the junction at Wade Lake. If you turn left there, it’s a good two hours to go visit the “objectivist commune” at Detour Lake. If you turn right and keep on for twenty minutes or so, you can get to Iroquois Falls, which used to be a small city before the plumbing went funny and people started puking their organs out.
We went straight, toward Quebec and the twin cities of Rouyn-Noranda and Val-d’Or, or Aiguebelle as they like to be called. Those fine folks tend to talk down to we savages from Ontario.
About two minutes later Justin pulled over.
He climbed out of the car.
I assumed he was going to take a piss.
He pulled up his seat and grabbed Caleb by the arm. “Time to get out,” he said.
“End of the line.” He pulled Caleb out and pushed him toward the ditch.
“We’re nowhere near Aiguebelle.”
“This is as close as this kid’s getting.”
“Wait,” Caleb said. “What are you doing?”
“That Aiguebelle stuff was all for show,” Justin said. “A little bit of role playing for the ladies.”
“No, Justin,” I said. “This isn’t the plan.”
“Hold up... so you were serious? You were going to drag this sorry sack of shit to Aiguebelle? The borders are closed, Baptiste. They won’t let anyone in these days... and certainly not a goddamn murderer.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Caleb said.
“Shut up,” I said. “Since when are the borders closed?”
“Since I’ve been moving people for a long time, Baptiste. The last few loads Marc and I made to Quebec, before you guys made us quit... I had to sneak them past the border guards. This needs to happen. We need to kill him.”
“No. This isn’t how we handle things.”
“It needs to be. If you don’t have the sack for it...”
“I was worried you’d try to trade him off as a twink to Detour Lake... but not this...”
“He’s worth nothing, Baptiste. And I fucking made you a promise, remember? No more trades outside your damned Supply Partnership.”
“Yeah... you make a lot of promises.”
“Seriously...”
“So keep your latest promise. Let’s take him to Aiguebelle. He can stand at the border and beg for them to open it. Then he’s their problem.”
“We’re not giving this asshole any more chances. You gave Ryan Stems a second chance, and look what that got us. Little Ant Lagace with three bullets in his chest.”
“This isn’t the same thing,” I said.
“You’re right. This time we know that there’s no upside to second chances. This time it ends with a bullet to the brain. Now either shoot this asshole or give me your gun and I’ll do it myself.”
“Shit, Justin.”
“Don’t make me bash this fucker’s head in with a rock.”
I was losing control. “What the fuck is this? Do you think you can manipulate me into shooting someone?”
“I’m not trying to manipulate you... I’m giving you the facts. Only two of us are getting back in that car.”
After The Fires Went Out: Coyote (Book One of the Post-Apocalyptic Adventure Series) Page 6
