After The Fires Went Out: Coyote (Book One of the Post-Apocalyptic Adventure Series)

by Wolfrom, Regan

  I hit Sara, my open hand against her temple, like I was just trying to shove her away. I hit her and then I pulled back, shocked that it could happen so quickly.

  “I’m... I’m sorry,” I said. I climbed off the bed, pulling away from her.

  She looked just as surprised as I was, staring at me while she gingerly felt her face with her hand.

  “I don’t know why I did that,” I said. “Honestly, Sara... I don’t know what just happened.”

  “Get away from me,” she said.

  “Sara...”

  “You need to leave this house right now. Get out of here... or I swear to Almighty God I will get a knife and I will slit your throat.”

  She didn’t sound angry. She sounded more self-assured than anything else.

  I left the room.

  I went down the hall and grabbed a pillow and a couple of heavy blankets from Lisa’s closet.

  Tonight I’m testing out the wood stove at a cottage halfway between us and the Tremblays, the one we’ve chosen for the Marchands. Luckily Lisa and Alain had already brought over enough firewood, and all I had to do was clean the stove and wipe down the dusty sofabed.

  I think tomorrow morning I may be eating my breakfast out of a can.

  FIONA

  Fiona is like a girl in a Norman Rockwell painting. She has those rosy cheeks, that pretty brown hair, and those next-door looks that make you feel like you have the hots for your baby sister.

  I think I could see my way past the guilt on that.

  Fiona stands away from the rest of us, much like Baptiste. If we were all planets, Baptiste would be Jupiter, all big and gassy, and Fiona would be Pluto. She’s a little erratic... sometimes she dips out so far that you barely even notice her. (I’m Uranus, naturally.)

  From what Kayla told me, Fiona had only been in Cochrane for a couple of years before The Fires came. Apparently her parents were Mormons, which is odd since they only had the one kid; maybe that had made Fiona an outcast in Brampton, too, since she certainly fell into the role pretty easily when she got here. Kayla knew her from around and never liked her; to be honest, I don’t think Kayla’s ever given me a reason for it that makes any sense.

  Fiona’s just as smart and funny as anyone who isn’t me, and she doesn’t have any odd ticks aside from the occasional God and Jesus schtick. But she is a little too attached to Baptiste... it’s pretty weird... and I’ve never been sure if she wants him to be a father to her or just fuck her. Either way, I’m sure she’ll end up disappointed with the result.

  Maybe one day when she’s a little older I’ll let her know that I think she’s more than fuckable. Obviously I’ll find a better way to say it... I’ll probably feed her some bullshit about her eyes.

  Church girls love compliments about their eyes. I think it’s because they’re too repressed to appreciate God’s good word on their tight little asses.

  Today is Tuesday, January 1st.

  I woke up yesterday morning to a visitor. She brought Irish coffee and some kind of impromptu egg and cheese breakfast sandwich.

  “Thank you, Fiona,” I said, giving her a smile despite how cold and depressed I was feeling.

  She sat down on the pulled-out sofabed right by my legs, which wasn’t surprising since every other surface in the cottage was still filthy. “I figured you needed a friend,” she said.

  I pulled my legs in and sat up. “You’re a good friend to me.”

  “I meant the whiskey, but I guess you and I can be buds, too.”

  “Nice. Did Sara tell you what happened?”

  “Sara’s not talking to anybody. Everyone’s sure you must have done something pretty terrible.”

  I swallowed hard. “Yeah... it was pretty bad.”

  “She’ll get over it. She loves you and she’s not about to change.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Well I still think she’s lucky to have you.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “Well, I would. I think you’re pretty awesome.”

  “Uh, thanks.” I was getting pretty uncomfortable.

  “Do you think you two will get married someday?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Oh.” She seemed disappointed.

  “I still feel like I’m already married. I don’t know if that will ever change.”

  “I understand. I still feel like I’m a kid, even after everything that’s happened.”

  “You are a kid, silly. That’s why I’m not sharing any of this delicious coffee.”

  “That’s fine.” She reached into her jacket and pulled out a silver flask with an eagle outlined upon it. “I don’t drink coffee.” She took a deep swig.

  I laughed. She’d come full circle.

  “You’re awesome, Fiona,” I said. I leaned in and kissed her on the lips; only after I’d done it did I realize that I hadn’t gone for her cheek.

  She smiled and let out a little giggle.

  “Uh, sorry,” I said.

  “Don’t worry about it. Now eat your embryo sandwich and let’s head back home.”

  I ate my breakfast and then we walked back together. From what I could tell, Sara was still hiding upstairs.

  That suited me fine; I was still hiding from her.

  Pretty much the entire morning and afternoon of the 31st was spent helping the Marchands to get set up in their new home. Graham, Matt and the skinny kid (whose name I still didn’t know) had several more loads of supplies and equipment to do, but the rest of us minus Sara were on the job, cleaning and dusting and testing out the various appliances that were there.

  The Marchands’ new kitchen was completely electric, so that meant that it would be mostly useless until we could set up some power. There are still transmission lines connecting all of the cottages and beyond; we’ve never done any kind of inspection, but I’m pretty sure the lines are intact.

  But even if we can hook up the new Marchand place to ours, we’d probably end up draining our battery banks faster than we could charge them. So for now, the Marchands will have to get used to cooking dinner on top of the wood stove, unless they decide to use our place as some kind of restaurant; I don’t know what we’ll do if that starts happening.

  Before I’d pissed her off, so obviously before I hit her, Sara had invited the Porters and Tremblays over for New Year’s Eve. She’d felt it was an important gesture given that we’d both done our best over the past few days to make them hate us. Obviously the Marchands were invited by default, so by the time everyone had arrived almost the entire first floor of our cottage was jammed with people.

  I was feeling tired, so I was tempted not to say anything or even show up, but I knew that I still had a job to do.

  “I need everyone’s attention,” I said as I walked into place in the middle of the living room.

  It didn’t take long for the talking to die down; I guess everyone was sober enough to listen for the time being.

  “I need to go over a few things,” I said. “It won’t take long. A lot of you might get a little inebriated this evening, and that’s fine... but try to remember that you can get into trouble if you’re not careful.”

  Everyone seemed to be listening so far, but I knew that my time was short.

  “If you leave this cottage for any reason,” I said, “make sure you leave with someone who is sober and has a way to defend you. Do not go outside alone, no matter what. Everything seems really peaceful out here, but you need to remember that there are plenty of places for someone to hide, not to mention the coyotes, or the fact that if you pass out in the snow you’ll probably freeze to death. And keep an eye out for snowmobiles... just because we haven’t seen any tracks so far this year doesn’t mean they won’t be coming around. We can’t trust anyone. If you see any person who is not a part of this team, you need to assume that they will take any opportunity to do you harm.”

  “That’s a little paranoid,” Kayla said.

  “There’s no such thing as being too paranoid... we�
��ve learned that lesson before. Over and over again. There’s no harm in assuming the worst.”

  “So shoot first,” Matt said with a grin. “Understood.”

  “You know what I mean,” I said. “Just be careful. If you’re outside at all, there’s no reason to veer off the gravel road. Don’t take any romantic walks down moonlit paths... no risks, okay?”

  There was a collective murmur, and I knew that there was no point in saying any more. I’d said the important part: trust no one.

  Short and sweet.

  I was even more tired now, so I tried to hide out in the kitchen with Fiona while she finished prepping the finger food, but she kept shooing me out like she was doing me a favour.

  “You should be out there having fun,” she said on what I think was my third incursion. “Have a drink for me.”

  “You know I don’t like to do that. Well, yes to the drinking part... but I’d rather just stay in here with you.”

  “It ain’t breakfast time... we don’t need any eggs folded in here, boss.” She picked up a tray of what looked to be spring rolls to take to the oven.

  I opened the oven door for her with a rather stupid bow. “Then I can wash dishes.”

  “Don’t you dare... that’s my excuse for staying in here after the appetizers are served.”

  I didn’t like that she was walling herself off from the others. “Why don’t you want to be in there?”

  She stopped working and stared at me. “Why don’t you?”

  “Seriously, Fiona... it’s New Year’s Eve. Do you know how many normal sixteen-year-olds would dream of having all the liquor they could drink?”

  “I guess I’m not normal, then.”

  “I don’t get you, Fiona. There are all these people out there who would love to know you better, but you don’t seem to want to let them.”

  She rolled her eyes. “They don’t like me, remember?”

  “That’s all in your head.”

  “Oh, really? Exactly who else around here likes me?”

  I knew she was fishing, that she just wanted me to make her feel wanted. I didn’t have a problem with that. “Well, obviously Sara loves you like a little sister, but that’s not a surprise. And Lisa thinks you’re pretty cool...”

  “I call bullshit on that,” Fiona said.

  “I’m not going to debate this with you.” I counted on my fingers. “Lisa likes you, Graham likes you...”

  “Kayla hates me...”

  “I think Kayla’s jealous of you.”

  “Come on.”

  “I’m not kidding. You’re smart, you’re pretty, you’re funny in a way that doesn’t bring anyone down... you’re like the total package, Fiona. Plus you’re younger than she is.”

  “She’s only like twenty.”

  I laughed. “One thing you’ll learn as you get older is that there’s not much to look forward to after you turn eighteen. You might pay less for car insurance, but that’s about it. One day soon, guys like Matt will stop looking at Kayla and they’ll only be looking at you.”

  “Guys like Matt? What does that mean?”

  I wondered if I would regret having mentioned the village idiot. “Think about it,” I said.

  “Did he say something about me?”

  “The next time you walk into a room, keep an eye on Matt. You’ll see it.”

  Fiona let out a faint giggle. “Bullcrap,” she said. But I knew she believed me. “Keep an eye on those spring rolls... I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She walked out of the kitchen into the chaos. I kind of wanted to go then, too, but I think I would have just gotten in the way.

  Sara came downstairs fifteen minutes before midnight. Most of us were a little drunk by then, and I’m pretty sure she was drunk, too; I have a feeling Kayla’s flask gets loaned out anytime someone wants a private nip.

  I didn’t go up to her; I felt like she needed to decide what to do with me. She gave and got a few hugs from family and near-strangers alike, slowly circling the room for a good ten minutes before she came to me.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hi.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You can kiss me at midnight.” There was no smile on her face.

  “You’re still angry.”

  “We’re not talking about it.”

  I reached out for her hand. She didn’t pull away. “I love you, Sara.”

  “You’ll say anything, won’t you?”

  “I just want to make this better.”

  She didn’t answer me.

  People started counting down, so I joined in. Sara’s lips didn’t move.

  “Happy New Year,” I said as I kissed her on the lips. I wrapped my arms around her and held on.

  “Happy New Year, Baptiste.”

  I hugged her for a good twenty seconds before she pulled away and moved on to everyone else. I gave Kayla a kiss on the cheek and offered Lisa a hug, and shook hands with pretty much everyone, even an in-the-bag Alain Tremblay.

  Fiona came last, as though we’d both planned it that way.

  She walked up to me and grinned. “Time to practice your aim,” she said in a quiet voice.

  I drew her in with an arm around her shoulder and kissed her gently on her forehead. I lingered for a moment, my lips just off her skin, enjoying the warmth of another body, of someone who still thought I could do no wrong.

  “Happy New Year, beautiful,” I said.

  “I was going to say the same thing to you. Thanks for everything, Baptiste.”

  “You know I love you, Fiona. You’re like...” I thought of Cassy and how much I missed her, and before I knew it I had begun to cry. “You’re like a daughter to me.”

  That’s what I told her, and that’s all I want to feel.

  Sometimes I wonder if it’s true.

  Despite our collective hangover, we were all back to work before ten in the morning, Sara along with us. She wasn’t really talking to me yet, so I mostly kept out of her way. She was in the background, mostly, helping out but not taking charge. For all intents and purposes, Lisa was leading the setup of the Marchand cottage and she was doing an excellent job.

  Lisa was smart enough to know that Sara was still angry with me, so she sent me and Graham up to the Porter’s to check out their extra cookstove. Justin Porter went with us, while Rihanna continued to work at the Marchand’s; he and I hadn’t really talked that much since he’d made it clear just what he thinks of my leadership.

  The three of us walked together up the road; I didn’t want to hitch up the horses just yet, since I had no idea if we were even dragging the backup stove out of the Porters’ place, or how much time it would take to get it ready to move.

  “Thanks again for letting us check it out,” Graham said to Justin as we walked.

  “We’re all in this together,” Justin said. “But if our other stove conks out, you know we’ll be showing up at your place wearing lobster bibs.”

  “Will you settle for coyote?” I asked. I didn’t realize until after I said that I might be throwing out some kind of challenge.

  “Look, Baptiste... I know we have our problems right now.”

  “You could say that...”

  “But you could be worse. I mean... I’m okay working with you. You know how I feel about who’s in charge, but until the group decides to make a change... well, you’re it. I can deal with that.”

  “So which Justin Porter am I talking to right now?”

  “I know things get heated sometimes...”

  “Heated? Is that what you call it?”

  “I’m sorry, Baptiste. I want you to trust me. I want us to be a team. This won’t work unless we can get along.”

  I couldn’t figure out his angle. I couldn’t see what he was plotting.

  “Look, Justin,” I said, “I don’t know what this is about.”

  “I made a mistake,” he said. “More than one. I know that you’ve made some too... we all have. But that’s no reason for us to turn
on each other.”

  “What’s this about?”

  He hesitated. “Rihanna fucked up.”

  “What?”

  “Some of our supplies are missing.”

  “Missing? Like you miscounted?”

  “Like someone’s been breaking in and taking shit.”

  “What? How long has this been happening?”

  “She told me yesterday. Says it’s been happening for a while. A week or two... maybe longer. I went out and checked, and found footprints.”

  “And you sat on it for a day and a half?”

  “Did you follow the tracks?” Graham asked. “Any snowmobiles?”

  “No snowmobiles from what I’ve seen. We tried following them, yeah... but there are trails all over the damned place. And the footprints are pretty much everywhere.”

  “Hold on,” I said. “Are you telling me that there could be any number of unknown people wandering around in the woods and taking our supplies?”

  “Who could it be?” Graham asked.

  “Fuck, Justin,” I said. “Have you even mentioned any of this to Sara?”

  “I was going to bring it up at the next meeting,” Justin said. “Rihanna’s still checking her counts to be sure. It looks like someone may have found a way into our basement through the old cellar door.”

  “But there’s a heavy chain on that door, isn’t there?”

  “Shit happens.”

  “Shit happens? What the hell does that even mean?”

  “I think Rihanna left it unlocked.”

  “Rihanna... okay... so someone could be in your house right now and you wouldn’t even know it.”

  “It’s a problem,” he said. “I should’ve kept a closer eye on everything. But you know... delegation...”

  “We don’t do excuses around here. You say you want to keep us safe, but you don’t even notice strange footprints in your own backyard? You have some nerve challenging me... some real fucking nerve...”