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

by Wolfrom, Regan

  “I had to...”

  “That’s not what I mean. When you had the accident with Marc... you felt so guilty that you basically shut down for two days. And you guys weren’t exactly close.”

  “And I haven’t really thought about that kid at Helena.”

  “His name was Rasheed. Maybe you’re telling yourself that you had no choice... maybe you didn’t... but you should still feel something about it.”

  “I know.”

  “What do you think will happen when you guys try to get Sara back?”

  “Hopefully we’ll get her out of there.”

  “You’re going to kill again,” Fiona said. “You know you will.”

  I didn’t want to lie to her.

  “Please, Baptiste,” she said. “Don’t go to New Post.”

  “But what about Sara?”

  “Sara will be safer if you don’t come for her. I think you know that.”

  “I’m not sure about that.”

  “Please, Baptiste.”

  “We can handle this, Fiona. We can get Sara back and give New Post and the whole Mushkegowuk Nation a reason to steer clear of us.”

  “Even you don’t believe that. If you attack New Post, Ryan Stems will come for you. But that isn’t what this is about. I know you can rationalize this rescue mission no matter what. I want you to think about what you’re turning into.”

  “I’m one of the good guys. You said you trusted me, Fiona. Don’t you trust me anymore?”

  “It’s not about trust. You can’t go to New Post.”

  “I’m going to go down and get the cheese.”

  I found the trapdoor and squeezed down into the crawlspace. I bent my head and made my way to the chest freezer they’d taken from our place.

  It’s funny the way you can ignore something for a good long while, until the very second that someone points it out. Then it’s like it’s out there for the world to see, and you start feeling embarrassed about something that wasn’t troubling you at all before.

  It was getting easier living with the tough decisions. At first you feel like that’s a good thing, because if you always regretted every choice you’d stop doing anything. But with time you end up too far out, where you start making mistakes and you don’t even care that you’re making them, when you start losing control simply because you don’t bother holding on to it.

  That happened to me once before, on the other side of the world, when I started seeing the Afghans I was supposed to help as enemies I needed to brush aside.

  That happened to a lot of soldiers I knew.

  Fiona was right; it was happening again. I was losing perspective.

  If I went down to New Post, I’d kill a lot of people. I’m not sure I’d even be able to bring Sara back with me. And I wasn’t sure if I’d want to be the man who’d come home after something like that.

  I grabbed the cheese from the freezer and made my way back to the kitchen. I dropped the cheese off on the counter and leaned over to give Fiona a kiss on the forehead.

  I walked out without saying anything. I checked my tablet for Lisa’s location and walked over to see her. She was out with Graham and Matt, strengthening the gate on Nelson Road.

  “We’re not going to go through with it,” I said.

  “Why the hell not?” she asked.

  “Because I can’t do it, Lisa... okay?”

  She nodded. “I’ll tell the others.”

  Graham was staring at me, but he seemed more concerned than upset. I have a feeling that Lisa hadn’t really kept it a secret from him.

  Something’s changed with the two of them. They were different before Christmas, on-again, off-again. That’s over now.

  They’ll be the ones to outlast the rest of us.

  Of course, this year will probably outlast me.

  I made my way back to Fiona and Gwyneth’s cottage, hoping to make it in time for lunch.

  I was relieved when Fiona told me that Gwyneth had sent her regrets.

  Kayla was waiting for me when I got back after lunch. She was sitting on the couch, staring at her tablet, but the moment I stepped inside she stood up and walked over to me.

  “You just called it off,” she said. “Just like that?”

  She sounded angry.

  “I thought you’d be happy with that,” I said. “No one gets hurt.”

  “And I don’t have to share you with her... is that what you think of me?”

  “Uh... what?”

  “You really think I want Sara gone.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I tried to get her back, Baptiste. I pleaded with Sky.”

  “I know you did.”

  “You say that... but you don’t want anything to do with me now.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She started to cry. “You haven’t touched me since she was taken.”

  It had been longer than that. I hadn’t touched her since the day we’d caught those kids, when Sara had let them go and then run away... the day when we’d finally talked about being together.

  I’d been in a holding pattern. I hadn’t decided what to do. And with Sara being taken from me...

  “I’m sorry, Kayla,” I said. “I love you.”

  “That’s your stock answer, Baptiste. You love me... you love Sara... is there any woman you don’t love?”

  “I can’t deal with this right now. I have shit to deal with.”

  “You can’t blame me for this. It’s not fair. I didn’t do this to her.”

  She turned away.

  I grabbed her shoulder and brought her back to me.

  I kissed her gently on the lips.

  “I love you, Kayla,” I said. “It’s just hard to focus on anything other than getting one of our people back.”

  “Do you blame me for what’s happened?”

  “What? No... it’s not your fault. If anything, it’s my fault. I should have dealt with Justin a long time ago. And I still haven’t dealt with him. I should have let him die in that ditch.”

  “Do you still want me?”

  “Yes. I still want you.”

  “Then prove it.” She was still crying.

  “Like right now?”

  She nodded. “Upstairs.”

  She turned and walked over to the stairs.

  I followed.

  We went into my bedroom.

  We took off our clothes and we laid together under the sheets.

  I rubbed her back, her shoulder, and her neck, occasionally pressing my lips against her skin.

  That was all she seemed to need.

  After a few minutes she fell asleep.

  Today is Friday, January 11th.

  I received a message this morning before I’d even woken up.

  It was sent from Gerald Archibald, but it wasn’t Gerald Archibald. It was Ryan Stems. Evidently, Matt hadn’t switched back to disabling their access.

  We need to talk. This whole situation has gotten messed up. Let’s meet. Just the two of us. Hwy 652 over the Abitibi River at noon. Bring an appetite.

  “It’s a trap,” Kayla said when I showed her my tablet. “He wants to take you into custody for the attack on Archibald.”

  “He doesn’t need to trap me,” I said. “If he wanted to he could crash through our gates and shoot every last one of us.”

  “That’s a happy thought.”

  “It’s a happy day.”

  “You’re not going to go...”

  “I’m a curious person, Kayla. I have to find out what he wants.”

  “He wants you dead.”

  “I don’t think so. Gerald Archibald might want me dead. Maybe. But not Ryan Stems.”

  “You are going to feel pretty stupid when he shoots you in the head. And you know what? I’ll just laugh and say ‘I told you so’.”

  “You’d laugh?”

  “I’d laugh.” She leaned in and gave me a kiss. “Seriously, though... don’t go.”

  But she knew I was going
.

  I told Lisa what was happening, and she and Graham went with me with the cart to 652, while Kayla and Matt headed over to the Marchands to see about setting up another defensive line across the road.

  “He’s going to kill you,” Graham said.

  “He won’t kill you,” Lisa said. “But if he does... well, oops.”

  I laughed. I guess it was a nervous laugh.

  “So if he tries to take you?” Lisa asked.

  “Run up and shoot him,” I said. “Or shoot me. Just shoot somebody.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  Graham stopped the cart at a driveway to one of the burnt-out houses, two back from the bridge.

  I hopped down and started walking toward the river, with just my SIG and my vest. Graham and Lisa had a third helmet with them, but it wouldn’t do me any good back on the cart.

  As I approached the bridge I could see Stems through the metal gate, sitting at what appeared to be a folding wood table, like you’d see at a garden reception. He was sitting alone, but I could see a couple of trucks on the far side of the bridge.

  He raised a hand straight into the air, some kind of wave.

  I did the same.

  I reached the gate and pulled out my key.

  “It’s a good gate,” Stems said. “I’m not even sure we could bust through it without a tank or something.”

  “Then I guess you’d better get yourself a tank,” I said.

  “Working on it.”

  I disabled the alarm with my dongle, and stepped through the gate. I relocked and reactivated on the other side.

  “We’re thinking of getting our own gate,” Stems said. “Come and sit down, Baptiste. I think you’ll like what we’ve got for lunch.”

  It was a little cold for dinner on a patio, but I sat down.

  There was nothing on the table.

  “Where’s Sara Vachon?” I asked.

  “We’ll talk about her. Don’t worry... we’ll get there.”

  I saw a young woman walking toward us. It was Stems’ young wife, Anna, carrying two plates.

  She placed one down in front of me, and then the other in front of Stems. On my plate was a stack of four pancakes, with a square of butter on the top.

  “Thank you,” I said to her.

  She nodded and walked back toward the trucks.

  “There’s more,” Stems said. “Hold on.”

  Another young native woman came to the table with a porcelain pitcher of syrup and a matching bowl. In the bowl were fresh bananas, cut into pieces.

  I thanked her.

  She smiled and kept standing by the table.

  “All the way from Georgia,” Stems said.

  “That’s something.”

  He smiled. “I’m trying to impress you, Baptiste.”

  “I’m already seeing someone.”

  “These bananas came up the Mississippi on a barge. Then they put them on a truck and drove them across Michigan and dropped them off in Sudbury. That’s where we got them.”

  “The Mississippi doesn’t run through Georgia.”

  “That was the abbreviated version. Anyway, Anna’s sister Genevieve went down to Sudbury and picked them up just for us.” He looked up at the young woman beside the table. “Thank you again, Genevieve.”

  “My pleasure,” she said. She smiled at me again and then she left the table.

  I had a feeling that Stems was trying to keep me distracted with his cavalcade of pretty girls. Apparently my reputation has spread.

  “You’re supposed to ask how she got to Sudbury,” Stems said. “Come on, Baptiste... you have to know a little bit about the local geography to get the full effect.”

  “I know the fastest way to get from Mississauga to Markham during rush hour. That’s about it.”

  “Humour me.”

  “Okay... so how did she get to Sudbury?”

  “Through Timmins. You see Baptiste, I can send my wife’s little sister -- with a light escort -- through a town run by a motorcycle gang, without the slightest need to worry for her well-being. Because the Mushkegowuk Nation is strong enough to earn their respect.”

  “But not strong enough to scare off a few guys with painted helmets and mounted machine guns.”

  That didn’t seem to irk him as much as I’d hoped. “Do you see them anywhere?”

  “I don’t get out much these days.”

  “They’re gone. Tucked their tails between their legs and run off home to Detour Lake.”

  “Detour Lake, eh? Not sure I buy that. One of those assholes reminded me a lot of you.”

  “Ruggedly handsome?”

  “So fucking ugly he keeps his stupid helmet on. Thinks he’s a coyote trapped in a pervert’s body... likes to have fun with teenage girls... and seems to prefer it if those girls aren’t having fun right back. Sound familiar?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t bother trying to make me hate you, Baptiste. I’m there already. Didn’t stop me from saving your ass from those little boys and their technicals.”

  “You saved me, did you? And the proof is where, exactly?”

  “The proof is in your girls still being snug in their beds. No one’s taken them yet, have they?”

  “Is that a threat?”

  He sighed. “I’m going to eat now.”

  He took off his gloves.

  He took a spoonful of bananas and spread them over his pancakes. Then he drowned the plate in syrup and started eating.

  I did the same, more or less, keeping my gloves on.

  I hadn’t eaten bananas in two years; they were gone from the shelves months before the comet struck.

  “It’s good,” Stems said. “Right? I didn’t even like bananas before.”

  “What kind of monster doesn’t like bananas?”

  “So Gerald’s okay, by the way.”

  “Oh. Yeah... that’s good.”

  “He doesn’t blame you, Baptiste. He blames Justin Porter.”

  “Same here. So he’ll trade Sara for Justin then?”

  “I’ve told Gerald that this fight is over.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “You’re not a threat to us, Baptiste.”

  “Thanks.”

  “We have three strategic rivals. And one rogue state.”

  “And which one are we?”

  “You’re not even on the list.”

  “Again... thanks...”

  “I’m not worried about The Souls, or Aiguebelle, or Sudbury right now. We have an understanding with each of them. But I am worried about our little North Korea.”

  “Detour Lake.”

  “There could be up to three hundred people up there. And twice as many guns. And they’re running out of food with no way to replenish.”

  “No way short of coming over here and taking some.”

  “This way or Aiguebelle,” Stems said. “And it’s my job to make sure they head east instead of west. That’s where you come in.”

  “So I do merit a mention?”

  “You’re our buffer state, Baptiste.”

  “I’m thrilled.”

  “You guys don’t have near enough supplies to feed Detour Lake, and they know that if they attack you they’re basically declaring war on us. So it buys us a little breathing room, some time to prepare if they make their move.”

  “I’m your canary?”

  “Or guinea pig. Whatever you prefer.”

  “So you’re asking me if I want to be your buffer?”

  Stems chuckled. “No... I’m telling you how it is. Do you think anyone ever asked Afghanistan for permission?”

  “And it’s worked out so well for everyone.”

  “Look... this is win-win. You get to chart your own course, look after your own... and we get to continue bringing a better life to the people of the Mushkegowuk Nation.”

  “And you’ll bring Sara home.”

  “Sara isn’t coming home, Baptiste.”

  I kicked my chair back and stood. I pulled out my SI
G and pointed it at his head.

  He didn’t flinch.

  “Where is she?” I asked.

  “Put the gun away so we can talk.”

  I put it away. I could always bring it out again.

  I sat down.

  “I had to give Gerald something,” Stems said.

  “What did he do to her?”

  “Not like that, Baptiste. She’s safe.”

  “Then where the hell is she?”

  “Kapuskasing. She lives with Genevieve.”

  “No, she lives with me. And it’s time for her to come home.”

  “Gerald doesn’t trust you. Can you blame him? So Sara will remain under the protection of the Mushkegowuk Nation until I can convince the Chief and Council of Taykwa Tagamou that you and Justin Porter no longer pose a threat.”

  “I have no problem handing Justin Porter over to you. You can make breakfast sausage out of him if you want. But Sara comes home.”

  “You didn’t hear me, Baptiste. They see you as a threat, too. Now I told Gerald that his people are to stay out of your territory from here on in. He’s promised to do that.”

  “Oh... he promised...”

  “Unlike you, I have a way of making sure people don’t lie to me. There won’t be any more theft of supplies. There won’t be any more trespassing of any sort.”

  “The only way to fix New Post is to move them to your side of the river,” I said. “If the river is the border, the river is the border.”

  “I’m already working on that. There’s no point in having them on your side of the Abitibi when there’s plenty of room in the Nation.”

  “And if you really want peace, you need to bring Sara back here.”

  “She’s not coming back. Get used to it. And don’t bother shooting me. Neither of us are any good to her dead.”

  “Fuck you, Stems.”

  “Fuck me? This is good for all of us, Baptiste.”

  I stood up from the table. I had to get away from Ryan Stems. I wanted to kill him more than I wanted to continue living.

  “We’re calling you East Abitibi,” Stems said as I walked back to the gate and pulled out my dongle and key. “Has a bit of an East German sound to it.”

  I didn’t have anything to say.