After The Fires Went Out: Coyote atfwo-1

by Regan Wolfrom

  “Is that what this roadblock is for?” I asked. “Are you hoping they’ll just fall into this clever little net of yours?”

  “It’s not a roadblock,” Walker said. “Not yet.”

  “We were actually trying to figure out if you were worth saving,” Justin said.

  “You guys’ve been here all night?” I asked.

  “The truck’s been here all night,” Rihanna said. “We don’t really have enough diesel to be tromping around the district. But Fisher drove us home last night.”

  I wasn’t pleased with the first-name basis. “So how did you get back? Don’t tell me Livingston stayed the night.”

  Rihanna chuckled. “You didn’t notice our little shitbox,” she said. She pointed to their little electric car parked a little up the road. I noticed a familiar idiot sitting in the front seat.

  “And you brought Matt,” I said.

  “He wouldn’t stay put.”

  Say what you will about Matt, he still seems to want me to like him, enough that he’d want to help. Or perhaps he had just hoped to see my dead body for himself.

  “Don’t tell me you guys were actually planning on coming back for me,” I said.

  “We weren’t going to leave you there,” Livingston said.

  “You’d have loved that, eh, Livingston? Saving my ass so I can’t keep telling you to kiss it?”

  “That was one of the perks.”

  I shook my head. “I appreciate the idiotic sentiment.” I looked back to the little rusted Honda. “I’ve got to take those girls home.”

  None of us spoke much as we made our way south towards the Girards.

  I had Natalie take the extra long way around Cochrane, since I didn’t have the energy to deal with whatever we might find in town.

  I knew I had to deal with the two remaining Spirit Animals, assuming that there wasn’t still a coyote to make three. It wasn’t about revenge for what they’d done to Natalie and Tabitha; those men would strike out again at someone…probably not us, not yet…but someone.

  I won’t be able to sit by and hope someone else kills them first.

  At one point I’m pretty sure I could hear Tabitha snoring, and I was glad that one of us was getting some sleep.

  “I need to ask you,” Natalie said to me as we neared Bondy Lake.

  “What is it?”

  “Would you ever consider letting us come live with you?”

  “Why would you want to do that? You have your family.”

  “I don’t want to be with my family.”

  “Hold on…when you were on your way to see us…were you hoping to move in with us?”

  She started to cry. “I don’t know how Antoine feels about me…but I’ve always wondered if he loves me.”

  “I don’t ― ”

  “I don’t expect you to know if he actually loves me,” she said, giving me a warm smile. “I just want a chance to ask him.”

  I knew Natalie didn’t want to go back home to her family, but where she hoped to go instead was a place that no longer existed, not the way she wanted it to be.

  I had to tell her that.

  “I need to tell you something,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Why don’t you pull over for a minute so it’s easier to talk.”

  I waited until the car was stopped; I then reached over and pulled out the keys.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “It’s about Ant,” I said. “We lost him.”

  “What do you mean you lost him? Where did he go?”

  “There was an accident, Natalie…Ant didn’t make it.”

  She collapsed against my shoulder, pounding her fists against me. Then she started to weep.

  And I wept, too.

  I don’t know if I’ve ever felt worse for anyone.

  I don’t know why that is.

  4

  Today is Tuesday, December 18th.

  Justin and Rihanna stopped by just before lunch, their two kids in tow. My first thought was to try and figure out how to keep them from staying over to eat, but Fiona seemed perfectly happy adding a few extra mouths, so we extended an invite and they accepted.

  I can’t tell if they’re trying to win me over.

  Having somewhat reliable electricity with the new solar plant has made a big difference for how we eat. Last year we had one small upright freezer on the geni, and we treated the microwave like a luxury item, only using it when we had no other choice; that meant the most meals were planned to provide just enough, with no expectation of leftovers, and oftentimes that actually ended up being not quite enough for everyone.

  But now Fiona always makes extra at dinner, and seals the remainder into one of over a hundred unused plastic food containers in our stockpile, adding the date and her own four-star rating before shoving it into one of the three chest freezers we now have on the go in the basement.

  So while she still loves to cook, or at least she tells me she does, there’s about a 50/50 chance these days that lunch will be “a la carte”, as she puts it, and we’ll all just grab our own entree from the freezer and wait our turn to heat it up. We should probably bring over a second microwave.

  The Porters are lucky that today happens to feature a fresh meal of grilled cheese sandwiches and cream of vegetable soup.

  We sat down around the long pinewood table, and with the four Porters we filled up every chair but Ant’s.

  By now everyone seemed to have gotten used to what had happened yesterday, but I could still tell that there was a strange reverence for me from a few people that I didn’t really deserve. I tried to keep the details of what happened unsaid, particularly when Kayla and Fiona were around…I just said that there were two girls who were stranded up there, and left it at that. I know there’s something patronizing about my urge to cover things up, but I’m not sure I’m sorry for it.

  “So there’s a reason we stopped by,” Justin said as he eyed me eating my soup.

  “I figured,” I said. “I just assumed it was something about Silver Queen Lake.”

  “Yup…”

  “I haven’t really had a chance to process it all. Right now I’m having trouble imagining how we can get at those supplies without exposing ourselves too much.”

  “I know. It’s not something we can handle on our own.”

  “I wasn’t expecting you to say that. I thought you were coming here to convince me that we needed to go back today.”

  “There’s no way you’re going back,” Sara said.

  I sighed. “We need to get those supplies somehow.”

  “I think you guys know about my phone,” Justin said.

  “The phone you won’t let us use?” Lisa asked.

  “I called everyone’s numbers. You know that. The networks were down all over the continent. I can barely get a signal, and we’re a lot closer to the Eastern Hemisphere than most people.”

  “That was two months ago,” Graham said. “I’m sure someone’s working to get things going again.”

  “Then we’ll try again soon, okay? But that’s not really the issue right now.”

  “What is the issue?” I asked.

  “I got a call from Dave Walker. Nice long message.”

  “I didn’t know you two were phone buddies.”

  Justin sighed. “There are around a dozen people in the district with working phones. I talk to all of them.”

  “And keep the details to yourself,” Lisa said.

  “So what did Dave Walker want?” I asked.

  “He made us an offer,” Justin said. “He told me that they’d be willing to work together with us to retrieve the supplies…that we could split everything up 50/50.”

  “That’s hard to believe,” Lisa said, her hand covering a mouthful of grilled cheese.

  “They’ve decided to take over the Smiths’ old roadblock,” Rihanna said. “They brought up a camper and a couple of trucks.”

  “I placed a call to D’Arcy at Detour Lake,” Jus
tin said. “He’s already gotten back to me with a nice counter-offer.”

  “No,” Sara said. “We’re not working with Detour Lake.”

  Justin shook his head angrily. “You’re not in charge.”

  “We’re not working with them,” I said. “They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

  “You need to rethink that policy, Baptiste.”

  “I’m pretty sure I don’t.”

  “Wait,” Graham said. “If we team up with the Walkers we’re pissing on the Supply Partnership. We shouldn’t even be talking to them at all after the stunt they pulled. Not until we get our fair share of their inventory.”

  “Good luck with that,” Justin said.

  “When do they want to start?” I asked. “ASAP?”

  “They don’t want to start emptying the cottages until we can get up there with a couple trucks of our own. They want two of us to help man the roadblock, and two to help with the loading. And they want you on the roadblock, Baptiste.”

  “It isn’t right,” Graham said.

  “And we’re going to somehow split everything up without any arguments or dirty tricks?” I asked.

  “What’s the other option?” Lisa asked. “We either take what we can get or we’re left with nothing.”

  “But I don’t understand,” I said. “Walker said he’d never work with me…what’s changed?”

  “He must have been struck with a rare bout of common sense,” Rihanna said. “You and Justin are the most highly-trained guys in the district.”

  “I think Stems has me beat.”

  “I know I have you beat,” Justin said.

  “We’d be betraying our friends,” Sara said. “The Marchands and the Girards. The Lamarches…”

  “There won’t be any Marchands or Girards or Lamarches soon,” Justin said.

  “So you’re planning on some more people snatching?” Lisa asked.

  “Fuck you.”

  Lisa stood up from the table. “How about I grab a broom handle and we see just who gets fucked?”

  “Easy guys,” I said. “We all know you hate each other. There’s no reason to keep reminding us.”

  “We can’t agree to this,” Sara said. “They betrayed all of us by dropping out of the partnership. We can’t reward them for that.”

  “Come on,” Kayla said. “No one cares about the stupid Supply Partnership.”

  Sara groaned. “No one asked you, Kayla.”

  “Maybe someone should start asking me…maybe you guys should stop treating me like a goddamn child.”

  “What are your thoughts, Kayla?” I asked. I had to start somewhere.

  She seemed surprised at the question. She looked around as though she was waiting for someone to jump in. “We need to show the Walkers that we’re not people they can take advantage of,” she said. “As long as we keep on with this stubborn attitude that we can’t do business with Detour Lake, the Walkers will know that we don’t have any choice but to deal with them.”

  “That’s it,” Justin said. “Exactly.” He was almost bouncing in his chair; I guess he’s not used to people agreeing with him around here.

  “If we teamed up with Detour Lake we’d be stronger than the Walkers. We’d be stronger than New Post, too…and probably Stems.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said. “Underestimating Stems is a bad idea.”

  “Do you even know what you’re talking about, Kayla?” Sara asked. “Those people up there are incredibly unbalanced. We can’t trust them.”

  Kayla groaned. “They’re unbalanced, are they? Just because they were smart enough to plan ahead?”

  “From what I’ve heard,” I said, “they have a whole lotta men and a handful of women. That’d make any group unbalanced. Add on some cabin fever and the various mental…uh…conditions that come from being a prepper…”

  “No,” Kayla said. “That’s not fair. These guys weren’t up there waiting for the Rapture or something. They knew what was happening and they acted. That’s not crazy…that’s smart.”

  “I think you wish you’d been a prepper,” Justin said.

  “I was a goddamn prepper.”

  “You were?” I asked. “For real?”

  “Yeah, alright? A full-on survivalist nutjob. And if I hadn’t caught my boyfriend humping the town skank of Kapuskasing I’d be living up at Detour Lake right now.”

  “Some rivalry there, eh?” Sara said. “You couldn’t let that bitch get away with it…Kayla the town skank of Cochrane has to represent.”

  We all turned to see what had just happened. I’d never heard Sara speak like that before.

  Kayla gasped along with the rest of us.

  “If you guys are going to call the Walkers,” Sara said, “do it on the radio in the Tremblays’ truck…not on Justin’s phone. No more phone calls behind people’s backs.”

  “What about the message this sends?” Lisa asked. I couldn’t tell if she was honestly wondering, or just trying to poke Sara.

  Sara slammed her hands down on the table. “I don’t care about the message! I am so sick of carrying this. If you guys don’t think the Marchands and the Girards matter…then fine. Do what you want to do.”

  She stood up and walked to the kitchen. The pans started clattering; she was pretending to do the dishes.

  “What is her problem?” Lisa asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “A lot of bad news and not much good, I guess.” I turned to Kayla. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Whatever.”

  “It’s not too late to do this right,” Justin said. “We team up with Detour Lake and send Walker packing.”

  “We’re not starting a war,” I said. “We team up with the Walkers and we go from there.”

  “I’d rather be the one who starts the war than the poor bastard who’s caught by surprise.”

  “There won’t be any surprises. I don’t trust the Walkers any more than I trust the guys at Detour Lake. We get in and get the supplies and we get out. No one’s getting married here.”

  Kayla stood up from the table. “We might as well be marrying them,” she said. “They’ve already got us on our back with our legs in the air.”

  As she walked out, Justin smiled at her.

  She nodded, but didn’t smile back.

  That was still more than I wanted to see between them.

  Since our smaller grain truck was still in a heap at the airport, we needed to find a second truck in order to carry our half of the haul we were expecting. The nice thing about being the last few stragglers in what was once a half-decent community is that there are still quite a few trucks left behind.

  Graham and the Porters and I piled into the Tremblay’s truck and headed up 652. We picked up a gravel truck at a yard just outside Cochrane, the first truck we saw, actually.

  It felt strange taking two trucks up there, not just because we had to siphon our scant diesel from the Tremblays’ grain truck to the new one, but because our homes at McCartney Lake would be down four people at a time when we’re not feeling particularly safe.

  With Graham and I gone, Lisa’s the only one at our place who has the know-how to use a shotgun; we left both of the big guns at home, but Matt’s still working on holding them properly. There are a surprising number of Tremblays who know how to shoot, so I wasn’t worried about them, but the Porters’ kids had to come up to our place since we certainly couldn’t leave them all alone. That leaves one cottage completely empty, but since there’s probably ten times more supplies at Silver Queen Lake than we have at the Porters’, I decided that it was worth the risk.

  We reached Silver Queen Lake by late morning, and I was glad to see that the Walkers were there waiting for us, with a large open-top grain truck.

  “We figured we’d start along the north shore,” Livingston said as I climbed out of the truck and started to suit up.

  “You’re in charge of the scavenging?” I asked.

  “Pretty much.”


  “And the divvying up, too, I’ll bet.”

  Livingston nodded to Graham as he joined us. “Your man will be there too,” he said. “Everything’s 50/50, Baptiste…as best as we can make it. And just to be sure you know there’s no hard feelings, I’ll make sure you guys get first pick.”

  “How nice,” I said.

  “Look…I know you still have a problem with me. I get that. But for the time being, it would be a lot simpler if we just try to get along.”

  I nodded; that was about all I was willing to give him.

  I turned to Graham. “I think you know what we need most,” I said.

  “Don’t worry,” Graham replied. “I’ve got us covered.”

  “Good man…and if there’s anything you’re not sure about, just give me a push on the handheld. I aim to please.”

  He smiled. “Will do, boss.”

  Justin and Rihanna walked over to us, each carrying a riot suit, vest and helmet.

  “You need to actually put that on,” I said to Justin. I turned to Livingston. “We’ve got a set for you guys, too. You’ll have to pick who gets to wear it.”

  Rihanna held out the gear; Livingston took them and held the vest close to his face, as though he were evaluating the fabric of a fine suit.

  And people wonder why I hate him.

  He placed the gear down in the near-frozen muck. I let it slide; I wasn’t the one who’d have to deal with how cold that riot suit would be.

  “Where are your people, anyway?” Justin asked Livingston.

  “We’ve got one shooter in position,” Livingston said. It sounded like he was trying to impress me.

  “What does that even mean?” I asked.

  “A sniper.”

  I laughed. “Good one. But seriously, do you really have some asshole hiding in the trees somewhere?”

  “I was hiding,” a woman’s voice called out.

  I turned to see her, about mid-thirties, dressed in camo. I recognized the face; I remember pretty much every woman in Cochrane who falls into a certain…uh, range.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, trying not to laugh again.

  “I know,” she said, “I look ridiculous.”

  “No…you look pretty good, actually. I certainly didn’t notice you when we were coming in.”