“Yeah,” I said. “White people, eh?”
Lisa nodded. “You’re still half-racist, Baptiste. Never forget.”
“Enough goddamn chit chat,” Justin said. “I’ll be outside in twenty minutes. Bring me a vest and helmet. There’s no way we should show up without our gear.”
“Agreed,” I said.
“If that’s decided,” Sara said, “I think we’re done.”
“You mean adjourned?” Lisa asked.
“Whatever.”
She stormed upstairs before Justin had the chance to stomp out through the living room.
You know things are messed up when Lisa starts looking like the calm one.
“So what do we do?” Lisa asked me.
Justin was outside, waiting to go. Apparently his strategy was to pretend like we had no reason to hate him.
“What can we do?” I asked. “Can we shoot him?”
“Make it look like an accident?”
“We still need him.”
“He tried to kill you, Baptiste.”
“I don’t think he did. It’s not like he’s been giving orders to Detour Lake. He’s just under the mistaken impression that we can work with them.”
“He can work with them,” Lisa said. “You and I are the ones who can’t. Unless those assholes want to give us some kind of ‘honourary Aryan’ badges. I honestly think we should make sure Justin Porter has an accident. You already threw a nice one for Marc Tremblay.”
“I don’t know…”
“He’s going to cost us. More than we can pay.”
“Once he’s gone, he’s gone,” I said. “That’ll weaken us.”
“We need people we can trust.”
“We need people who can shoot.” I picked the third riot suit up out of the chest. “At least for now.”
Justin, Lisa and I were in full gear when we took the Tremblays’ truck to New Post. There was still enough diesel for the trip (but not much more), and I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of Ryan Stems and his guns tearing through what little horse flesh we have.
They were expecting us, with almost a dozen people waiting for us at the New Post gate. I counted six hunting rifles and a shotgun, and a couple of council members standing behind the engine block of a pickup.
No sign of Stems.
We got out of the truck and walked towards them in a line, our guns at our sides, but ready. Justin looked just as comfortable with his rifle as I was with the Mossberg, while Lisa actually seemed the shakiest for once.
Gerald Archibald stepped around his hiding place and walked up to us.
I guess he didn’t think we’d shoot him.
“I’m sorry, guys,” he said as he held out his right hand.
I wasn’t about to shake it. “What kind of arrangement do you have with Ryan Stems?” I asked.
“Stems has guns. That’s the extent of it. He came to the rail bridge yesterday morning and we had to let him through.”
“What’s the point of even having gates?” Lisa asked.
“Do you really think we were going to fight a war because a fellow member of the Mushkegowuk Nation wants to pass through our land?”
“I don’t believe you,” Lisa said. “Ryan Stems isn’t a threat to you. Don’t bother with this ‘under duress’ garbage.”
“So what happens when Stems asks you to go to war with us?” Justin asked.
“No one’s going to war,” Gerald said.
Justin took a step closer to Gerald, sizing him up. “I’m ready. I want you to know that.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No one wants threats,” I said. “I just don’t know how we can trust you.”
Gerald nodded toward Justin. “And you trust this guy?”
“What’s not to trust?” Lisa said. “He steals, he lies…”
“Watch it,” Justin said.
“Go ahead,” I said. “I’d love to see what happens when you take a shot at Lisa. I’m guessing it’ll end with your face in the snow.”
“I can’t promise to support you against Stems and the Mushkegowuk Nation,” Gerald said. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“We get that,” Lisa said. “But it was pretty shitty for you guys to deactivate our alarm system.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We have the logs, Gerald. You guys turned off our alarm so Stems could sneak up on us.” She was convincing; I almost believed her.
“It’s an act of war,” Justin said. “You know that, right?”
“I’m sorry,” Gerald said. “I don’t want this to get in the way of our friendship.”
“There’s no friendship here,” I said. “You stabbed us in the back, and you’ve just admitted that you’ll do it again and again.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“There’s no point in talking about this. There’s no point in us even being here. We need to get home and take care of our own.”
“I’m sorry, Baptiste,” Gerald said.
“Don’t bother,” I said.
Justin opened his visor and spit on the ground. He then marched off, headed back towards the truck.
Lisa backed away slowly, keeping her shotgun ready.
I turned my back to leave, trusting that they’d have no reason to shoot me.
We got back to the Tremblays’ truck and made our way back home.
I told Matt to cut them off from the hop. I wanted them nowhere near our network.
I’ll be happy if I never see or hear from another one of those New Post assholes again.
Today is Saturday, December 29th.
Sara and I decided to spend some time after breakfast going over the inventory. After a cursory display of helping clean up the dishes, I went out to the table to find that Sara had already unfolded her tablet to widescreen.
“Ready for business, eh?” I said.
“I’ve sent you something,” she replied.
I took out my tablet.
“You’ll need to go bigger,” she said.
“So detail-oriented,” I said. “ Très sexy.”
She didn’t smile. “Let’s just get started.”
I unfolded my tablet to the wider screen. “Inventory list? Don’t I have this?”
“It’s a new version,” she said. “For your eyes only.”
I chuckled.
“It’s not a joke, Baptiste.”
I opened the document. “Four scenarios?”
“Just read.”
“None of these sound too promising. Porters and Tremblays leave with over half our supplies? A ‘cold war’ with New Post? Wow, Sara…you’re supposed to be the optimist.”
“There’s an optimists’ scenario. The one marked ‘rainbows and unicorns’.”
“What’s gotten into you? What is this?”
She groaned. “It’s reality, Baptiste. Things are going from bad to worse, and I don’t see how we’re going to turn it around.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Justin’s about to do something stupid. I just don’t know what. And Stems won’t put up with us scavenging across the river anymore…”
“Put up with us? Like he has a choice…”
“We don’t have many friends left, Baptiste. It’s getting pretty close to us against everyone else.”
“And that’s my fault, right? That’s your big lesson here?”
“What do you want me to say? You want me to pretend that every decision you’ve made was the right one?”
“They all seemed right at the time. Like you could do any better.”
“That’s not what I’m saying…” she turned away from me.
“Then what are you saying, Sara? Please…tell me…” I grabbed her hand and gave it a little squeeze.
She yanked her hand away. “Don’t.”
“What is it? What’s the problem?”
“You’re my problem. And I’m stuck with you. You run around flirting with every pussy in the district, and I just have to sit bac
k and take it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Suzanne Tremblay…Katie Walker…Kayla Fucking Burkholder…what is it with you?”
“I haven’t done anything!”
“Maybe…maybe not yet…”
“Are we going to talk inventory or not?”
She grabbed her tablet and stood up from her chair. “Just read, Baptiste. And message me when you’re done. I don’t want to be around you right now.”
Sara stormed back up the stairs.
That’s about all she ever does these days.
After an auspiciously Sara-free lunch, I decided to help Kayla outside. It was probably the nicest day since the snow had fallen, so that was a bonus.
“Do you really check the water every day?” I asked as she headed into the chicken coop.
“Twice a day, actually,” she said. “But only in winter. Can’t let it freeze.”
“You’d think Graham could wire something up for that. A thermometer…”
“Some things are just better the way they are. Nice and simple.”
“Simple. Sounds nice…”
“I already said that,” she said with a grin. “No eggs…I would have thought there’d be some since this morning. Our hens are getting older.”
We started walking over to the goat pen.
“I’m thinking we can try again this year,” Kayla said. “Throw one of the roosters in and let nature take its course.”
“I think it was the weather. Bad air, bad food…this year will be better.”
“I hope so.”
We checked the goats’ feed and water.
“So Graham lets you handle the goats now?” I asked.
“He doesn’t like it. But whenever Suzanne Tremblay beckons, Graham goes running.”
“He’s still doing that?”
“She’s French…he’ll always do that. Until Lisa kills him.”
“I don’t get that. What’s so special about French women?”
“Says the guy who likes to canoodle with Sara Vachon. ”
“Yeah, sure. But what does Suzanne Tremblay have over Lisa…or you?”
“Or me?”
I think I was blushing. “Come on, Kayla…you’re…I just don’t see what’s special about Suzanne.”
She stuck her finger out and poked me in the nose. “You’d fuck her.”
“No comment.”
She laughed. “Women suck, Baptiste. You know…other women. They get all pissy whenever their guy’s eye starts wandering…like it’s a personal affront to them that he’d ever think about doing what his body’s programmed to do.”
“Fuck strippers?”
She glared at me.
It took me a moment to realize what I’d said.
“You’d fuck me,” she said. “Even if I was a filthy stripper.”
“I’m sorry…it was just another stupid attempt at a joke.”
“It’s okay, Baptiste. You don’t need to apologize to me. I get you, you know?”
“Yeah…”
“Goats are good. It’s all good. We should sit on the dock and get wasted.”
I was tempted to say yes. Wouldn’t Sara love that, seeing me sharing a bottle with Kayla Fucking Burkholder.
Maybe she’d realize that her bitch routine was the quickest way to get me down to that dock with Kayla.
“I should get going,” I said. “I have some reading to do.”
She smiled. “That won’t stop me from getting drunk on the dock.”
“I know. That’s what I like about you Kayla…you’re nice and simple.”
She punched me lightly on the shoulder.
I waved goodbye.
It’s been a year and three months since the day that Sara and Lisa showed up at our door.
It was late September, not that it was recognizable. The ash clouds seemed just as thick as they’d been since the comet, and the ground was frozen but barren of snow. There hadn’t been much of anything, not much rain…the only thing that even reminded us of normal weather was the wind, and by late September that wind was getting colder.
Sara was dressed for the coming winter, like she’d expected a blizzard at any moment. She smiled at Graham as he opened the door; I doubt she even suspected that I had a shotgun trained on her chest.
Not that I was sure I’d be able to pull the trigger.
Lisa knew I was there; she couldn’t see me, but she knew. She was holding an old Winchester that looked like it hadn’t been fired in fifty years; there was no way it was serviceable, and from the way she was holding it, I could tell that she knew enough about guns to know that all she had was a bluff for idiots.
And she knew we weren’t idiots.
“My name’s Sara Vachon,” Sara said as she held out her hand.
Graham took it. “We’ve met,” he said. “I think…”
“Well you’re Graham Ellie…”
“I guess I’m famous.”
“You’re not famous,” Lisa said.
“This is Lisa,” Sara said. “Lisa Wesley. She’s in charge of charming people.”
Graham offered Lisa his hand.
She glared at him like he’d just pulled down his pants.
I did my best not to laugh out loud.
“Is there something I can help you with?” Graham asked.
“We heard that Fiona Rees is with you,” Sara said. “That you took her in.”
“Sorry…I don’t know her.”
“You’re lying,” Lisa said.
“You’re charming.”
“Look,” Sara said, “we need your help. We’ve got nowhere to go.”
“It’s just the two of you?”
“Four,” Lisa said.
That set me off. They’d expected us to take them in, but they were hiding half their people out of sight.
“Husbands?” Graham asked. “Kids?”
“Just two more mismatched socks,” Sara said.
“Where are they?”
“They’re in position,” Lisa said.
“Oh…to take us out?”
“To keep us safe.”
That was too much for me.
I laughed.
“What’s so goddamn funny?” Lisa asked, looking upstairs to my open window.
“Your gun can’t shoot and I can see your car up the road,” I said. “With two people cowering inside.”
“Glad we’re entertaining you,” Sara said.
“Who are they?” Graham asked. “The other two.”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters,” I said. “We’re not really looking for more liabilities.”
That set Fiona off; she was supposed to stay in the basement stairwell, quiet as a mouse, but instead she marched out to the front porch, pushed past Graham, and walked right down the steps to the gravel walk. She turned up to my window.
“I’m a liability?” she asked. “Are you kidding me? Who cooks your meals, Baptiste?”
“Get inside,” I said.
“Hello, Fiona,” Sara said.
“Fiona! Get inside.”
“We don’t know anything about you,” Graham said. “How can you expect us to just let you come in?”
“We don’t expect you to,” Lisa said.
“We don’t have any other options,” Sara said. “You guys are it.”
“So what are you offering?” I asked.
Sara glanced upward, trying to get a look at me. “We’re not offering our bodies. I can tell you that.”
“I mean supplies. Do you have any supplies?”
“No.”
“That makes it easy.”
“Not funny,” Fiona said.
“You guys must bring something to the table,” Graham said. “Right?”
At the time I’d figured he was interested in Sara; I’d certainly been drawn to her.
“We’re willing to work,” Lisa said. “And I can hunt.”
“Matt is strong,” Sara said. “He can help with that kind
of thing.”
“What about you?” Graham asked.
“I’m not as strong, but I’m alright.”
“And the other one?” I asked.
“Kayla,” Lisa said. “She’s…she’s something.”
“Something?”
“You’ll like her,” Sara said. “Every man does.”
“Maybe you should have led with her,” I said.
“You’re an asshole,” Lisa said.
Graham laughed.
And I realized who he was really interested in.
“Bring the other two up here,” I said. “Then we’ll talk it over.”
I already knew how I felt about them.
Sometimes being pretty isn’t enough.
7
Today is Sunday, December 30th.
The tripwire alarm on the Abitibi bridge sounded this morning before anyone was up. It was the first time I’d even heard it since the Porters had arrived at that gate. I knew that it could be the Spirit Animals, but a frontal assault didn’t seem likely. They’d try to sneak up on us.
Or at least they’d jam the signal from the hops.
Lisa and Graham were downstairs before me, Lisa with armour on and her jacket piled overtop, and Graham checking the shotguns.
“The Spirit Animals?” Graham asked.
“I doubt it,” I said.
Lisa and I took the truck. We’d be able to make the trip in less than five minutes; to me, that’s worth the diesel it takes, for as long as we have it. I’m not sure how long it would take someone determined enough to break through the locks on our best gate, but I knew it would take longer than we’d give ‘em.
I could hear ATVs revving up the road from the north shore cottages, probably the Porters. I wasn’t sure if we really needed backup, not that there was much I could do to stop it.
In the end Lisa and I got to the gate in less than four minutes.
Standing by the gate was Eva Marchand.
“This is new,” Lisa said.
I threw my helmet on and climbed out of the truck while Lisa readied the shotgun from her seat.
I left the door open so she could hear.
Eva’s gloved hands clasped in front of her. Her red pickup truck was waiting on the far side, off the bridge completely, with the skinny kid and one of her thirty-something sons, maybe, standing beside it with their rifles.
“What are you doing here, Eva?” I asked. I wasn’t unfriendly.
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