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

by Wolfrom, Regan

  It didn’t matter as long as they weren’t after Fiona anymore.

  I caught a glimpse of her just beyond a bend, her scarlet red jacket poking through a small stand of birch trees. She was walking back toward me, her red-brown hair bouncing in a tight ponytail. I’d already warned her about wearing her hair like that.

  Des met her halfway, jumping at her hips, his tail wagging.

  “Fiona,” I said. My voice was hoarse, not from yelling but from trying to catch my breath; I’d pushed myself a little too hard to reach her.

  She flashed me a quick little smile, but I could see that she’d been crying once again.

  I tried to give Fiona a smile of my own, one just as fake, but I couldn’t make it stick; all I wanted to do was scream at her.

  As much as I love her -- and maybe I love her almost as much as Cassy -- for that first few seconds, after I thought I might’ve lost her forever... it’s the rage that came first.

  I managed to hold it in.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked as she knelt down to scratch behind Desmond’s ears.

  “It’s not safe,” I said. “You know that you shouldn’t be out here alone.”

  “More double standards,” she said in classic sixteen-year-old, chock full of outrage and disgust. “Is it because I’m a woman, or because I’m the youngest?”

  “It’s because it’s not safe.” I wrapped my right arm around her and used my left hand to brush a few stray strands of hair aside from her face. I gave her a kiss right next to the little mole on her left cheek, at that spot where her skin first starts to blush.

  “Matt goes out by himself all the time.”

  “Matt’s an idiot. Always travel in pairs... that’s the rule. Matt doesn’t listen but I expect more from you.”

  “I know you do,” she said, her eyes meeting mine.

  I think she understood what I was trying to say. Fiona understands me pretty well.

  “Why were you out here by yourself?” I asked. “You didn’t even bring the dogs.”

  I didn’t mention the coyotes.

  “I’m always by myself. I just decided to be by myself out here for a change.”

  I sighed; Fiona’s helped me remember just how melodramatic teenagers can be. But I know that she’s not putting on a show for me; there’s hurt in there, more than enough for someone that young.

  I shot her a smile. “You’ll always have me, Fiona. I was put on this Earth simply to annoy you.”

  “I know...”

  “You know... but...”

  She shook her head. “I just wish I fit in a little better... you know, with Kayla and Matt and everyone. Now that... now that Ant’s gone, I’m kinda on the outside of everything.”

  “It’ll take some time,” I said. “But soon the day will come when you’ll have transformed into a godless alcoholic and you’ll fit in perfectly.”

  I saw the start of another smile creeping onto her face. It looked real this time.

  “Now there’s this hayride...” I said. “We’re going to go down to New Post and back.”

  “I’m not really in the mood.”

  “None of us are in the mood, Fiona. That’s why we need to do it. We need something good to happen.”

  “Why bother? There’s no point.” She shook her head. “There’s no point to any of this... stuff.” Her smile was gone again.

  “It’ll get better,” I said. “Today will be better than yesterday... and yesterday was a hell of a lot better than Sunday. And tomorrow --”

  “Just don’t... nothing’s getting better for me. Tomorrow’s going to be just as bad.”

  “Today, then... think about today, okay? Today I’m going to strut around like a rooster on the back of that cart, and that’s when your cue to throw my cocky ass into the mud. Multiple times. Until I cry like a small child. Have you ever seen me cry like a small child, Fiona?”

  She gave a little smirk.

  “You know you want to see that,” I said, hoping she’d give me a chance.

  Her face softened a little. “Well obviously I can’t pass that up.”

  “I know what you young people like.”

  She nodded her head and smiled, but there were still tears in her eyes. I knew they wouldn’t just dry up and disappear in an instant.

  We headed back toward the cottage where the cart was waiting, our feet crunching through the dried leaves along the path.

  Des continued to sniff the air, keeping his gaze on the trees. I didn’t expect the coyotes to show themselves to the three of us; they only seem to attack when the numbers are on their side.

  As we walked I kept my left hand on the small of Fiona’s back, and a couple of times on the way we’d glance at each other, and she’d smile gently, and I’d nod, and that would be it.

  We didn't need to talk.

  Fiona was still hurting; I think Fiona will always be hurting. Our past gets carved into us, like markers in our genes.

  Whoever Fiona was before The Fires... I never got a chance to know that girl.

  Today is Wednesday, December 5th.

  I met Justin Porter at the junction with Nelson Road this morning, a lot closer to my cottage than his. It was cold, but not too bad; the overcast sky probably brought the temp up a couple of degrees. Last winter had been the coldest I’d ever known, the dust clouds choking out what little heat you’d get from the sun; we’d all take shifts cutting wood from morning ‘til midnight, worried to death that we’d run out of heat.

  The skies have cleared now.

  The weather’s back to normal.

  That’s about the only thing that’s back to normal.

  “No sun,” Justin said, his first words to me when we met. He didn’t wait long before he started running again.

  “I don’t miss it,” I said as I struggled to keep up. “My eyes aren’t used to the bright anymore.”

  “Bah,” he said. “I hate waking up without the sun. I like to keep tabs on it, make sure it’s still around. We’d be royally hooped if we lost it again.”

  I almost said something, that I was sure the dust clouds wouldn’t be coming back.

  But what the hell do I know?

  “I couldn’t get enough of it when it first broke through,” I said. “I remember Kayla spent hours in the sun, burning herself on purpose.”

  Justin grinned. “Sexiest lobster I’ve ever seen.”

  “Man was she red.”

  “She still looked real good. Really, really good. Seeing Kayla in a bikini was like getting a rimjob from Jesus.”

  “What?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I know how I feel when I see her. I’m not going to talk about it, though. Kayla’s only twenty two; that makes Justin at least a decade too old for her. And I’m a lot older than he is.

  I was feeling out of breath. We were running at full pace now. Justin runs with a full load, humping a pack and a rifle like he’s in basic. And I’m pissy because I don’t have a proper jog holster for my gun.

  I wanted to ask him to slow down. My defib was back at home, and I hadn’t even stretched yet. But the last thing I need is to look old and weak in front of Justin Porter. I wouldn’t say we’re competing against each other, but I’m sure some people wonder why I’m calling the shots around here and he’s sitting back and letting me.

  “I’ll slow it down,” he said. “I forget that you don’t do this every day.”

  “Go fuck yourself,” I said. “I’ll bet you won’t be doing five klicks on gravel when you’re my age.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll be upright when I’m your age. Tell me, what was Napoleon like? Did you know him personally?”

  I huffed. “He wasn’t as short as people think.”

  I heard a squirrel chattering in the trees, laughing at the old man pretending he could keep up.

  Justin slowed down a little. Probably not enough.

  “I’m sure if you really wanted to you could get back into it, Baptiste,” he said. “You just n
eed to make it a habit again.”

  “Tell that to my antique heart.”

  I took a shallow breath.

  “The coyotes are back,” I said.

  “I heard. Matt told me.”

  Of course. I assume Matt also reports to Justin everytime he takes a big boy shit.

  “We should bait ‘em,” Justin said. “One plump little chicken should do the trick.”

  “I don’t think so. I can try the rabbit call again... it might work now that food’s getting scarce again.”

  “Don’t worry, Baptiste. I’ll make sure the chicken doesn’t get hurt. I know how close you are to each and every one of them.”

  “We shouldn’t start drawing the pack over to us. The last thing we ought to be doing is screaming out ‘hey, guys, free meal over here’.”

  Justin laughed. “You’re kidding, right? They already know there’s a meal here.”

  “I doubt even a starving pack of coyotes would be dumb enough to take Carcass on.” I wouldn’t be dumb enough to mess with our Great Pyrenees, and I’m the one who feeds him.

  “I’m not talking about the chicken coop. I’m talking about Fiona. Or whoever else is dumb enough to wander off by themselves. That trail around the lake might as well be a buffet line.”

  “That’s a little overstated.”

  “You should close that trail off completely. That’s what I’d do.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “if you were in charge, eh?”

  “It’s just a suggestion.”

  “Yeah... noted.”

  “Don’t worry... I’ll take care of these damned coyotes.”

  “Just don’t bait them,” I said.

  He gave a nod that I knew meant nothing.

  We reached the steel gate on Nelson Road. I was tired and I’d had about enough of Justin. I was tempted to pretend I’d forgotten my key.

  “I’ve got it,” Justin said as he ran up to the lock.

  “Since when do you have a key?”

  “Matt and I cut some last time we were in Cochrane. They have one of those coin-operated jobs at the Home Hardware.”

  There was a reason I’d only wanted two copies of each key. Now I wouldn’t be able to keep track of who had what. Justin knows why I had it that way. He knows but he doesn’t care.

  He was making a statement, taking another shot at me.

  “You’ll still set off the alarm,” I said. “Unless those key-cutters can magically copy a dongle.”

  “I already have a dongle.”

  “What?”

  “Matt gave me Ant’s.”

  “That’s completely unacceptable.”

  And it was a fuck-up on my end.

  “If you don’t trust me, just say it. But don’t expect me to hand it back.”

  “Whatever,” I said. It wasn’t like I had a way to take it from him, short of shooting him in the face.

  We crossed through the gate and kept on our way. I knew the route; he’d drag my ass all the way to the Linden homestead at the end of Nelson Road. The Lindens had left with Fisher Livingston. So naturally, they’re good and dead.

  “There’s no electricity at the Home Hardware,” I said.

  “Don’t worry... we brought our own. I do know how to run an extension cable from my dashboard.” He grinned. “The beauty of owning an electric car is that you don’t worry so much about using up a little extra juice. Don’t you wish you had one, Baptiste?”

  Another shot.

  I tried to speed up, but I could feel that all I’d get for that was a cramp. I didn’t have any extra in me.

  I’d just have to maintain.

  “I got into another classic discussion with Marc Tremblay,” Justin said.

  This was going to be interesting. For friends, those two weren’t particularly friendly with each other.

  “Let me take a shot,” I said. “Transgendered priests?”

  “Burma.”

  “You didn’t kill him... did you?”

  Justin shook his head. “He said that the only Right-To-Protect in Burma was the right to protect the Mottama oil fields.”

  “He has a hard-on about oil.”

  “Yeah. Fucking French... they hate oil but they’ll gladly spend the proceeds.” He looked embarrassed for a moment. “You know what I mean... French Canadians... pea soup and shit.”

  “I get it. Don’t worry... I’m the good kind of French. Chocolate covered and dipped in Scotch.”

  Justin laughed. “I like that.”

  “He must’ve forgot you served in Burma,” I said.

  “No... he mentioned it. Told me it wasn’t even a real war.”

  I’m not sure Marc was that far off about Burma. But then again, people used to say that about Afghanistan, too, so I’m probably just being a dick.

  “He’s trolling you,” I said. “He wants to stir the shit.”

  “I know. But I couldn’t help it. I just kept arguing with him.”

  “That’s a stupid thing to do.”

  “Well, since I was only in Burma because I’d volunteered for rotation, it’s clear I’m not that bright.”

  I chuckled at that.

  We crossed New Post Road and kept on toward the Lindens. I was able to keep up at Justin’s pity pace, but only just.

  “Okay,” Justin said. “I’ve gotta ask. I mean, you haven’t even mentioned it.”

  I knew he’d bring it up eventually.

  “I don’t want to get into it right now.”

  “We know who killed him,” he said. “They weren’t trying to keep it a secret. What did they call themselves?”

  “The Mushkegowuk Spirit Animals.”

  I thought back to Matt sputtering out the words. Three men in a grey Toyota, wearing visored combat helmets painted to look like a coyote, a tiger, a bear. They’d stopped our truck and they’d made Matt climb out. The man in the coyote helmet had walked around the back, to Ant. Three shots, no warning.

  Then the man in the tiger stripes had started to laugh, as Matt had pleaded for his life.

  “One of them is Ryan Stems,” Justin said. “I know it.”

  “Maybe... we don’t know for sure.”

  “Who else would come after us? Who else would be that goddamn stupid?”

  “Our guys weren’t protected. Ant wasn’t wearing his vest or his helmet.” Another deep breath. “And he was out riding in the back of an open grain truck with a fucking target on his back. Any idiot could have taken a shot at him. Given us some bullshit name so we’d put it all on Stems.”

  Justin slowed right down to a walk. “Ant wasn’t shot by some hunting rifle.”

  He didn’t have to tell me. I was the one who had to clean him up before we buried him. I was the one who had to tell Kayla and Fiona just how he’d died.

  I slowed his walk down to a breather. I’d barely be able to get through the argument standing still.

  “You know it was Stems,” Justin said. “You must be thinking the same thing I am.”

  “I’m not.”

  He almost laughed. “You’re not serious, Baptiste. We know what we need to do. We throw on our gear and we find him. We don’t make the same mistake again.”

  “Not right now,” I said. “We’re not ready.”

  “Not ready? What the hell are we waiting for?”

  I could tell that he honestly didn’t know. He was so wrapped up in getting Stems that he wasn’t thinking of what really counts. Sure... Justin has a family, but you’d swear he forgets that most of the time.

  And I’m always the one who has to remind him.

  “So you want to get him,” I said. “You and I up against Ryan Stems and who knows how many men. So maybe we’ll bring Lisa along, since she’s probably a better shot than either of us. And then you know what will happen? We end up driving halfway to Kapuskasing, we probably get ourselves killed, and then we’re down three people, the three people who are the best chance for keeping us alive. That’ll make everyone who’s left a lazy fucking Sunday for Ryan S
tems.”

  “Maybe ask your precious Supply Partnership for help.” He kicked his head back with a fake laugh. “Oh, what’s that? They don’t care if we live or die? Really?”

  “No one wants to throw their lives away.”

  “I can get a pile of guys down here from Detour Lake. We pay ‘em and they’ll fight.”

  “That’s no better than baiting coyotes,” I said. “Let’s go get those crazies sniffing around here.”

  “We do this now or we’ll regret it, Baptiste. Just like I’m sure you regret the last time you let him go.”

  He was going to keep on it. I’d let Ryan Stems go.

  That meant that Ant’s death was on me.

  Justin kept on talking. “If he’s taking shots at us on the road, it won’t be long before he decides to come at us where we live. We need to kill him. We should have killed him a long time ago.”

  I was starting to feel my heart beating too fast. I didn’t want to have this conversation. I couldn’t have this conversation.

  “You need to take charge here, Baptiste,” Justin said. “You’re the guy, aren’t you? We’re starting to look weak.”

  “You mean I’m looking weak.”

  “If we don’t hit back he’ll think we’re a bunch of pussies. I don’t know about you, but I’m not a pussy. Are you a pussy, Baptiste?”

  I wanted to punch Justin Porter in the face.

  “I don’t want to talk about this right now,” I said, trying my best to hold in the rage. “It’s been a rough few days. I’m really fucking tired.”

  “We’re all fucking tired. But we need to retaliate.”

  He didn’t get how far he was pushing me.

  “Just drop it,” I said. “It’s a stupid idea, alright? Revenge is something idiots do.”

  “So I’m an idiot.”

  “You’re definitely sounding like one right now.”

  “You sound like a coward, Baptiste. I thought you were better than this. If you’re too chickenshit to handle it, I’ll just grab Matt and the Tremblays and we’ll take care of it for you.”

  “Go ahead, Justin. Go find Stems and get yourself killed.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Well, that’s your plan, isn’t it? Team up with Captain Useless and the guys with dirt-clogged starter rifles? That’s your backup against a man who’s seen more action than the two of us combined? Brilliant fucking plan. Oh... I guess you’ll have a handful of those prepper assholes from Detour Lake with you, too, eh? You’ll still get yourself killed. By Stems or by the guys you just hired to watch your back.”