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

by Wolfrom, Regan

  “So we take a load from Helena, with some room to spare, and we mix in some extras from the magic school bus.”

  “We pile them in the basement, and while we’re at it, we figure out a special storage area for your crap.”

  “Under the subfloor. There’s a good half a meter under the plywood.”

  “Sounds pretty obvious to me.”

  “I’m open to ideas.”

  She shook her head at me. “You have a real talent for getting us to the worst case scenario, Baptiste.”

  “You think I should have just left it alone.”

  “Yeah... now you’ve stolen someone else’s drug stash and brought it home with you. What part of that plan makes sense?”

  “The previous owners are dead.” And I’d needed the MDMA. But I didn’t tell her that.

  “Dead, eh? You sure about that?”

  “Fifty percent sure...”

  “I think the only question is whether or not we’ll all live long enough to see this bite you in the ass.”

  At least I didn’t need to guess how she felt about it.

  By the time Lisa had pulled Graham aside and told him the story, it was almost seven at night, and we figured that it wouldn’t make much sense to be out hauling supplies in the middle of the night. We’d have to wait until morning.

  Of course, there’s our weekly meeting in the morning... always at just the wrong time.

  But I’d figure something out.

  In the meantime, I could hear laughing from upstairs in Fiona and Kayla’s room. Not just the two of them, but another laugh that I hadn’t heard before.

  I went upstairs to see.

  They were in the middle of a movie night, having brought the big screen upstairs and planted it on Fiona’s desk. Fiona was sitting on the bed beside the red-haired girl, who was sitting up for a change.

  Not only had no one invited me, but they’d decided to watch one of my old favourites.

  Or maybe they’d picked it because they knew it would lure me in.

  “Anchorman?” I said. “About time.”

  Fiona shushed me as Ron Burgundy explained the German roots of San Diago.

  I sat down on Kayla’s bed beside her.

  She gave me a quick squeeze on the thigh and a warm smile.

  I looked over to the red-haired girl and gave her a smile of my own.

  She saw me and looked back at the screen. She didn’t seem to want to acknowledge me.

  “I’ve never heard of that expression either,” Fiona said as she watched the movie. “When in Rome?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that.

  “Yazz flute?” she asked a moment later. “What’s that? I don’t really get this movie.”

  “It’s an acquired taste,” I said. “Maybe you had to be there.”

  “I can’t imagine you in one of those suits. Did you really dress like that?”

  I laughed. “I’m not that old, Fiona. This is set in the 1970s. How old do you think I am?”

  “Old enough to be born in the last millenium,” Kayla said. “That’s how old.”

  “Fuck,” I said. “I am old.”

  I noticed that the red-haired girl was glaring at me.

  I decided to shut up for a while.

  And I listened to them laugh, often at the wrong parts, like they found the idea of the movie trying to be funny a lot funnier than the actual jokes.

  But it was still nice to hear Kayla and Fiona laugh.

  The other laugh didn’t come back. The red-haired girl had withdrawn; she was still watching, but every few minutes she’d take a break from the movie long enough to give me an angry look.

  She didn’t want me there.

  But Kayla did.

  She was making sure her body was pressed against mine, nuzzling her head against my shoulder.

  Every so often I’d pull away a little, so that Fiona didn’t get the wrong impression.

  Or maybe so Fiona wouldn’t figure out exactly what I was starting to feel.

  Once the movie ended, the red-haired girl laid back down in Fiona’s bed.

  Fiona seemed surprised by that, and stood up. “Aren’t we going to watch number two?” she asked.

  “I’m tired,” the girl said.

  “You can’t be tired, Gwyneth,” Kayla said. “Not when there’s more Ron Burgundy on the way.”

  “Gwyneth...” I said. “So that’s your name...”

  “I’m tired,” the girl said again.

  “Maybe a drink?” Kayla asked.

  “We can watch it tomorrow night,” Fiona said. “It’s okay.”

  “I can make my famous nachos,” I said.

  “I’m not interested,” the girl said.

  “You don’t like nachos?”

  “I’m tired... can everyone just let me get some sleep?”

  “What’s going on, Gwyneth?” Fiona asked. “You were fine a few minutes ago.”

  “No, I wasn’t fine,” she said. “I’m not fine. Can you get him out of here please?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not sure what I said...”

  “Just get out of here!” she screamed.

  “Calm down,” Kayla said. “Don’t yell at him.”

  I got up off the bed and started walking out of the room.

  “You don’t have to go,” Kayla said.

  “I think you should,” Fiona said.

  I left the room.

  Kayla followed after me. All the way into my bedroom.

  She closed the door behind us.

  “I’m sorry, Baptiste,” she said. “I don’t know what that was about.”

  “She doesn’t like me,” I said. “That’s okay. She isn’t the first person to take an instant dislike to someone.”

  “It’s not okay.” She hung her arm over my shoulder. “I’ll talk to her.”

  “Don’t... she’s been through a lot, Kayla. More than I think either of us could ever understand. If hating on me helps her... well, that’s fine.”

  She nodded. “It’s too bad, though, eh?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s pretty cute... you know, in spite of the whole vastly underweight thing.”

  “I wouldn’t know...”

  “Come on... I’ll bet you were delighted to add another girl to the mix. One more flavour for your collection.” She wrapped her other arm around me and started pulling down on my neck. She gave me a quick kiss on the lips. “Don’t try and tell me you’re not interested in trying out a few new tastes.”

  I took a step back. “You can’t do that, Kayla.”

  “What?”

  “You can’t just kiss me. You can’t keep touching me. You can’t do that.”

  “Why not? You seem to enjoy it.”

  “I’m still with Sara. That hasn’t changed. And I’m pretty fucking old, remember?”

  “I don’t care... about any of that.”

  “What about Matt? Can’t you molest him or something?”

  “I don’t want Matt,” she said. “I want you.”

  “I can’t.”

  “We’re here, Baptiste. Just do what you want.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re expecting.”

  She kissed me. “Like that.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well?”

  I gave her a kiss.

  Then another.

  I wrapped my arms around her and lowered her onto the bed.

  I grabbed her shirt and pulled it up over her head. I threw it on the floor.

  I kissed her again.

  She unclasped her strapless white bra.

  I yanked it off of her.

  I kissed her left breast and gently bit down on her nipple.

  I’d thought about doing that since that day I’d watched her dance.

  I dragged my lips down her stomach, kissing as I went.

  I undid the button on her pants. I pulled down the zipper.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Baptiste?” Fi
ona said. “Can I come in?”

  “Shoot,” Kayla said in a whisper. “Tell her to go away.”

  “I’m in the middle of something,” I said. “I’ll be out in a little bit.”

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fine.” I said it a little too harshly.

  The door opened.

  And Fiona saw us.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “Oh, no...”

  “Get out, Fiona,” Kayla said, her breasts still exposed.

  “Oh, no...”

  “I’m sorry, Fiona,” I said as I climbed off the bed.

  “Why the hell are you apologizing?” Kayla asked. “She’s the one who barged in.”

  Fiona was still standing in the doorway, her lips mouthing the same two words over and over again.

  “You can go now, Fiona,” Kayla said.

  Fiona didn’t move.

  “Gawd,” Kayla said. She threw her shirt on and stormed out, leaving the bra on my bedroom floor.

  “Fiona,” I said.

  She didn’t answer.

  “Fiona.”

  “How could you do this?” she asked.

  “I don’t know...”

  “Do you even care about Sara at all? Do you even care about me?”

  “What does this have to do with you?”

  “I hate her. And Sara hates her. But you just couldn’t stop yourself. I can’t believe this.”

  “I didn’t make a promise to anyone. Sara’s not interested in me anymore. She won’t even talk to me.”

  “For how many days? You couldn’t even wait a week...”

  “And you, Fiona... what am I supposed to do with this? You think you have any right to place some kind of veto on who I’m allowed to be with? Even if you were my daughter you wouldn’t have that right.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Fine.” She walked out of the room, leaving the door open.

  I closed the door and laid down on the bed.

  I leaned over and picked Kayla’s bra up off the floor. I held it in both hands for a minute.

  I knew Kayla would let me try again if I wanted.

  She wanted me.

  A beautiful young woman who was barely in her twenties wanted this old guy with the bald head and the dying heart.

  How could I turn her down?

  Today is Friday, January 4th.

  I got up to pee in the middle of the night. It happens more and more these days, but I’m just relieved that I still wake up before I let it rip. I won’t need to start scavenging for adult diapers just yet.

  I noticed a light from downstairs as I walked toward the bathroom. It wasn’t from the overheads; it was more like a glare from a tablet.

  I took my piss and washed my hands, and then I found my way downstairs.

  You’re never too old to be nosy.

  I expected it to be Fiona, actually, like she’d been struck with some kind of rage-induced insomnia, and I almost changed my mind and headed back to bed.

  But it wasn’t Fiona. In the living room, on the couch with no light but the shine of a small tablet screen, was Gwyneth.

  I walked over to the couch and waited, but she didn’t seem to notice me. Then I realized that she had earclips on.

  I waited a little longer.

  She saw me and gasped.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Please go,” she said. She sounded more frightened than angry.

  “I don’t understand this,” I said. “But if you need to be mad at someone, I’m okay with it being me.”

  She was shaking.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I said.

  “I... I don’t believe you. Please go...”

  “This is silly.”

  “I’ll scream...”

  “You know that Fiona is my friend, right? That we’ve known each other for almost two years?”

  Gwyneth started shrieking. She was calling out for help, calling out for Fiona, and making more noise than I’d heard since Cassy was teething.

  I didn’t know what to do; if I ran, I’d look... guilty?

  Fiona and Sara came running down the stairs, one after the other.

  Fiona sat down beside Gwyneth and gave her a hug.

  Sara marched right up to me.

  “What the hell are you doing, Baptiste?” she asked.

  “I scared her,” I said.

  “Why are you down here? Why are you bothering her?”

  “I was just checking on her.”

  “Who told you to do that?” Fiona asked.

  “Just get him away from me,” Gwyneth said. “Please...”

  “Fuck this,” I said.

  I went back to my room, passing Graham and Lisa on my way. I just threw up my hands as I went by.

  I laid back down in bed, but I couldn’t sleep.

  I was too busy wondering how many enemies I’d racked up this week.

  Graham, Lisa and I skipped the meeting this morning, the first one with the Marchands, partly because we wanted to get the special “supply run” completed, but also because when I asked Sara if she’d be upset if we missed, she told me she’d prefer that I found somewhere else to be for a while.

  I don’t think Fiona told her what happened with Kayla.

  I think she just hates me for a few other good reasons.

  I felt uneasy leaving the cottage in the hands of Matt and one of the Mossbergs, but I dealt with the worry by telling Fiona to go with Sara; they’d be with Justin, which as of today means they should be safe.

  Kayla would have to trust in Matt. I feel for her.

  We took the cart down toward Helena, our first stop, and on the way I couldn’t help but ask them about Gwyneth.

  “Have you guys talked to her at all?” I asked.

  “I have,” Lisa said. “She seems nice... a little shy.”

  “She wouldn’t talk to me,” Graham said. “I came into the room once with Lisa, and she went mute until I left.”

  “Did she ask you to leave?” I asked.

  “Why? Do I smell that bad?”

  “She’s scared of me. She thought I was going to hurt her.”

  “I think she’s terrified of both of you,” Lisa said.

  “Terrified?” Graham said. “That seems a little unwarranted.”

  “That’s why she’s been hiding from you, eating her meals upstairs. She doesn’t have to stay up there all day if she’s feeling strong enough to walk. And I think she feels strong enough... she was down on the couch last night.”

  “I remember...” I said.

  “What did you say to her?” Graham asked

  “Nothing much.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lisa said, “there’s probably nothing you could have done to make her comfortable around you. She’s traumatized.”

  “So what does that mean? How long is she going to avoid us?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not a psychiatrist. We just need to give her some time. She was held captive for months, maybe longer. I can’t imagine what that would do to a person.”

  “Has she talked about it?”

  “Not to me. Maybe to Fiona. She’s the one Gwyneth trusts.”

  “Fiona’s pretty awesome.”

  I wanted to tell Fiona I was sorry. I should have told her I was sorry.

  “So tell me something, Baptiste,” Graham said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Why do we want to keep these drugs? Why don’t we just dump them?”

  “They might come in handy,” I said. “For barter... or in case someone’s ever in need.”

  “In need of narcotics?” Lisa said. “Good luck.”

  “MDMA is legal when prescribed. Some people need it to function.”

  “Like who?” Graham asked.

  “Like you, Baptiste?” Lisa said.

  “You never know when we might need them,” I said. “Maybe Gwyneth could use a little bit of medicatin
g.”

  “Sure,” Graham said. “I’ll hold her down while you force it down her throat. That should fix her fear of men.”

  “That’s not funny,” Lisa said. “This isn’t a joke.”

  “It’s a little funny,” I said.

  “No. It’s not funny at all, asshole. You guys have no idea what it’s like. Goddamn male privilege.”

  “Easy, Lisa,” Graham said.

  “Fuck you, Graham. You have no clue. You don’t live in a world where every second person thinks of you as an object to be used and abused, where you’re expected to just accept that men will treat you like garbage day in and day out.”

  “That’s a little harsh,” I said. “Last time I checked people try to kill Graham and I all the freaking time.”

  “Oh, they want to kill us, too. After they beat us up a little, and rape the shit out of us, and make sure we’re broken. Then they kill us. Believe me, that’s worse.”

  “You’re not exactly a damsel in distress, Lisa. You’re the toughest woman I’ve ever met.”

  “Case in point, jackass. I’m a tough ‘woman’ to you... not a tough person. We’re all women first to you. Women... as in pretty little pussies for you to take whenever you want.”

  “What the hell? I don’t deserve this shit from you.”

  “No, you’re right. You deserve this shit from Sara and you deserve this shit from Kayla, since you’re playing them both against each other. And you deserve it from Fiona, for boxing her into that sick little daddy-daughter fantasy of yours. But none of them have the balls to give it to you.”

  “So you’re giving it to me?”

  “I’m doing you a favour, Baptiste.”

  “By ripping me a new one?”

  “I’m helping you hide your drugs. So as payment you need to listen to me yell at you. I think that’s fair.”

  She started to laugh.

  Graham started laughing, too.

  And for some reason I decided to join them.

  We packed up supplies from Helena.

  I went around the back to where I’d shot Rashad; his body was lying in the snow like it had just happened.

  I didn’t regret it.

  We had to go all the way around the string of lakes, skirting around New Post, and back past Nelson Road up to 652, then through the gate to Murphy Road.

  Nothing had changed in the buried school bus, the LED lights still running and no sign of any new visitors. We took the bags of meth and ecstasy and mixed them in with the tubs of supplies from Helena.