After The Fires Went Out: Coyote atfwo-1

by Regan Wolfrom

  I sighed. “At this point, Kayla, I think if I showed up at the gate they’d just shoot me.”

  “I know I would,” she said. “I mean, if I were them. But they won’t shoot me.”

  “No…not a fucking chance,” I said. “You’re not going.”

  “I’ll go,” Graham said.

  “They won’t trust either of you,” Kayla said.

  “You’re right,” I said. “Normally it would make sense to send Lisa, but since she’s already shot at them once today…but I don’t think I can allow this, Kayla.”

  “Do you think they’ve hurt Sara?” she asked.

  “No.” I just couldn’t see it. They didn’t want Sara dead.

  “They won’t hurt me, either.”

  “But what if they try to take you into custody?” Graham asked.

  “For what?” Kayla asked.

  “Conspiracy, maybe…”

  “They’re not going to touch me. No one wants a war.”

  Graham shook his head. “They threw Justin Porter out of a moving truck.”

  “They dumped him because they knew we were coming…they knew Lisa would catch up and that people would get hurt…their people as well as ours.”

  “They could have stopped their truck.”

  “They could have shot Justin first.”

  “This has gotten so messed up,” Graham said.

  “It has,” I said.

  “Then let me try to fix it,” Kayla said. “You have to let me try.”

  I drove the cart while Kayla sat beside me; she was in the spotter’s seat, but she seemed too nervous to look at anything aside from her feet.

  I’d made sure everyone back at McCartney Lake was on high alert; New Post would be expecting a visit from me, so there was always the chance that they’d see it as an opportunity to hit us from the rear. They’d been up the deer trails before; what was stopping them from doing it again?

  I’d never thought I’d have to consider the possibility that our neighbours might launch a sneak attack. But things were changing so quickly that I knew I couldn’t make too many assumptions.

  Was I making a mistake? Would they actually shoot Kayla even though she’s almost the farthest thing possible from a threat?

  I stopped the cart just out of range of the gate at New Post. I was in full gear, while Kayla only had a vest under her robin’s egg blue jacket, and her pink toque instead of a helmet.

  “You should take off the toque,” I said.

  She pulled it off, and her blond hair tumbled out. “It’s windy,” she said.

  “I know…but this way they’ll know you’re not Lisa, and they should be pretty damned sure you’re not me.”

  “I know this was my idea, but I have to admit…I’m pretty fucking terrified.”

  “You’ll do fine. Just remember that you’re too pretty to shoot.”

  “Graham always says the same thing about you.”

  She climbed down from the cart and made her way towards the guards at the gate. There were four of them now instead of two; I took out my binoculars to see all but one take cover behind a parked green pickup.

  “Hold your arms out, Kayla,” I said. “Let them see that you’re unarmed.”

  She spread out her hands as she walked. She was moving a little quickly, but I worried that telling her to slow down would just add to her anxiety.

  I kept my shotgun low; I knew that I’d have no hope of saving her if they decided to shoot. I’d be sure to kill every last one of them for it, but that wouldn’t do much for Kayla after the fact.

  I’d wanted to give her a handheld, set to broadcast every noise, but she’d made it clear that the last thing she needed was a strange bulge coming from the side of her coat.

  The guard who hadn’t taken cover behind the truck started toward her, his rifle pointed down at the ground. I could see through the binoculars that it was Sky; I felt like that was a good thing.

  Kayla started talking, though I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Sky responded, but he did not smile. Kayla kept going, gesturing with her hands as she started to argue with him. Sky seemed calm enough, and after a couple of minutes he shook his head, and then he turned to return to the other men at the gate.

  Kayla looked back at me; I could see that she was upset.

  I wanted to head towards her, but I stayed where I was.

  Slowly she started back toward the cart.

  I watched as Sky went back through the gate and made a call on his handheld. The other guards came out from their hiding place behind the truck, but they still kept their eyes on me and the cart.

  I waited for Kayla to reach me, wanting to hope for the best but knowing full well that the news wasn’t good.

  “Is she okay?” I asked as Kayla came close.

  “Apparently,” she said. “But they won’t let her go.”

  “What do you mean? They’re just going to keep her?”

  “They say they don’t trust us…they think we’re planning to attack.”

  “That’s exactly what they’re forcing us to do. Did you tell them that this is unacceptable?”

  “I did.”

  “Did you tell them they have no right to keep her?”

  “I did.”

  “Goddammit…what the fuck are we supposed to do now?” I knew that I was crying; I hoped that she couldn’t tell.

  She climbed onto the cart and wrapped her arms around me. “Don’t worry, Baptiste…we’ll figure this out.”

  She reached out and wrapped her arm around my neck.

  “Don’t cry,” she said.

  “Don’t watch.”

  She started to laugh. “Sorry…I know I shouldn’t be laughing. We’ll get her back.”

  “I know we will,” I said, not that I really knew anything. “I just worry about how she’s doing.”

  “They won’t hurt her.”

  I just nodded and hugged her back.

  I confronted Matt about the armour. He’d just come back from flirting with Fiona, and he had that stupid grin on his face.

  “I know you gave a key to Justin,” I said.

  “For the gate?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You let him into the chest and he took my armour to use on New Post. I know it was you.”

  “Maybe it was Lisa.”

  “Don’t even bother trying, Matt. This is your fault, you stupid piece of shit. Your fault that Sara’s gone…your fault that we might end up going to war with those people.”

  “I didn’t give him my key.”

  “It was never your key to give.”

  “I didn’t give him anything.”

  “You gave him your key. Don’t lie to me.”

  “I don’t have to stand around here and be accused of something I didn’t do.”

  I shoved him against the wall of the living room, almost knocking down that date sign from the bank. Today is…the day I finally put two bullets in Matt’s tiny little brain.

  I wished I could.

  “You like Fiona,” I said. “I know you do.”

  “Yes…I think she’s great.”

  “Well you may have just killed her, Matt. Doing whatever you want without thinking or asking anyone else if it even makes sense…you may have just killed the girl you were hoping to see naked. It’s your fault, Matt. It’s all you, buddy. All you.”

  “You can think whatever you want about me…I don’t care. I’m doing my best to protect the people I care about.”

  “By starting a war?”

  “By standing up for us. They’re just waiting for a chance to get us, Baptiste. I know that. Justin knows that. You’re the only one who doesn’t.”

  “All I know, Matt, is that I don’t want to see you again tonight. So find a place to be that isn’t here.”

  “Whatever,” he said. He shook his head and walked out to the porch.

  I’m sure he was hoping he’d get to stay with Fiona.

  I knew he’d end up at the Porters.
<
br />   I hope he decides to stay there for a while.

  Today is Thursday, January 10th.

  It’s been three days of nothing.

  We’ve sent five messages to New Post. Those messages have gone ignored.

  Kayla wants to head back to the gate and talk to them.

  I know that won’t work.

  Assuming Gerald Archibald didn’t bleed to death, I’m sure he’s convinced himself that Sara Vachon is his best leverage to keep me from taking him out.

  There haven’t been any attempts to steal our supplies…not yet. But I know they’ll be back. And when we catch them, they’ll try to wave Sara’s life in my face.

  They’ll keep her for as long as I live. Maybe longer.

  They won’t give her back.

  The only thing we can do is take her back.

  One of the side effects of living in such a small world is that it’s pretty hard to sneak around. This is why we don’t have things like surprise birthday parties, and why everyone seems to know exactly who’s sleeping with who; I learned that last one the hard way.

  When I decided to start up an old fashioned conspiracy, I quickly realized that finding a place to meet might suck up most of my energy.

  I could have gotten Lisa to distract Graham, but I wanted her opinion. So I had to get creative and ask Rihanna for help. She had no problem giving us a hand, and she came up with a way to keep Graham busy for a few hours; it’s not a big secret that Graham can’t say no when you ask him for a favour.

  So Graham was over at the Porters, giving Rihanna some advice on setting up a miniature greenhouse, and we all met up in the barn to talk, all of us meaning anyone who wasn’t Fiona or Gwyneth.

  Justin Porter was there as well, his left ankle sprained and his face swollen, and Alain Tremblay came too, showing an aggressive side that reminded me more of his brother.

  We didn’t invite the Marchands; we still didn’t know them well enough.

  But I did let Matt be there. I needed help, and I could go back to hating him tomorrow.

  “If we do this,” I said, “there’s really no way to smooth things over again. We’ll basically be at war with New Post and possibly the Walkers. And Ryan Stems.”

  “Big loss,” Justin said.

  “This will go better if you don’t talk,” Lisa said.

  That seemed to shut him up.

  “The way I see things,” I said, “there are two ways to do this. We can go in with just three or four of us, and keep some people back at home keeping watch with Graham and the Marchands. Or we can take a chance and go all in.”

  “If we all go,” Lisa said, “will we all go in together?”

  “I was thinking we’d have two groups. Three coming in from the front, while the other three sneak in off the river. They’ll bring their people out to the gate, thinning things out for my team.”

  “Your team,” Alain said. “And who leads the other?”

  “Justin leads the other,” I said.

  “With a sprained ankle?”

  “Me as a gimp is vastly superior to you at your best,” Justin said. “So we just want to tie them down at the gate?”

  “You got it. Make a lot of noise then back off a little. Don’t lose sight of the fact that you’re a decoy; don’t try to take them out. But when you start backing off, don’t let them think it’s a rout…just keep it orderly so they think twice about chasing after you.”

  “And what if they do chase after us?”

  “You’ll have the pickup truck we got from New Post,” I said. “That’s assuming the thing is roadworthy after Lisa put those nice holes in it. Take the truck and turn onto Birchill Road. Do not lead them back to McCartney Lake.”

  “And you’re putting me in here somewhere?” Kayla asked.

  “Have you ever even fired a gun?” Justin asked.

  “I have.”

  I’m not sure I believed her based on what I’d seen. “You’re extra padding,” I said. “You, Justin and Matt make three. I’m really only expecting Justin to do the actual shooting. I’m not even sure we have enough guns.”

  “I can shoot,” Matt said.

  “I know…but Justin might actually hit the things he aims for.”

  “So I’m going with you and Lisa?” Alain asked.

  “Are you okay with that?” I asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Do we have any idea where Sara’s being held?” Lisa asked.

  “We don’t know anything,” I said. “But I’d guess she’s at the band office.”

  “Or she could be in any other building on the reserve,” Justin said.

  “It’s possible.”

  “So if she’s not at the band office, we’re going to wander from house to house looking for her?”

  “If she’s not at the band office, we’ll take a hostage of our own. Maybe we’ll be lucky and grab the chief.”

  “I like that,” Matt said.

  “I want to be clear,” I said. “We don’t want to kill anyone if we don’t have to.”

  “And what if we have to?” Justin asked.

  “This isn’t for revenge…just remember that.” Part of me knew I was lying.

  “So we’re really going to do this?” Kayla asked.

  “We head out tonight at 6pm. I want everyone to meet back here at 5:15.”

  “What about Graham?” Justin asked.

  “He’ll need to stay here either way. I don’t think he’ll try to stop us.”

  I didn’t want to consider how to deal with Graham if he did.

  Fiona asked me to come over for lunch. I didn’t really feel like it, since I had shit to do, and Gwyneth would probably be there to hate on me, but I was happy that Fiona was talking to me at all after everything that has happened.

  She started us off by barking out a list of ingredients for me to find.

  “Now I’m mostly just an omelette guy, remember?” I said as I pulled down a bag of pinto beans. “I don’t really know what any non-omelette ingredients look like.”

  “Nice try,” she said. “I’ve seen you find your way around just fine when there’s ice cream toppings involved.”

  “Okay…so that covers red peppers and chocolate chips.”

  I walked over to a small upright freezer to pull out some cheese.

  “There’s none left up here,” Fiona said.

  “So that’s why I’m here,” I said. “I’m just your basement delivery service.”

  “It’s a crawlspace. But that’s not it, actually…you’re here because I need to talk to you.”

  “About the cheese?”

  She wasn’t smiling.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I’m not stupid, Baptiste. Just because I don’t live with you guys anymore doesn’t mean I don’t notice when almost everyone at McCartney Lake runs down to your barn for secret meetings.”

  “Oh…”

  “And yes, I know pretty much everything else you try and keep from me.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like everything, Baptiste. What happened to Marc Tremblay, what happened to those girls at Silver Queen Lake, what happened to the Girards…what you did to Sara.”

  My heart started pounding. “What do you mean? What did she say to you?”

  “She didn’t say anything…but I can still tell. I always knew when my father hit my mom, too.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Don’t you see what’s happening to you? You’re changing, Baptiste…all of this violence is…it’s poisoning you.”

  “I don’t think it works that way.”

  “It definitely does work that way. You’ve been around so much of it over the past few years. Being on the Protection Committee, and then The Fires and everything else…you can’t go through that without some of it seeping in.”

  “You sound like Sara,” I said, trying to make it a compliment.

  “Oh, no…I’m not Sara. She was just letting it happen. But I’m not going to sit by and let you tu
rn into a monster. You killed someone last week, remember? And not by accident, either…you took him outside and you shot him.”

  “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.