After The Fires Went Out: Coyote atfwo-1

by Regan Wolfrom

  And I’ll do the same to the men who killed Ant and Natalie.

  Kayla took me on a walk this afternoon. She told me that she had something to show me.

  I had a feeling I knew what it was.

  Kayla only had so many secrets.

  She took me to the Williams cottage, to where Fiona and Gwyneth were now living, and where Sara had once hoped to get away from me.

  We walked behind the cottage, toward the woods, to a large wood shed with a padlock on the door.

  “Ant’s shed,” she said. “I guess it’s my shed, now.”

  She took a keyring out of her jacket pocket and unlocked the door. She led me inside.

  “No power?” she said. “No problem.”

  She knelt down and flicked a switch.

  I heard the hum of a generator.

  The shed lit up.

  “You’re using fuel for this?” I asked.

  “Oh, hush.”

  She led me to the center of a workbench that ran along three of the walls.

  “Ant’s pet projects,” she said. “You know what’s great about men who are really short?”

  “What?”

  “They’re always looking for ways to even the odds.” She reached down and pulled up what seem to be a green fish tackle box. “You’ll like these…I hope.”

  She opened the box and pulled out a large bundle wrapped in butcher paper. She laid the bundle out on the table and unwrapped it.

  “What the fuck?” I said.

  “You recognize them?”

  “Pipe grenades…” Six of them.

  I’d thought Ant’s pyrotechnics went as far as cherry bombs and homemade firecrackers.

  This was a much bigger deal.

  “We’ve got three more boxes of ‘em. But wait…there’s more…”

  She picked up another tackle box, only red instead of green. She opened it up and pulled out another bundle.

  “A nail grenade,” I said. “So this is what you guys were doing in here?”

  “There’s a lot more. That stuff to put out fires is in here…and even some stuff to start them…Ant wasn’t sure if he should tell you. He was worried about what you’d say. This isn’t exactly an honourable way to fight a war.”

  “Wars aren’t honourable either way. Why are you showing me this? Why now? Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

  “Ant didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want you to think less of him. I didn’t want you to, either.”

  “I don’t think less of him. I’m proud of him. This doesn’t change that.”

  “Will it help?”

  “What?”

  “Will this stuff help to get Sara back?”

  “I…I don’t know. We can’t get her back by blowing things up. But this could go a long way toward making us safer. That’s important, too.”

  She nodded. “I know it is.”

  “We’ll do what we can to get her back. You know that.”

  I gave her a hug.

  I think both of us were crying.

  “I’ve showed you mine,” she said. “Now will you show me yours?”

  “I don’t have anything to show.”

  “That’s such a big lie, Baptiste. Just let me in a little. That’s how this works.”

  “What is it you want me to tell you about?”

  “Anything.”

  “I have something that Justin can’t know about, that only Lisa and Graham have seen.”

  “The assault rifle?”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah…the whole world knows. That’s what happens when you shoot the goddamn thing. What else you got?”

  “I don’t want to tell you where the drugs are.”

  “Why not? You don’t trust me?”

  “It’s to keep you safe.”

  “Seriously? I’ll tell you something, Baptiste. People are going to assume that I know. So if you think that me not knowing actually helps me…”

  “It’s off Murphy Road. By that pond that smells like gasoline.”

  “That doesn’t sound so well hidden.”

  “It’s underground. Looks like an old covered well.” She didn’t need to know that we’d moved them.

  “There…was that so much to ask? Now we can be best friends.”

  And then she gave my ass a pinch.

  10

  Today is Monday, January 14th.

  I dreamt about Sara last night.

  We’d met on the bridge, at a table like the one Stems had used. She asked me how I’d been, and I told her how I just wanted her to come home, and how I wanted to drown Stems in the Abitibi for trying to turn our home into some kind of buffer state.

  She’d laughed, saying that being a buffer wasn’t so bad. “Look at me,” she said, “Vachon tampon, remember? It’s my job to stand in the middle and plug up the ick.”

  “Come home, Sara,” I’d told her.

  “One day, Baptiste…as soon as you deserve it.”

  I woke up and I felt like a piece of shit.

  Things are getting easier and it makes me feel guilty.

  Sara’s gone, Fiona’s moved out, Matt spends most of his time out in the woods trying to rekindle Ant’s old firebreak project for some unknown reason. Lisa and Graham are handling the goats, and Kayla feeds the dogs and takes care of the chickens.

  I don’t do much of anything.

  And I’m starting to like it.

  I wake up with Kayla beside me.

  We go downstairs and make some eggs and/or toast.

  We don’t worry about what anyone else is eating.

  Then Kayla checks the chickens and spends some time playing fetch or tug with Carcassonne, and I may go out with her if I feel like it; otherwise, I’ll do the dishes or clean the guns or just sit on my ass in the living room screwing around with my tablet.

  I’m not even writing much in this journal anymore.

  We haven’t heard a peep from New Post, and there hasn’t been a single visit from snowmobiles, or unknown footsteps in the snow. Those Spirit Assholes from Detour Lake are gone, too, and I like to pretend that their absence is permanent, even if I know they’ll be back eventually, once their supplies get low.

  The thing is, I don’t know how many supplies they have.

  Or how many people they have. More than fifty, less than a thousand. I think.

  I don’t really know anything, really.

  After the chickens and the eggs and fun time with Carcass, Kayla and I might go and sit together in the living room and read, or we might watch a movie together.

  Sometimes Lisa or Graham or even Matt will come in and glare at us, shaking their head or making a comment about the two lazy asses, but I really don’t give a shit.

  Well, aside from feeling guilty.

  That usually hits me at night.

  After a dinner of whatever’s easy, Kayla and I will move upstairs to my room. We’ll read or watch or just lay together, and eventually we’ll either make love or she’ll roll over and fall asleep.

  And I’ll lay in bed thinking about Sara.

  On really bad nights I’ll start thinking about Ant, too.

  And that’s when I start to wonder if I’ll ever fix this family.

  Today is Tuesday, January 15th.

  The alarm came from the gate on Nelson Road.

  That likely meant New Post.

  Lisa and I took the grain truck on what could be its last trip, since the arrow was now a long way past the E.

  We threw on the gear, all of it, and Lisa held the Mossberg as I drove.

  I stopped a good fifty meters from the gate, turning the truck to block the road as best I could, with my side toward the gate.

  New Post knew we had an alarm.

  It could be a setup.

  Lisa climbed out and took position behind the engine block.

  I followed behind.

  She put the binoculars up to her eyes and looked up the road.

  “It’s Sky,” she said. “Can’t see any
one else. Can I shoot him?”

  “Is he armed?”

  “He’s hiding it if he is.”

  “I guess Gerald isn’t up to dropping by. I’ll head up to the gate. You know the drill.”

  “Shoot anyone who shoots you.”

  “Try to shoot them before they shoot me.”

  She nodded.

  I walked up the road, my SIG in my belt.

  “You couldn’t just send a message?” I asked him as I reached the gate.

  “This is a face-to-face thing,” he said.

  “I had one of those with your buddy Stems last week.”

  “He’s not my buddy.”

  “So he’s mine now?”

  “Katie’s here, too.”

  I looked around. “Where?”

  “Back at the truck.”

  “So she’s moved in with you at New Post? I would’ve thought it would be the other way around.”

  “I think that might be racist.”

  “I can’t tell anymore.”

  “Are we safe here, Baptiste?”

  “What?”

  “Can I tell Katie to come up the road?”

  I nodded. “I’m not going to shoot you, Sky.”

  Sky slowly reached into his pocket and took out a handheld radio. “We’re good,” he said into the transceiver. He put the radio away. “She’ll be a minute.”

  “What are you here for, Sky?”

  “To talk to you, Baptiste.”

  I sighed. “I don’t really go in for mystery…not really a guy who likes to guess. Just tell me what’s going on.”

  “Katie and I are leaving the district. And we want you to come with us.”

  That I wouldn’t have guessed.

  I decided to call a meeting of everyone at McCartney Lake, since with Fiona and Gwyneth starting their own “household” it would be pretty tough to invite them and not the Marchands.

  And that meant that the Tremblays and Porters would need to come, too.

  The dining room was standing room only, about as busy as it was for that fleeting moment on New Year’s Eve when Fiona had brought out the homemade Mozzarella sticks; you don’t get much Mozzarella these days.

  Everyone other than Gwyneth was crammed around the table, some sitting but most standing; she was out in the living room. She’d be able to hear us, and I doubt she’d have wanted to speak up anyway.

  Since Sara’s gone, Kayla took her place as chair; I know Graham wanted the job, since he was sitting in Sara’s spot, but when it comes to meetings about leaving or staying put, he’s not a man I can trust.

  “We’re going to Temiskaming,” Katie said. “I refuse to be part of a system that treats some people as less than equal.”

  “No one makes it to Temiskaming,” Justin said. “I used to take people to practically everywhere else, but even I wouldn’t risk a trip down there.”

  “What is so bad about down there?” Eva Marchand asked. “People tell me that but they do not explain it.”

  “Ryan Stems wants us as a buffer between the Mushkegowuk Nation and Detour Lake,” I said. “Any trip to Temiskaming runs through the buffer between Timmins and Aiguebelle. You don’t want to go there.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s like Mad Max. ”

  “What is ‘Mad Max’ ?”

  “The Road Warrior, then. Bikers with guns, pickup trucks with guns, souped-up Honda coupes with guns…”

  “Souls of Flesh runs Timmins,” Justin said.

  “And who runs the buffer?” Graham asked.

  “No one,” I said. “And everyone…it varies.”

  “We think we’ve found a route that will get us through,” Katie said. “Through Twin Falls and backroads ‘til Hwy 101.”

  “Your problems start at 101,” I said. “And they continue all the way to Temiskaming. There’s only one person who believes he’s strong enough to get you past Souls of Flesh. And I’m sure if you thought Stems would help, you’d have already asked him.”

  “They have observers in Temiskaming,” Sky said. “From the African Union. They’re even sending aid now…but it’s sporadic.”

  “I’m not saying that Temiskaming isn’t lovely this time of year. I’m saying that you won’t make it.”

  “That’s why we’re asking for your help,” Katie said. “If you guys come with us we’ll be strong enough to push through.”

  “No…we won’t. Most of us would die.”

  Katie shook her head. “I can’t accept that.”

  “It’s not your decision. It’s how life works.”

  “We’re here to discuss this,” Graham said. “So that’s what we’ll do. Hear all sides.”

  “Maybe let the chair decide how this will go.”

  “Everyone should get a chance,” Kayla said. “Isn’t that how this goes? We can start with Graham.”

  “Thanks, Kayla,” Graham said.

  She grinned. “Just call me Madam Chair.”

  I wasn’t sure what was so damned funny.

  “We aren’t safe here,” Graham said. “Things are quiet at the moment, but we know that won’t last. Detour Lake is running out of supplies, and the Mushkegowuk Nation is pushing up against us and not even letting us cross the river. It won’t be long before things get bloody.”

  “So let’s hurry up and get ourselves killed?” I asked.

  “If we go together, we’ll have the numbers on our side.”

  “We’ll be the tastiest prize in six months.”

  “Baptiste,” Kayla said, “just let him talk.” I was starting to wonder if I should have asked one of the dogs to chair the meeting.

  “We should go,” Graham said. “They won’t be expecting a large group coming through in winter. They won’t be prepared.”

  “It doesn’t take much preparation to shoot someone,” Justin said.

  “You’ll get your turn, Justin. Just let me talk.”

  “Then say something that makes sense.”

  “Enough,” Kayla said. “Do you have anything else to add, Graham?”

  He straightened up in Sara’s chair like he was about to make a speech. “I want to raise my children somewhere that is safe. I’m willing to take some risks to get that chance.”

  Hands shot up across the room.

  “How ‘bout you, Eva?”

  “Thank you, ma chère, ” Eva said. “I believe that Monsieur Baptiste is correct about the dangers of travel. But we know that it will not be safe here for much longer. I have lost half of my family in the last two years, most of them in one day because of a handful of men from Detour Lake. My family will not survive an attack from a hundred more. We should try the road.”

  Kayla nodded to Alain Tremblay.

  I didn’t know which way he’d go.

  “My brother is dead,” he said. “He died just across the river. Maybe if he’d slipped and fell two years ago instead of last month, he’d have been picked up by an ambulance and taken to the hospital. Maybe he’d still be alive. And when it’s my turn to have an accident, there won’t be any ambulance for me up here, either. Then his kids and mine won’t have a father or an uncle. Maybe in Temiskaming we won’t have to worry about dying so easily.”

  “But you very well could die on the way,” I said.

  “It’s not your turn,” Kayla told me. She pointed at Rihanna.

  “The road isn’t safe,” Rihanna said. “And even if we could somehow get through, there’s no reason to believe Temiskaming has it any easier. International observers, a trickle of foreign aid…what makes it any better than a refugee camp? Twenty people at McCartney Lake are easier to feed and shelter than twenty thousand somewhere else. We have farm equipment now, don’t we? And a way to keep that equipment running? We can plant crops in a few months.”

  “We need more than crops,” Graham said.

  “We let you talk,” Rihanna said. “Now it’s my turn. The risk of staying is far less than the risk of leaving. No one can argue differently.”

  Kayla n
odded to Lisa.

  “I’m arguing differently,” Lisa said. “There will be a war. Detour Lake will run out of food, and they will come. They will take everything we have and then they will push through toward New Post and the Walkers. Even if Ryan Stems drives them back…even if he kills every last one of them, it’ll be too late for us.”

  “They’re preppers,” Kayla said. “They probably have several years’ worth of supplies.”

  “I’m still talking,” Lisa said.

  “Sorry.”

  “We don’t know what they have up there. And they don’t know what we have. No one knows anything.”

  “That’s not exactly true,” Justin said. “I know what they’ve got.”

  Lisa shook her head. “Yeah, right.”

  “It’s no secret that Marc and I ran some people up to Detour Lake. We ran them up…all the way up.”

  “You’ve been to Detour Lake,” I said. “You’ve seen their setup.”

  “You guys know they’ve converted the plant into a refinery for biofuel…they’re not hiding that. Back in September we let the Walkers bring up how many loads of wheat flour and canola seed?”

  “At least ten truckloads. Not sure of the breakdown…”

  “They took some lye up there, too. And they trucked back who knows how many barrels of diesel from Detour Lake.”

  “So they have flour,” Lisa said. “But how long can that last?”

  “A long time,” I said. “That plus what they have in storage, and what they can find in the forest and pull out of the lakes…sounds like it could be awhile before they start starving.”

  “They’ll come sooner,” Graham said. “They’ll come the moment they feel they have the advantage.”

  “They don’t have the advantage. Stems is stronger.”

  “Stems has an entire district to defend. He can’t be everywhere at once.”

  I knew Graham was right. Stems wasn’t enough of a deterrent. Neither were we.

  “What about Sara?” Fiona asked. “Are we just supposed to pack up and leave without her?”

  “We’re no good to her dead,” Graham said. “We’ll get to Temiskaming and then we’ll regroup. We’ll come up with a way to get her back.”