Regan Wolfrom - After The Fires Went Out - Coyote

Matt and I were in the back.

He had my C12 hanging from his shoulder, and a pack containing four of Ant and Kayla’s pipe grenades.

I had a shoulder-mounted foam launcher strapped to my back, along with four grenades of my own. And a few other odds and ends: a spool of fishing line and a steak knife, a box of matches, scotch tape, a ball of yarn, Des’ food dish, and a big bottle of lighter fluid.

It was one of those ideas that had sounded a little stupid even when I’d first thought of it. I’d made a MacGyver joke about it, and Fiona had thought I’d meant to say “MacGruber”; the whole exchange had been a little depressing.

The first piece of the plan didn’t have to work; it was the second step that counted. Ant had brought back a half dozen fire suppressors from the test site on Wade Lake, so he’d felt free to make a few creative alterations to one of them.

I hoped it would do the job.

Fiona took us to Murphy Road, stopping just north of the junction with Highway 652.

Matt and I hopped out. I had all my gear, while he was wearing nothing more than mechanic’s coveralls.

But in my defense, my job was harder.

“Remember,” I told him, “what you care about is making sure the girls are clear. Don’t start until they’re in the cab with Fiona.”

“I know,” he said.

“And if you try and fuck me over…”

“I know.”

I walked over to the driver’s side door.

Fiona opened it.

I handed her my SIG. “They’ve got armour,” I said. “So hide this until they let their guard down. If things go bad…if I’m gone and Matt’s down, they’ll probably take off their helmets and relax. That’s when you start shooting.”

“I’ve never done it,” she said.

“I know. Your goal isn’t to kill them; it’s to slow them down enough that you can back this truck out of here. If they’re on your tail, you take this truck to New Post and you cross the bridge. Keep driving ‘til you get to the Walkers.”

“What if we haven’t found Kayla and Gwyneth by then?”

“You leave them, Fiona. I need you to be safe. That’s what matters the most.” I stepped up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Fiona. You know that.”

She nodded.

I hopped down and closed the door.

“Now remember guys,” I said, “as long as I can hold them back, you head to Helena with the girls and wait for me. And if I’m not there by tomorrow morning, you take the old rail bed to Aiguebelle.”

I made my way into the forest of blackened trees and young gray birch. I wouldn’t have much cover.

But I had my armour, and a couple of pipe grenades, and the box of fire on my back. There wasn’t much stealth required for this plan.

There were nine men total.

And two prisoners.

I had to put something between them.

With my binoculars I was able to count off five. Justin and three others were out of my view. Maybe one or two were taking a dump in the woods, or maybe they were all packing up the remaining lab equipment in the underground school bus.

I didn’t know where they were.

I snuck around to the north side of the trucks…northwest, really. As far from Kayla and Gwyneth as an attacker could get.

I took out the fishing line and tied a loop around one of the charred pine trees that stood lifeless in the burned forest. I pulled the line back slowly, moving the trunk along with the warm south wind.

Justin should have told his men to keep an eye on all approaches. The boys from Detour Lake had no clue how to set up a defensive perimeter; you’d think that would be mentioned on the first day of prepper school.

I cut the fishing line with the knife, and tied the end to the base of a foot-tall birch,

I poured some of the lighter fluid into Desmond’s metal food dish, and then I cut a two meter length of yarn. I soaked it into the bowl of lighter fluid for a few seconds, then I laid it out from the base of the birch, making sure to wrap it around the fishing line for good measure.

And I did the same thing at another pine tree a few metres to the west, with a slightly longer stretch of yarn.

With both pine trees pulled back, and both little birches wrapped in fluid-soaked yarn, I used the scotch tape to cradle two grenades in each of the bent-back trunks; the tape would hold, right up until those trees really started to move. That or I was just wasting my time.

I pulled out the box of matches.

I set the farthest line of yarn on fire, and ran back to the other. Once both were lit, I kept on moving east, hoping to circle around before the fun started.

The closer line went first, snapping the tree forward and tossing the two pipe grenades.

I saw them launch but I didn’t stop moving.

Both grenades struck about three meters away from the first truck. That didn’t do much to blast it; I’m not sure that truck felt more than a little vibration.

But that was never the point.

The five men behind the trucks rushed northward, keeping on my side of the vehicles in the hope of staying covered from whoever was coming in from the northwest.

They were maybe ten meters away from me.

The second tree went. Two more grenades, but only one made hard contact. It landed even farther away from the trucks, but it was convincing.

They weren’t looking in my direction.

I started running toward the third truck.

I heard someone yell out as I reached the back. I’d been seen.

Then they opened fire.

“Hold your fire!” someone yelled. I think it was Justin.

They didn’t hold it.

“Stop shooting, dammit!” Justin yelled again. “Don’t hit my girls!”

The shooting stopped.

I saw Justin running up from the entrance to the lab. He’d dropped a box of glass equipment in the snow.

I waved Kayla and Gwyneth down from the back of the cargo truck. “Head into the trees,” I said. “Towards the highway.”

I opened the fuel line of my foam pack. I pointed the hose toward the trucks and pulled the trigger.

The canvas caught fire.

I released the trigger. I didn’t have much fuel.

I pulled one of the last two grenades from my pack.

I threw it at the far truck. It hit.

They wouldn’t be able to chase Fiona.

I started walking backward, behind the girls, making sure that I kept enough of a buffer that the girls would be out of firing range.

Once I reached the trees, I aimed for a stand of birch and pressed the trigger again.

I tore the cap off of the half-empty bottle of lighter fluid. I tossed the bottle at the burgeoning fire.

I heard the gunfire again.

I guess Justin had given up much hope of keeping any of the girls.

“They’re clear!” Matt yelled from behind me.

I was almost at the truck.

I dropped down to the ground.

Matt opened up with the C12. Not much accuracy, but enough to slow them down.

I crawled over to Matt.

He handed me the gun and his pack with the extra magazines.

I was a little overloaded; I could feel my breath shortening.

I put down the suppressant pack.

“Get the SIG from Fiona,” I told him. “Then climb in the back and go.”

I couldn’t leave with them; I couldn’t leave until Justin was no longer a threat to us.

I changed magazines in the C12 and fired a burst. I fired again until the chamber was empty.

I checked back.

Fiona had put the truck in reverse. They were almost at the highway.

I heard another volley from the north.

I picked up the foam pack and started moving again.

I felt my left leg give out on me.

I looked down and saw the blood.

Not far from the last hole they’d put in that thigh.