Regan Wolfrom - After The Fires Went Out - Coyote

“I don’t know…”

“So let me understand this,” I said. “You are upset with Lisa because you think she’s cheating with someone, only you don’t know who.”

“It’s not Ant this time. At least I know that.”

“That’s not funny.”

“You’re right. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize…you sound like a goddamn Canadian.”

He smiled. “I need to confront her.”

“You need to be sure first. You’re actually pretty lucky, Graham.”

“How’s that? You mean because I got stranded up here? Or because I now have to hang around with you?”

“Yes…and yes…but mostly you’re one lucky asshole because you’ve managed to hold onto Lisa for almost a year now. But once you start making accusations that you can’t back up…”

“Yeah…I get it.”

“If she really is cheating, you’ll find out eventually. Trust me…I know all about this stuff.” For some reason, I wanted to say more, almost like I wanted to brag about some of the things I’d done to Alanna…that when I’d come back from my last rotation I’d almost been obsessed with hurting her…

“I just want her to talk to me, you know?”

“I know. Lisa’s not an easy person to get close to.”

“There’s nothing easy about her.”

“She’s not for beginners.”

“Well, if she’s not lucky I’ll find someone of my own to cheat with.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Very funny.”

“Well I don’t think Kayla’s into the whole facial hair thing you got going on. And I don’t know who else is left.”

“Suzanne Tremblay is interested in me,” he said.

“You really are an idiot. Only you would pick a woman who’ll get you killed. I can’t imagine what Marc Tremblay would do to you if you banged his wife.”

“I’ll just make sure I wear my riot gear. I’ll cut a little whole in the crotch area for easy access.”

We both laughed at that.

A few minutes later we came upon a little two-door sitting alongside the road, not that far north of the gravel bed that led to the rail bridge at New Post; I wasn’t sure I remembered seeing it that last time we’d come down here, sometime during the summer, but it looked like it had been there awhile, with a flat tire and no other sign of damage. Graham hopped down and pried open the hood.

“Bingo,” he said. He pulled out his wrench and got to work on disconnecting it. I realized that he was already getting faster since yesterday; sometimes Graham doesn’t always seem all that mechanically inclined, which isn’t what you’d expect from an electrical engineer. I guess there’s a reason India’s winning the tech race.

He pulled out the battery and started back to it with a whistle, but then something made him stop. He was frozen, his gaze locked on something in the ditch.

“Baptiste,” he said slowly. “Come here.”

I climbed down from the cart and jogged over.

Graham nodded toward a clump of orange and yellow flowers.

“Very pretty,” I said. “Did you want me to pick some for you?”

“There’s a body over there.”

“Okay…so what’s so special about that?”

I saw two bodies yesterday.

“I don’t think it’s been here very long.”

I walked down into the ditch and saw him. He was young, maybe twelve, and he looked aboriginal to me. He was dressed in a black jacket but he was completely naked below the hips; someone had taken off his pants, his underwear, and even his shoes and socks. I couldn’t see any blood; to be honest, I almost thought he was sleeping, or wished he was. But his eyes were open and his face was cold and pale. I knew he was dead.

And I knew what some goddamn pedo piece of shit had done to him.

I felt it…the anger, the sadness…the anxiety building up inside. It wasn’t like seeing Pauline, who’d been just one more victim, like the charred corpses in Cochrane or the shot-up bodies along Highway 11. This was different.

I knew why.

“Do you remember this car being here before?” Graham asked. I realized that he was now standing only a couple steps behind me.

I thought about it for a moment. “Yeah…I think so.”

“Me, too…I remember reading the bumper sticker. ‘No on C-93.’ So what was this kid doing out here?”

“This may just be where he was dumped,” I said. “He probably came from New Post, whether he walked this far…”

“We should take him back there,” Graham said. “They might be looking for him.”

I shook my head. “If he’s from New Post they’ll find him soon enough.”

“What does that mean?”

“We shouldn’t get involved,” I said. “The last thing we need to do is drive around with a dead kid on our cart. Hell, they might even think we’re the ones who killed him.”

“That’s ridiculous, Baptiste.”

“There’s no upside…he’s already dead.” For a moment I wished that Sara was there to give a prayer or something; some kind of faith ought to surround that boy, and I knew it couldn’t come from me. “Let’s get going before someone from New Post shows up.”

“No…”

I started walking back to the cart, picking up the battery on my way.

“Baptiste…”

I looked back at Graham and watched as he knelt down beside the body.

“Don’t do it,” I said. “I’m not helping you carry him.”

“Then I’ll do it without your help.”

“Goddammit, Graham…I’m not fooling around. We need to go. You need to leave him here.”

I stood by the cart and waited.

“So the coyotes can get him?” he asked.

“What difference does it make?”

I watched him stand up and walk to the back of the car. He took his crowbar and started prying open the trunk.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked. “They’re not going to find him if you leave him in the trunk.”

“I’m going to put him in the back seat.”

I walked back over to him. “Stop it…just give me the crowbar.”

I reached out for it. He hesitated, but after a few seconds he handed the crowbar over to me.

“We need to go,” I said.

He nodded, and we both went back to the cart. I took the reins and got us moving again. Graham went through the motions of being on lookout, but I knew he wasn’t really paying attention.

“They’ll find him soon,” I said.

“If they’re looking for him.”

After a few more minutes we reached the concession road and a Ford hatchback that looked good for a battery; I was glad for a bit of work, so after I stopped the cart I put down the reins and hopped off.

“Pass me the tools,” I said.

“That’s my job,” Graham said gruffly.

I nodded and got out of his way.

We made our way down the concession road past the morning and into the afternoon, taking the extra time to run up and down the other roads that led back up to Highway 652.

It was an even better haul than yesterday, with twenty-three batteries including the one from Comel Road where we’d found the dead boy.

We didn’t talk about the kid at all; we didn’t talk about anything. Graham did the pulling and I did the driving, and there wasn’t any need for us to speak. I know that Graham thinks I don’t feel anything, that it meant nothing to me to see that kid lying there. He’s an idiot for thinking that.

Every child makes me think of Cassy.

I felt the anxiety as we worked, and I tried to fight it off by stretching and yawning, an old trick that seems to help even if it makes me look like an idiot.

But all I could do was delay what I knew was coming. I just needed to make it through the day…I knew that was all I could hope to do.