Regan Wolfrom - After The Fires Went Out - Coyote

I’d already started running.

We threw the dining room set off the cart and headed back as quickly as we could get the horses to move; I could not help but think how much faster we’d be moving if we’d had enough diesel to run our truck.

I couldn’t keep my mind from slipping into a bad place. I started to think of what could be happening to the women I had promised to keep safe, that they’d be taken like Natalie and Tabitha were, stripped and bound and terrified, with the man in the coyote helmet getting off on all of it. They’d be hoping desperately that we would come home to help them but frightened to death of what might happen once we arrived. I couldn’t stop from picturing them, tied to chairs in our dining room, with Sara trying to focus the attention on herself, hoping desperately to deflect the violence away from the young women she wanted so much to protect.

And then I thought of my wife and of Cassy, and for an instant I saw them too, screaming in terror and pain, wondering why I'd never come back for them.

But then it kicked in, the discipline that had kept me alive when I needed it most, and I was able to take my focus away from the fear and move it over to what I needed to do.

Graham was driving those horses as fast as he could; he didn't need any help from me. I would come up with a way to take the Spirit Animals out before they even saw us coming.

We reached the bridge over the Abitibi. I could see no tire tracks on the road back, no sign that any Toyotas had come this way.

And the gate was still locked; we saw no sign of tampering.

That was nothing close to a guarantee; there were other roads and other bridges, and the river itself was frozen enough in places for a hardened pickup to cross over the ice.

We stopped the cart not far past the junction with New Post Road; there’s nothing quiet about a team of horses. Matt didn’t argue about being left behind with Graham’s SIG as Graham took the shotgun and followed me.

We wound our way through the woods to the back of the barn. He stayed on the ground as I climbed up to the loft; I’d done it enough times that I could do it without making a sound.

I reached the top and I peered down into the kitchen. I could see Fiona there, leaning over the stove and stirring a pot that was close to boiling over. I couldn’t see the others, but I could hear Kayla laughing from wherever she was.

I snuck back down the ladder just as quietly as I’d climbed it.

“We don’t want to surprise them,” I said, finally feeling myself breathing again. “Lisa will mess us up.”

We made our way back to Matt and the horses. He could see from our faces that everything was okay.

As we brought the cart up to the cottage, Sara and Lisa came out to greet us, neither one having bothered to put on a coat.

“What did you find out?” Sara asked.

“Not much,” I said, rushing to give my reply. “Everything’s gone. Looks like they bugged out.”

“Bugged out?” Lisa asked.

“They’ve left,” Graham said. “Didn’t leave much behind.”

Matt added nothing as we went inside. Fiona was bringing dinner out to the table, and we ate in silence for the most part. I hoped that the ladies would think the tension was only fatigue on our part.

When dinner was done, Graham tugged on my elbow as I rose from the table.

“Thanks for dinner, ladies,” he said. “You’ll help with the dishes, Baptiste?”

“I guess,” I said, trying to sound a little rankled.

We went into the kitchen and Matt followed. That was suspicious, I know, but it would have been worse for Matt to be left sitting at the table, craning his neck in the hope of eavesdropping while trying to act like nothing is wrong.

We put the stereo on and played Music @ Work , one of The Hip’s better albums for covering up a secret meeting. You don’t want to use Road Apples for something like that.

“So we’re not telling people?” Graham said in a low voice as he poured water from the jug into the canning pot.

“I don’t know yet,” I said. “It’s not something we should just blurt out over dinner.”

Graham took the pot out to sit atop the wood stove; we’d have some time before we could do any actual work. Usually at that point I'd get a little pissy waiting for the water to heat up, wishing that Ant would have had the chance to install a more efficient water heater; this time I didn't mind the delay.

“We shouldn’t tell them,” Matt said once Graham had come back. “What good will it do to scare the bejesus out of them?”

“We need to be honest with everyone,” Graham said.

“Let’s be honest with ourselves, here,” I said. “We all know how this will work. I’m going to tell Sara later tonight, and Graham, I’m pretty sure you’ll tell Lisa. And let’s assume that Kayla will find a way to extract the information from Matt through some kind of sucking and/or fucking motion…”

“Funny,” Matt said.

“So this really comes down to whether or not we’re going to tell the Porters or the Tremblays.”

“We shouldn’t tell them,” Graham said. “Not yet, anyway. It’s not like they can contribute anything that’s productive at this point. Justin’s hasn’t seemed exactly…stable, lately.”

“I agree,” I said. I left it there. “And let’s leave Fiona out of this, too.”

“Why bother? Who cares if she knows or not?”

“It’s important to me. Just don’t talk to her about it, and tell that to anyone else you’re blabbing to. She’s still just a kid.”

“I don’t think she’d like you calling her that,” Matt said.

“Doesn’t matter. Just leave it to me.”

Graham went to retrieve the water, and then we started in on the dishes.

Matt mostly stood and watched, using his dish towel as a tool for fidgeting.

“So what is our plan now?” Graham said. “Obviously we need to get the hell away from here.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “It’s not going to be any safer out there.”

“It can’t be more dangerous than this, Baptiste. There can’t be that many targets left on their list. And you’re the one they’re really after.”

“So we throw away a good defense in hopes that we can outrun these assholes?”

“Baptiste’s right,” Matt said. “We’re stronger here. Home ice advantage.”

“We’ll play things safer,” I said. “Everyone learns to use the guns. No one leaves the house without having someone with them who's armed and ready to shoot.”

“Not good enough,” Graham said. “I say we pack up whatever we can and we slip out at night. We could be halfway to Lake Temiskaming by morning.”

“We don’t know where these assholes are based right now, or how many there are, or what else could be waiting down the road for us. It’s too risky.”

“So you want us to stay here and wait to die.”

Graham’s attitude was starting to piss me off.

“We can defend ourselves,” I said. “They come for us, we’ll take them out. It’s that simple.”

“What if there are too many of them?” Graham said. “We have what, a dozen people who can shoot…maybe five or six who can actually hit anything? Assuming we have enough guns, which we don’t.”

“They’re not sure they can take us out. That’s probably why they haven't come for us yet. They know they can’t beat us.”

“You’re overconfident.”

“This place may not look like much but they’d need an army to take it from us. They know they’ll spill a lot of their own blood to get in here. So they’re stalling, and when they come for me it’ll be because they’ve gotten desperate. They’ll be hungry and tired and unsure of themselves, and we’ll get them.”