Regan Wolfrom - After The Fires Went Out - Coyote

“We should adjourn,” Sara said, trying to sound calm. It wasn’t working. “Maybe we can try again tomorrow.”

“I’m going to New Post,” Justin said. “I’m going to get some answers.”

“I’m pretty sure they hate you at New Post,” Lisa said.

“I should be the one to go,” I said.

“Oh?” Justin said. “Well…uh, sorry Baptiste…I wasn’t clear. I want someone to go to New Post and not fuck it up. So you’re out.”

“I’ll fuck you up…”

“You’ll both go,” Alain said. “But take someone with you…maybe someone they don’t hate.”

“I’ll go,” Lisa said. “I’m the right colour.”

“I think that might be racist,” Graham said.

“It’s only racist when you say it.”

“Yeah,” I said. “White people, eh?”

Lisa nodded. “You’re still half-racist, Baptiste. Never forget.”

“Enough goddamn chit chat,” Justin said. “I’ll be outside in twenty minutes. Bring me a vest and helmet. There’s no way we should show up without our gear.”

“Agreed,” I said.

“If that’s decided,” Sara said, “I think we’re done.”

“You mean adjourned?” Lisa asked.

“Whatever.”

She stormed upstairs before Justin had the chance to stomp out through the living room.

You know things are messed up when Lisa starts looking like the calm one.

“So what do we do?” Lisa asked me.

Justin was outside, waiting to go. Apparently his strategy was to pretend like we had no reason to hate him.

“What can we do?” I asked. “Can we shoot him?”

“Make it look like an accident?”

“We still need him.”

“He tried to kill you, Baptiste.”

“I don’t think he did. It’s not like he’s been giving orders to Detour Lake. He’s just under the mistaken impression that we can work with them.”

“He can work with them,” Lisa said. “You and I are the ones who can’t. Unless those assholes want to give us some kind of ‘honourary Aryan’ badges. I honestly think we should make sure Justin Porter has an accident. You already threw a nice one for Marc Tremblay.”

“I don’t know…”

“He’s going to cost us. More than we can pay.”

“Once he’s gone, he’s gone,” I said. “That’ll weaken us.”

“We need people we can trust.”

“We need people who can shoot.” I picked the third riot suit up out of the chest. “At least for now.”

Justin, Lisa and I were in full gear when we took the Tremblays’ truck to New Post. There was still enough diesel for the trip (but not much more), and I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of Ryan Stems and his guns tearing through what little horse flesh we have.

They were expecting us, with almost a dozen people waiting for us at the New Post gate. I counted six hunting rifles and a shotgun, and a couple of council members standing behind the engine block of a pickup.

No sign of Stems.

We got out of the truck and walked towards them in a line, our guns at our sides, but ready. Justin looked just as comfortable with his rifle as I was with the Mossberg, while Lisa actually seemed the shakiest for once.

Gerald Archibald stepped around his hiding place and walked up to us.

I guess he didn’t think we’d shoot him.

“I’m sorry, guys,” he said as he held out his right hand.

I wasn’t about to shake it. “What kind of arrangement do you have with Ryan Stems?” I asked.

“Stems has guns. That’s the extent of it. He came to the rail bridge yesterday morning and we had to let him through.”

“What’s the point of even having gates?” Lisa asked.

“Do you really think we were going to fight a war because a fellow member of the Mushkegowuk Nation wants to pass through our land?”

“I don’t believe you,” Lisa said. “Ryan Stems isn’t a threat to you. Don’t bother with this ‘under duress’ garbage.”

“So what happens when Stems asks you to go to war with us?” Justin asked.

“No one’s going to war,” Gerald said.

Justin took a step closer to Gerald, sizing him up. “I’m ready. I want you to know that.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No one wants threats,” I said. “I just don’t know how we can trust you.”

Gerald nodded toward Justin. “And you trust this guy?”

“What’s not to trust?” Lisa said. “He steals, he lies…”

“Watch it,” Justin said.

“Go ahead,” I said. “I’d love to see what happens when you take a shot at Lisa. I’m guessing it’ll end with your face in the snow.”

“I can’t promise to support you against Stems and the Mushkegowuk Nation,” Gerald said. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“We get that,” Lisa said. “But it was pretty shitty for you guys to deactivate our alarm system.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We have the logs, Gerald. You guys turned off our alarm so Stems could sneak up on us.” She was convincing; I almost believed her.

“It’s an act of war,” Justin said. “You know that, right?”

“I’m sorry,” Gerald said. “I don’t want this to get in the way of our friendship.”

“There’s no friendship here,” I said. “You stabbed us in the back, and you’ve just admitted that you’ll do it again and again.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“There’s no point in talking about this. There’s no point in us even being here. We need to get home and take care of our own.”

“I’m sorry, Baptiste,” Gerald said.

“Don’t bother,” I said.

Justin opened his visor and spit on the ground. He then marched off, headed back towards the truck.

Lisa backed away slowly, keeping her shotgun ready.

I turned my back to leave, trusting that they’d have no reason to shoot me.

We got back to the Tremblays’ truck and made our way back home.

I told Matt to cut them off from the hop. I wanted them nowhere near our network.

I’ll be happy if I never see or hear from another one of those New Post assholes again.

Today is Saturday, December 29th.

Sara and I decided to spend some time after breakfast going over the inventory. After a cursory display of helping clean up the dishes, I went out to the table to find that Sara had already unfolded her tablet to widescreen.

“Ready for business, eh?” I said.

“I’ve sent you something,” she replied.

I took out my tablet.

“You’ll need to go bigger,” she said.

“So detail-oriented,” I said. “ Très sexy.”

She didn’t smile. “Let’s just get started.”

I unfolded my tablet to the wider screen. “Inventory list? Don’t I have this?”

“It’s a new version,” she said. “For your eyes only.”

I chuckled.

“It’s not a joke, Baptiste.”

I opened the document. “Four scenarios?”

“Just read.”

“None of these sound too promising. Porters and Tremblays leave with over half our supplies? A ‘cold war’ with New Post? Wow, Sara…you’re supposed to be the optimist.”

“There’s an optimists’ scenario. The one marked ‘rainbows and unicorns’.”

“What’s gotten into you? What is this?”

She groaned. “It’s reality, Baptiste. Things are going from bad to worse, and I don’t see how we’re going to turn it around.”