Regan Wolfrom - After The Fires Went Out - Coyote

“It’s not that bad.”

“Justin’s about to do something stupid. I just don’t know what. And Stems won’t put up with us scavenging across the river anymore…”

“Put up with us? Like he has a choice…”

“We don’t have many friends left, Baptiste. It’s getting pretty close to us against everyone else.”

“And that’s my fault, right? That’s your big lesson here?”

“What do you want me to say? You want me to pretend that every decision you’ve made was the right one?”

“They all seemed right at the time. Like you could do any better.”

“That’s not what I’m saying…” she turned away from me.

“Then what are you saying, Sara? Please…tell me…” I grabbed her hand and gave it a little squeeze.

She yanked her hand away. “Don’t.”

“What is it? What’s the problem?”

“You’re my problem. And I’m stuck with you. You run around flirting with every pussy in the district, and I just have to sit back and take it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Suzanne Tremblay…Katie Walker…Kayla Fucking Burkholder…what is it with you?”

“I haven’t done anything!”

“Maybe…maybe not yet…”

“Are we going to talk inventory or not?”

She grabbed her tablet and stood up from her chair. “Just read, Baptiste. And message me when you’re done. I don’t want to be around you right now.”

Sara stormed back up the stairs.

That’s about all she ever does these days.

After an auspiciously Sara-free lunch, I decided to help Kayla outside. It was probably the nicest day since the snow had fallen, so that was a bonus.

“Do you really check the water every day?” I asked as she headed into the chicken coop.

“Twice a day, actually,” she said. “But only in winter. Can’t let it freeze.”

“You’d think Graham could wire something up for that. A thermometer…”

“Some things are just better the way they are. Nice and simple.”

“Simple. Sounds nice…”

“I already said that,” she said with a grin. “No eggs…I would have thought there’d be some since this morning. Our hens are getting older.”

We started walking over to the goat pen.

“I’m thinking we can try again this year,” Kayla said. “Throw one of the roosters in and let nature take its course.”

“I think it was the weather. Bad air, bad food…this year will be better.”

“I hope so.”

We checked the goats’ feed and water.

“So Graham lets you handle the goats now?” I asked.

“He doesn’t like it. But whenever Suzanne Tremblay beckons, Graham goes running.”

“He’s still doing that?”

“She’s French…he’ll always do that. Until Lisa kills him.”

“I don’t get that. What’s so special about French women?”

“Says the guy who likes to canoodle with Sara Vachon. ”

“Yeah, sure. But what does Suzanne Tremblay have over Lisa…or you?”

“Or me?”

I think I was blushing. “Come on, Kayla…you’re…I just don’t see what’s special about Suzanne.”

She stuck her finger out and poked me in the nose. “You’d fuck her.”

“No comment.”

She laughed. “Women suck, Baptiste. You know…other women. They get all pissy whenever their guy’s eye starts wandering…like it’s a personal affront to them that he’d ever think about doing what his body’s programmed to do.”

“Fuck strippers?”

She glared at me.

It took me a moment to realize what I’d said.

“You’d fuck me,” she said. “Even if I was a filthy stripper.”

“I’m sorry…it was just another stupid attempt at a joke.”

“It’s okay, Baptiste. You don’t need to apologize to me. I get you, you know?”

“Yeah…”

“Goats are good. It’s all good. We should sit on the dock and get wasted.”

I was tempted to say yes. Wouldn’t Sara love that, seeing me sharing a bottle with Kayla Fucking Burkholder.

Maybe she’d realize that her bitch routine was the quickest way to get me down to that dock with Kayla.

“I should get going,” I said. “I have some reading to do.”

She smiled. “That won’t stop me from getting drunk on the dock.”

“I know. That’s what I like about you Kayla…you’re nice and simple.”

She punched me lightly on the shoulder.

I waved goodbye.

It’s been a year and three months since the day that Sara and Lisa showed up at our door.

It was late September, not that it was recognizable. The ash clouds seemed just as thick as they’d been since the comet, and the ground was frozen but barren of snow. There hadn’t been much of anything, not much rain…the only thing that even reminded us of normal weather was the wind, and by late September that wind was getting colder.

Sara was dressed for the coming winter, like she’d expected a blizzard at any moment. She smiled at Graham as he opened the door; I doubt she even suspected that I had a shotgun trained on her chest.

Not that I was sure I’d be able to pull the trigger.

Lisa knew I was there; she couldn’t see me, but she knew. She was holding an old Winchester that looked like it hadn’t been fired in fifty years; there was no way it was serviceable, and from the way she was holding it, I could tell that she knew enough about guns to know that all she had was a bluff for idiots.

And she knew we weren’t idiots.

“My name’s Sara Vachon,” Sara said as she held out her hand.

Graham took it. “We’ve met,” he said. “I think…”

“Well you’re Graham Ellie…”

“I guess I’m famous.”

“You’re not famous,” Lisa said.

“This is Lisa,” Sara said. “Lisa Wesley. She’s in charge of charming people.”

Graham offered Lisa his hand.

She glared at him like he’d just pulled down his pants.

I did my best not to laugh out loud.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Graham asked.

“We heard that Fiona Rees is with you,” Sara said. “That you took her in.”

“Sorry…I don’t know her.”

“You’re lying,” Lisa said.

“You’re charming.”

“Look,” Sara said, “we need your help. We’ve got nowhere to go.”

“It’s just the two of you?”

“Four,” Lisa said.

That set me off. They’d expected us to take them in, but they were hiding half their people out of sight.

“Husbands?” Graham asked. “Kids?”

“Just two more mismatched socks,” Sara said.

“Where are they?”

“They’re in position,” Lisa said.

“Oh…to take us out?”

“To keep us safe.”

That was too much for me.

I laughed.

“What’s so goddamn funny?” Lisa asked, looking upstairs to my open window.

“Your gun can’t shoot and I can see your car up the road,” I said. “With two people cowering inside.”

“Glad we’re entertaining you,” Sara said.

“Who are they?” Graham asked. “The other two.”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters,” I said. “We’re not really looking for more liabilities.”

That set Fiona off; she was supposed to stay in the basement stairwell, quiet as a mouse, but instead she marched out to the front porch, pushed past Graham, and walked right down the steps to the gravel walk. She turned up to my window.

“I’m a liability?” she asked. “Are you kidding me? Who cooks your meals, Baptiste?”

“Get inside,” I said.

“Hello, Fiona,” Sara said.