Regan Wolfrom - After The Fires Went Out - Coyote

“Fiona! Get inside.”

“We don’t know anything about you,” Graham said. “How can you expect us to just let you come in?”

“We don’t expect you to,” Lisa said.

“We don’t have any other options,” Sara said. “You guys are it.”

“So what are you offering?” I asked.

Sara glanced upward, trying to get a look at me. “We’re not offering our bodies. I can tell you that.”

“I mean supplies. Do you have any supplies?”

“No.”

“That makes it easy.”

“Not funny,” Fiona said.

“You guys must bring something to the table,” Graham said. “Right?”

At the time I’d figured he was interested in Sara; I’d certainly been drawn to her.

“We’re willing to work,” Lisa said. “And I can hunt.”

“Matt is strong,” Sara said. “He can help with that kind of thing.”

“What about you?” Graham asked.

“I’m not as strong, but I’m alright.”

“And the other one?” I asked.

“Kayla,” Lisa said. “She’s…she’s something.”

“Something?”

“You’ll like her,” Sara said. “Every man does.”

“Maybe you should have led with her,” I said.

“You’re an asshole,” Lisa said.

Graham laughed.

And I realized who he was really interested in.

“Bring the other two up here,” I said. “Then we’ll talk it over.”

I already knew how I felt about them.

Sometimes being pretty isn’t enough.

Today is Sunday, December 30th.

The tripwire alarm on the Abitibi bridge sounded this morning before anyone was up. It was the first time I’d even heard it since the Porters had arrived at that gate. I knew that it could be the Spirit Animals, but a frontal assault didn’t seem likely. They’d try to sneak up on us.

Or at least they’d jam the signal from the hops.

Lisa and Graham were downstairs before me, Lisa with armour on and her jacket piled overtop, and Graham checking the shotguns.

“The Spirit Animals?” Graham asked.

“I doubt it,” I said.

Lisa and I took the truck. We’d be able to make the trip in less than five minutes; to me, that’s worth the diesel it takes, for as long as we have it. I’m not sure how long it would take someone determined enough to break through the locks on our best gate, but I knew it would take longer than we’d give ‘em.

I could hear ATVs revving up the road from the north shore cottages, probably the Porters. I wasn’t sure if we really needed backup, not that there was much I could do to stop it.

In the end Lisa and I got to the gate in less than four minutes.

Standing by the gate was Eva Marchand.

“This is new,” Lisa said.

I threw my helmet on and climbed out of the truck while Lisa readied the shotgun from her seat.

I left the door open so she could hear.

Eva’s gloved hands clasped in front of her. Her red pickup truck was waiting on the far side, off the bridge completely, with the skinny kid and one of her thirty-something sons, maybe, standing beside it with their rifles.

“What are you doing here, Eva?” I asked. I wasn’t unfriendly.

“Ryan Stems came to our house,” Eva said. I could tell that she was trying to sound unperturbed, but it wasn’t really working.

“He stopped in to see us, too.”

“He told us we had two choices; sign indentures with the Walkers or cross the Abitibi.”

“Or what?”

“Or he’d disarm us…by force if he had to. And take our supplies. And take us to the Walkers anyway.”

“When did he start doing Dave Walker’s dirty work?”

“I think it’s the other way around,” Lisa called out from the truck.

“I think she’s right,” Eva said. “Stems told me that he’s already chased those Spirit Animal men out of the area. He said they won’t be coming back.”

“He sounds a little too confident.”

“He said they were from Detour Lake.”

“I’m not sure I believe that,” I said. “If they were coming in and out of Detour Lake, we’d have seen them.”

“There are always ways around you, Monsieur Baptiste. There are more backroads than you think there are. I don’t think there’s any way to know where those men are. That’s another reason we couldn’t stay where we were. There are too few of us left.”

“Well, there’s not much out this way, Eva. Aiguebelle’s closed its borders. And the bridge is out at Iroquois Falls, from what I hear. Not sure that’s true, though, considering the source.” It wasn’t like I could have any faith in what Gerald Archibald had told me.

Of course, for all I knew Aiguebelle’s border was still open, and Justin was full of shit…more full of shit…

“I’ve heard that, too,” Eva said. “From the Girards.”

I wasn’t sure she even knew what happened to them. “Well, you can still cross at Twin Falls Dam if you’re headed to Temiskaming, but…I wouldn’t recommend the trip.”

“We want to join you. I’m hoping that you’ll consider taking us in. We…we have supplies. And weapons. And quite a bit of ammunition, too.”

“Lisa,” I said, “bring me the keys, will you?”

Lisa climbed out of the truck, slinging the shotgun over her shoulder. She handed me the keys and I began to unlock the gates.

I didn’t bother with the dongle. The alarm had already gone off; we knew they were here.

Two weeks ago I would have done my best to turn the Marchands away. I would have tried to come up with a list of convincing reasons why we shouldn’t have anything to do with people who’d never done much to help us.

But that was before I buried Natalie. And before Eva Marchand had to bury five of her children and grandchildren.

Everything feels different now…there are so few of us left. The anger…what’s happened in the past…it’s all drained out of me. I’m just too damned tired.

I heard ATVs pull up. Justin and Rihanna.

“I can’t promise anything,” I said to Eva, “but I’ll do my best.”

Eva smiled. “Thank you so much, Baptiste.”

“You’re good people” I wasn’t lying. “That’s what counts around here.”

Sara was not happy with me.

“They are not good people,” she said.

Almost every one of us were crowded around the dining room table, Tremblays and Porters included since the ship had sailed on keeping it a secret; the Marchands were waiting up the road, Lisa and Matt keeping an eye on them.

“Good people don’t turn other people away,” Sara said. She stopped for a moment, biting her bottom lip. Then she almost started to laugh. “I know…I’m a hypocrite.”

“You were the one who wanted to have people join us,” I said. “What’s changed?”

“I’m not saying no to the Marchands…I just don’t want us glossing over what they did last winter.”

“So you must hate us, too,” Alain Tremblay said. “That’s good to know.”

I expected the Porters to join in, but Justin and Rihanna just sat silently, listening.

“I don’t hate anyone,” Sara said. “But that doesn’t make what you did okay. I asked for help, and you gave me none. You left us to die.” She turned to look at me. “And honestly, Baptiste, I don’t understand this big turnaround with you.”