Regan Wolfrom - After The Fires Went Out - Coyote

“I love you, Kayla,” I said. “It’s just hard to focus on anything other than getting one of our people back.”

“Do you blame me for what’s happened?”

“What? No…it’s not your fault. If anything, it’s my fault. I should have dealt with Justin a long time ago. And I still haven’t dealt with him. I should have let him die in that ditch.”

“Do you still want me?”

“Yes. I still want you.”

“Then prove it.” She was still crying.

“Like right now?”

She nodded. “Upstairs.”

She turned and walked over to the stairs.

I followed.

We went into my bedroom.

We took off our clothes and we laid together under the sheets.

I rubbed her back, her shoulder, and her neck, occasionally pressing my lips against her skin.

That was all she seemed to need.

After a few minutes she fell asleep.

Today is Friday, January 11th.

I received a message this morning before I’d even woken up.

It was sent from Gerald Archibald, but it wasn’t Gerald Archibald. It was Ryan Stems. Evidently, Matt hadn’t switched back to disabling their access.

We need to talk. This whole situation has gotten messed up. Let’s meet. Just the two of us. Hwy 652 over the Abitibi River at noon. Bring an appetite.

“It’s a trap,” Kayla said when I showed her my tablet. “He wants to take you into custody for the attack on Archibald.”

“He doesn’t need to trap me,” I said. “If he wanted to he could crash through our gates and shoot every last one of us.”

“That’s a happy thought.”

“It’s a happy day.”

“You’re not going to go…”

“I’m a curious person, Kayla. I have to find out what he wants.”

“He wants you dead.”

“I don’t think so. Gerald Archibald might want me dead. Maybe. But not Ryan Stems.”

“You are going to feel pretty stupid when he shoots you in the head. And you know what? I’ll just laugh and say ‘I told you so’.”

“You’d laugh?”

“I’d laugh.” She leaned in and gave me a kiss. “Seriously, though…don’t go.”

But she knew I was going.

I told Lisa what was happening, and she and Graham went with me with the cart to 652, while Kayla and Matt headed over to the Marchands to see about setting up another defensive line across the road.

“He’s going to kill you,” Graham said.

“He won’t kill you,” Lisa said. “But if he does…well, oops.”

I laughed. I guess it was a nervous laugh.

“So if he tries to take you?” Lisa asked.

“Run up and shoot him,” I said. “Or shoot me. Just shoot somebody.”

“Will do, boss.”

Graham stopped the cart at a driveway to one of the burnt-out houses, two back from the bridge.

I hopped down and started walking toward the river, with just my SIG and my vest. Graham and Lisa had a third helmet with them, but it wouldn’t do me any good back on the cart.

As I approached the bridge I could see Stems through the metal gate, sitting at what appeared to be a folding wood table, like you’d see at a garden reception. He was sitting alone, but I could see a couple of trucks on the far side of the bridge.

He raised a hand straight into the air, some kind of wave.

I did the same.

I reached the gate and pulled out my key.

“It’s a good gate,” Stems said. “I’m not even sure we could bust through it without a tank or something.”

“Then I guess you’d better get yourself a tank,” I said.

“Working on it.”

I disabled the alarm with my dongle, and stepped through the gate. I relocked and reactivated on the other side.

“We’re thinking of getting our own gate,” Stems said. “Come and sit down, Baptiste. I think you’ll like what we’ve got for lunch.”

It was a little cold for dinner on a patio, but I sat down.

There was nothing on the table.

“Where’s Sara Vachon?” I asked.

“We’ll talk about her. Don’t worry…we’ll get there.”

I saw a young woman walking toward us. It was Stems’ young wife, Anna, carrying two plates.

She placed one down in front of me, and then the other in front of Stems. On my plate was a stack of four pancakes, with a square of butter on the top.

“Thank you,” I said to her.

She nodded and walked back toward the trucks.

“There’s more,” Stems said. “Hold on.”

Another young native woman came to the table with a porcelain pitcher of syrup and a matching bowl. In the bowl were fresh bananas, cut into pieces.

I thanked her.

She smiled and kept standing by the table.

“All the way from Georgia,” Stems said.

“That’s something.”

He smiled. “I’m trying to impress you, Baptiste.”

“I’m already seeing someone.”

“These bananas came up the Mississippi on a barge. Then they put them on a truck and drove them across Michigan and dropped them off in Sudbury. That’s where we got them.”

“The Mississippi doesn’t run through Georgia.”

“That was the abbreviated version. Anyway, Anna’s sister Genevieve went down to Sudbury and picked them up just for us.” He looked up at the young woman beside the table. “Thank you again, Genevieve.”

“My pleasure,” she said. She smiled at me again and then she left the table.

I had a feeling that Stems was trying to keep me distracted with his cavalcade of pretty girls. Apparently my reputation has spread.

“You’re supposed to ask how she got to Sudbury,” Stems said. “Come on, Baptiste…you have to know a little bit about the local geography to get the full effect.”

“I know the fastest way to get from Mississauga to Markham during rush hour. That’s about it.”

“Humour me.”

“Okay…so how did she get to Sudbury?”

“Through Timmins. You see Baptiste, I can send my wife’s little sister ― with a light escort ― through a town run by a motorcycle gang, without the slightest need to worry for her well-being. Because the Mushkegowuk Nation is strong enough to earn their respect.”

“But not strong enough to scare off a few guys with painted helmets and mounted machine guns.”

That didn’t seem to irk him as much as I’d hoped. “Do you see them anywhere?”

“I don’t get out much these days.”

“They’re gone. Tucked their tails between their legs and run off home to Detour Lake.”

“Detour Lake, eh? Not sure I buy that. One of those assholes reminded me a lot of you.”

“Ruggedly handsome?”

“So fucking ugly he keeps his stupid helmet on. Thinks he’s a coyote trapped in a pervert’s body…likes to have fun with teenage girls…and seems to prefer it if those girls aren’t having fun right back. Sound familiar?”

He chuckled. “Don’t bother trying to make me hate you, Baptiste. I’m there already. Didn’t stop me from saving your ass from those little boys and their technicals.”

“You saved me, did you? And the proof is where, exactly?”

“The proof is in your girls still being snug in their beds. No one’s taken them yet, have they?”

“Is that a threat?”

He sighed. “I’m going to eat now.”

He took off his gloves.

He took a spoonful of bananas and spread them over his pancakes. Then he drowned the plate in syrup and started eating.

I did the same, more or less, keeping my gloves on.

I hadn’t eaten bananas in two years; they were gone from the shelves months before the comet struck.