Regan Wolfrom - Coyote

“We’ll be coming up on some cottages soon. Lac Hébécourt. Do you think they’ll stop us there?”

“We need to ditch the truck.”

“But we don’t even know what they’ll say.”

“We won’t get a second shot, Kayla. Once they stop us, that’s it. They might just tell us to turn around, or they might take everything we’ve got and send us back on foot. It’s not like we can ask for a do-over.”

“So we dump the truck and then what? We go live in the woods?”

“We’ll find another truck,” I said. “We just need to get off the road and past their defensive lines.”

“Which we haven’t even found yet.”

I stopped the truck.

“Dammit, Baptiste… this is seriously our worst date yet.”

“I’m sure it can get worse.”

We packed up for the trip, shoving what little food we’d brought into our packs. That was when I realized that we hadn’t even eaten since we’d left McCartney Lake.

The sun was maybe a half hour from setting. I was surprised the day had held out that long. It felt like it had gone on forever.

We headed southeast, still wearing our vests and helmets, and with our snowshoes strapped to our boots, toward what we hoped were still just cottages.

For all we knew, the entire lakefront had been converted into a military base.

We came to a section of marsh at the edge of a good-sized lake.

I could see a house on a spit of land where the marsh met the open water.

I took out my binoculars.

“I see smoke,” I said. “Someone lives there. Wish I knew who…”

“I should go.”

“What?”

“I’ll go take a look. No one feels threatened by me. If they catch me, they aren’t going to shoot me.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“No… I am sure of that. People do like me, Baptiste. Well… people who aren’t Sara.” She clasped her hand against her helmet, where her mouth should be. “Sorry…”

I nodded.

She took off her helmet and her vest, then slowly peeled off her riot suit. She pulled her jacket out of her bag, followed by her pink toque and scarf, and her light blue mittens.

“See?” she said as she dressed. “I’m all sweet and innocent.”

“You’re beautiful,” I said. I took of my helmet and gave her a kiss. “Be careful, Kayla.”

She smiled and started walking. She kept her head up and her pace was casual, and she looked exactly like someone who should have been there.

She peered into the window of the cottage, then looked back at me. She held up two fingers and then pointed back to the cottage.

Two people.

She held up her index finger, then ran her hand through her hair.

I was pretty sure she meant “one woman”.

A married couple, maybe? Or two off-duty border guards?

Kayla crawled in the snow beneath the window frame. Once she was past, she stood back up and looked perfectly normal.

I was impressed.

She walked toward the garage. She went around a corner and I couldn’t see her.

I had to get closer.

I grabbed her pack along with mine and followed the treeline toward the garage. I kept going until I could see her.

She’d opened the garage door.

No locks.

She went in for a moment, and then she came back out.

I started off toward her.

She stuck a finger up to the tip of her nose and slowed her pace.

“A snowmobile,” she said. “We could take it on the lake. People would just assume we’re cottagers.”

“Not bad.”

We opened the overhead door by hand, doing our best to make sure we didn’t make any noise. Then we pushed the snowmobile across the yard and around the back of a gray and white boatshed.

We had trouble getting it through a clump of bush, but we eventually got it down to the lake.

“I can drive,” Kayla said in a whisper. “You’re in charge of shooting people.”

I nodded.

We climbed on and she started the engine.

Hopefully the couple in the cottage would think it was the neighbours going for a ride.

Assuming they had neighbours.

We drove along the lake, heading to a collection of lights that had just started to come on at the far side.

I was hoping we’d find a cottage that was dark but not forgotten; if they were still used as cottages, there’d hopefully be some owners who weren’t home.

It didn’t take us long to find just that, a small a-frame that seemed out of place among some newer builds. We found a shed filled with firewood, and so I gingerly broke into the back porch and we found a place to stay.

I could tell they had electricity; everyone on that lake seemed to have it, even though I hadn’t noticed an overabundance of solar or wind installs. It looked like Aiguebelle still had their grid.

We left the lights off but we started a fire after we ate, just big enough to keep us above freezing as we laid together on a couch by the fireplace, under a heavy enough blanket that we could take off our damp clothes.

“Worst date ever?” I asked her as I ran my fingers along her shoulders.

She laughed.

And then we did what two people tend to do when their lying naked together by a half-roaring fire.

I’m not going to bother writing about it.

Today is Friday, January 18th.

I was woken up this morning by the slamming of a car door.

I poked Kayla’s shoulder.

“I heard it,” she said.

I got dressed and grabbed my SIG. I walked over to the nearest window.

There was a car right outside, a green electric two-seater. A young woman was holding open the passenger-side door. She was probably twenty or so, blond hair. And petite. And wearing the kind of tight black t-shirt that you’d expect to see on a girl out on the town.

“ Vas-y, ” the woman said.

She started tugging on someone inside the car.

A young man, about the same age but significantly taller and wider, stumbled out of the car.

“ J’ai besoin de mon camion, ” he said. He needed his truck.

They argued a little, too quickly for me to understand the words. He finally started trudging toward the door of the cabin, weaving as he walked.

He was drunk.

“ Tu seras okay?” she asked him.

“Okay,” he said.

And then I think he said thank you. That or shit . He was mumbling.

She turned around and went back to her car.

“We need that car,” I said.

I heard the car door close.

I rushed toward the door.

The door opened and the drunk man stepped inside. I slammed him against the wall. It wasn’t hard to put him down and out.

“What did you do?” Kayla said. Too loudly.

“Theo?” the woman called out. “ Que se passe-t-il ?”

I heard the car door open. She was coming to check on him.

She probably thought he’d passed out. She obviously cared if he choked on his own tongue.

“No,” Kayla said. “Don’t hurt her.”

“I won’t,” I said.

As she walked inside I wrapped my arm around her throat.

“I have a gun,” I said. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Kayla said. “We just need your car.”

I let go of her neck. She stepped back from me.

“You’re from Timmins?” she asked.

“Matheson,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Elodie.”

“You live around here?”

“This is our cottage,” she said. “My brother stays here when he’s too… soûlard for my parents to see.”

“Your parents live where?”