Regan Wolfrom - Coyote

“It’s pretty badass,” I said.

“So do we just stand around here waiting for something to happen?” Justin asked.

“We usually sit in the camper,” Sky said. “The kitchenette faces out to the road, so it’s not like we’ll miss someone coming.”

I turned to look at Katie.

She grinned. “I have no problem with staying warm,” she said.

“Well… I think I have a problem with it,” I said.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Justin said.

“If someone wanted to take out a roadblock, they’d either come at us full on with superior force, or they’d sneak up on us on foot. If I was going to do it, I’d go with an ambush.”

“And staring out at the road might not do us any good,” Katie said. “Mr. Baptiste, I’m glad you’re here.”

“I like you.”

“But we’ll take shifts, right?” Justin asked.

“Two shifts,” I said. “One Walker with one whatever the hell we call ourselves.” I looked over to Katie. “What do people call us?”

She laughed. “Did you want the polite version?”

“Let’s stick with that, yeah.”

“My father calls you guys ‘Baptiste’s crew’. Well, ‘F-ing Baptiste’, usually.”

“Are you serious?” Justin said. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve always called us ‘The Justin Porter Gang’.”

“Who’s Justin Porter?” Katie asked. I’m not sure she was joking.

Justin chuckled. “Ouch,” he said.

“Just kidding… I’ve seen you around. If you really want, we can all think you’re badass, too.”

“I am badass.”

“I believe you,” I said. “That’s why you and Sky should take the first shift.”

Katie made us some instant coffee and we sat down at the kitchenette in the musty camper. It was one of the older styles, bulky and fully furnished, from the days when people thought it made perfect sense to try and put a house on wheels. I’d never actually been in that kind of camper before; growing up we lived by my father’s rule that camping always had to involve a tent, and for whatever reason I’d kept the tradition alive with Cassy while Alanna stayed home with the indoor plumbing and frozen pizza.

“My father says some pretty strange things about you, Baptiste,” Katie said as she dumped several tons of sweetener into her mug.

“He thinks I’m an asshole. I think he’s right.”

“I like assholes… they’re the only people who know how to get things done.”

“So you’re an asshole, too?”

“Nah… I’m a treat. I just, like, admire you guys from afar.”

I laughed.

She smiled and gave me a look that I knew well enough. I guess there’s something alluring about men your father can’t stand.

“I’m a little surprised that you’re out here,” I said.

“Sorry… I didn’t realize shooting people was men’s work.”

“I guess that sounded bad… it’s more that you’re Dave Walker’s little girl.”

“His little girl, eh? Wow… facetious and flattering. You know that I’m like older than this camper, right?”

“And only half as musty.”

“Ha! Well, truth is my father doesn’t really like me being here. But my little brother Zach’s just gone up the road with Fisher, so it wouldn’t make sense to tell me I can’t help out. And let’s face it… my life is pretty damned boring. I basically just sit around all day.”

“Yeah, right. I’m sure there’s never any work to do.”

“You’d be surprised. I don’t like to get my hands dirty, or my fingernails scuffed…”

“But seriously… what are things like for you guys?”

“It was harder last winter. Especially since it went on until, like, June. And it was just the six of us trying to run a farm. When we first took it over I didn’t know which end of the chicken lays the eggs.”

“You guys have grown since then… how did you manage it?”

“Same way you guys have… people show up and ask to be a part of the group. Sometimes it feels like we’re not getting things quite right, but compared to most people we’re killing it.”

“What about indentures?”

She began to look uncomfortable. “What about them?” she asked.

“Do you have any?” I already knew the answer.

“What difference does that make?”

“Come on, Katie… I’m sure you can guess how I feel about that crap.”

“Oh, that’s right. Baptiste the abolitionist. No indentures allowed. Must be tough being stuck up here with the hillbillies.” She threw her hands up in the air. “It’s nothing to do with me. I didn’t make the decision.”

“I know you didn’t,” I said, trying to sound like I could relate. “I just don’t know how you guys do it.”

“You have no right to judge us…”

“That’s not what I mean. I just don’t understand how you can even make that work. Why bother getting someone to sign their life away? It’s not like that piece of paper means anything.”

“You’d be surprised,” Katie said. “Those damned indenture docs have a lot more power than you’d think.” She turned and looked out the window at the endless snow. “It runs both ways, you know… it’s a promise from both sides.”

“Yeah… I’ve seen that kind of paperwork before… ten years of service in exchange for ten years of food and shelter. Just no specifics on what that service might be.”

“Can we not talk about this, please?”

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Bullshit… you want to make me feel guilty. But you have no idea what it’s like for me.”

Katie didn’t seem like the type of person who cried easily, but I could see that she was on the edge of something.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was out of line.”

“Yes, you were.” She tried to smile but it didn’t take. “Like some kind of asshole or something. Let’s just find something else to talk about.”

“Sounds good to me.” I smiled. “So… do you know much about Stems?”

“Wow… another great topic.”

“I’m just asking. I’m a lifelong learner.”

“Stems is a problem that doesn’t have a solution. He shoots at us one day and pretends he’s our best friend the next.”

“If he’s the one doing the shooting.”

“Are you saying that we’re shooting at him?”

“That’s not what I mean. I have a feeling that someone’s been doing their best to make it look like they’re killing on behalf of Ryan Stems and the Mushkegowuk Nation.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

“Of course not.” She was getting upset again.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Katie.”

She took a sip of her coffee and scrunched her face from the taste. “So, like… a false flag,” she said.

“Impressive…”

“Oh, I forgot… little girls don’t know how to read books or anything…”

“Yeah… okay…”

“It wouldn’t make sense for a gang of marauders to go to the trouble, would it?”

“Probably not. It’s not like we’d be so intimidated by painted helmets that we’d just give up.”

“So who? One of the families around here? Someone further away?”

I shrugged. “Sons of Flesh?”

“Or Detour Lake?”

“There’s too many to choose from.”

“It’s great to be popular. Either way, it’s backfiring.”

“What do you mean?”

She looked away. Her fingers started tapping on the table. “I don’t know…”

“No… you know, Katie.”

She gave me a slow and heavy sigh. “My father’s been talking to Stems.”

“Talking?”

“Protection. I don’t know if we’d be a full-on part of the Nation or whatever…”