Regan Wolfrom - Coyote

She turned and walked into the kitchen, coming back out with a pair of scissors. She walked over to the living room and the two prisoners.

“Ridiculous,” she said again as she began cutting the plasticuffs off the native boy’s wrists.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

She cut the girl free as well.

The two prisoners grabbed their jackets and ran out onto the side porch. They kept going until they’d disappeared down the path that ran along the lake. I wondered how many deer trails they’d memorized to find their way home through the woods.

Sara turned and went over to the front door. She grabbed her coat off its hook and walked out.

“Where is she going?” Rihanna asked.

“She’s going,” I said. I hadn’t even thought of following her.

“It isn’t safe,” Fiona said. “She can’t go out on her own.”

“Well she just did,” Justin said. “And she just gave New Post permission to keep stealing from us.”

“I think things will be getting a lot worse than stealing,” Lisa said.

“We’ll need to hook up with New Post again,” I said. “Matt… send them a message that we want to talk things through.”

Matt looked over to Justin, who gave him a nod. Like Justin was his goddamn boss.

“Okay,” Matt said. “I’ll set it up.”

“Baptiste?” Fiona said. “What about Sara? Aren’t you going to go after her?”

I nodded and sighed, and then I grabbed my coat and made my way outside. Sara was already on the road, walking along one of the ruts in the snow.

“Sara,” I called out. “Come back here.”

She didn’t answer and she didn’t look back.

“Sara… I’m sorry…”

I heard the clattering of footsteps on the porch as pretty much everyone came out to watch.

“Will you please talk to me?” I said. “Please… I need you to talk to me…”

“Leave me alone,” she yelled back. “I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

“It’s not safe out there by yourself.”

“It’s not safe with you, Baptiste. I’ll take gun-toting marauders and those godforsaken coyotes over you.”

There was no point in walking fifty feet behind her all the way to James Bay, so I turned back to grab my gear.

“I’m taking the truck,” I said to Graham as I passed him on the front porch.

I took the shotgun, and then I drove up the road, watching the fuel gauge creep that much closer to the E. I caught up to Sara at the junction with Nelson Road, pulling just in front of her and stopping. I rolled down my window.

She took a sharp left and headed towards the ditch.

“Are you going to tromp through ten inches of snow rather than talk to me?” I asked her.

She stopped walking, but still she wouldn’t look at me. “Why can’t you give me a little space?”

“You know why.”

“I don’t give a crap about being safe right now.”

“I love you, Sara.”

“You love me… and all that sex with Kayla was a mistake… and I’ll bet you’ll never hit me again… blah fucking blah, Baptiste.”

“I’m not making any promises.”

That got her to turn and face me. “What?” she said.

“I never thought I’d do anything to hurt you. And I don’t want to hurt you, Sara. I don’t. But it doesn’t matter what I tell you, because it happened…”

“Yeah. It happened. And now we’re done.”

“I love you. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You cheated on me. With that skank. And you hit me. You fucking hit me. Did you really think that I’m the type of woman who lets guys beat on her? Did you really think I’d let you do that?”

“I lost control.”

“You’re goddamn right, you lost control. But that’s not my problem anymore. I don’t ever need to see you again.”

“So you’re going to leave? Like right now?”

“I’m going to leave. Right now.”

“You’re going to live in the woods.”

“I’m going to live in the woods.”

“You’re going to eat nuts and berries.”

“Nuts and berries.” I could hear her voice starting to soften.

“You’re going to squat down to take shits in a little hole you’ve dug with your bare hands.”

She sighed. “This is ridiculous. I’m stuck here. I can run off to a new cottage, but I can’t get away from you.”

“I don’t want you to get away.”

“I’m not coming home. I haven’t forgiven you.”

“I know.”

“Not by a long shot.”

“Here’s what needs to happen… if you ever want a chance with me again…”

“Yes?”

“No more Kayla. Ever.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I was willing to do that.

“No more anyone else,” she said. “You wait for me. You wait and you wait, or else you don’t get me. Understand?”

“I understand.”

She climbed into the passenger side of the truck. “It’s a good thing you came after me,” she said. “I forgot my gloves.”

I leaned over to give her a kiss.

“No,” she said. “Not now.”

“Then when?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. Just… not now. You need to wait.”

She turned and looked out the window. There were no tears in her eyes, no sign of worry on her face. It was like she’d made her peace with how things would be from now on, like she didn’t mind at all that she and I would never be the same.

It was Sara not giving a shit about the two of us that hurt the most.

Today is Monday, January 7th.

I don’t recall anyone from New Post ever coming up to see us. It’s always been us visiting them, and that had always suited me fine until we’d realized that they’d been coming up here the whole time, only they’d come up along the deer trails so they could steal our supplies.

So even though we’d heard back from them, and I’d been expecting them to show up today at noon, it was still a little bit of a shock to see two forest green pickup trucks making their way down the road toward our gate on Nelson Road.

We brought out our two trucks, as well as a snowmobile. I’d been tempted to suit up all the way, but I knew that showing that level of distrust would destroy whatever positive feelings might be left. So Sara and I walked out to meet them, unarmed, while Lisa and Graham watched from the grain truck, vests on, with their guns and helmets kept out of sight, down on the seats.

The Marchands and the Porters were holding a second line halfway between the gate and the cottages, just in case.

Gerald Archibald came to talk to us by himself. He seems to have become their spokesman when it comes to us; maybe they think he understands me.

“I want to apologize,” he said. “What some of our young people have been doing is not okay.”

“It’s not just your young people,” Sara said, beating me to it. “Just be honest with us.”

“Why didn’t you ask for our help?” I asked. “Maybe we could have worked out a trade.”

“We’re not allowed to trade with you,” Gerald said.

“What?”

“We’re not allowed. It’s not something I can change.”

“Then who can change it? Who made such an idiotic decision?”

“We have commitments in place,” he said. “It allows us keep our people fed. Now those commitments mean we can’t trade with you.”