After The Fires Went Out: Coyote (Book One of the Post-Apocalyptic Adventure Series) (10 page)

“So what?”

“Don’t we have a very specific policy of not allowing anyone to transport people across our territory for indenture? Didn’t we almost get into a shooting match with Detour Lake last summer about this very same thing? Dropping him off in Aiguebelle means condoning slavery. I’m not willing to do that.”

Justin shook his head. “Slavery? That’s a pretty loaded word.”

“What would you call forcing a person to sign their freedom away just so they can eat?”

“I call it two squares and a place to sleep,” Justin said. “And if Caleb doesn’t want that he can live out in the woods or something, catching fish with his gotch. Either way, he won’t be our problem anymore.”

“I won’t fight it,” Caleb said. “I have nothing to keep me in Cochrane anymore.”

Justin smiled. “Beats the alternative... and saves us having to dig another grave.”

“What...” Kayla said, her voice quivering. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Problem?” Justin asked.

“You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re a slut. Are we all about labels now?”

“That’s enough, Justin,” I said. “You’re over the line.”

He sighed. “Shit,” he said quietly. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Kayla. That wasn’t cool.”

“No, it really wasn’t,” Sara said, positioning herself in front of Kayla. “Look... I really think you should go home now, Justin.”

The way he glared at her surprised me. I could see the red in his face. “I’m not going anywhere, Sara,” he said. “Get used to it.”

“We don’t have any real proof,” Fiona said. “There’s some reasonable doubt here.”

“Fuck reasonable doubt,” Justin said. “I’m reasonably certain that the world will be a better place without this piece of shit.”

“This isn’t a debate,” I said. “I’ve made up my mind.”

Justin seemed pleased by that for once. “We can use my car.”

“You have enough charge to make the trip?”

“More than enough.”

“How has this been decided?” Graham asked. “This isn’t right.”

“Fuck,” I said. “It’s been decided, Graham. Let it go.”

“All hail King Baptiste,” Lisa muttered.

I’m not sure why everyone keeps calling me that.

Caleb didn’t say a word as Justin drove us toward Quebec; he was still bound with the plasticuffs and I’d put the hood back on.

The road to Aiguebelle was paved, but it hadn’t been maintained much even before the comet and The Fires, with surface breaks and a shoulder that dropped away every few hundred meters.

It didn’t take long for us to reach the junction at Wade Lake. If you turn left there, it’s a good two hours to go visit the “objectivist commune” at Detour Lake. If you turn right and keep on for twenty minutes or so, you can get to Iroquois Falls, which used to be a small city before the plumbing went funny and people started puking their organs out.

We went straight, toward Quebec and the twin cities of Rouyn-Noranda and Val-d’Or, or Aiguebelle as they like to be called. Those fine folks tend to talk down to we savages from Ontario.

About two minutes later Justin pulled over.

He climbed out of the car.

I assumed he was going to take a piss.

He pulled up his seat and grabbed Caleb by the arm. “Time to get out,” he said.

“Hold on,” I said. “What the hell are you doing?”

“End of the line.” He pulled Caleb out and pushed him toward the ditch.

“We’re nowhere near Aiguebelle.”

“This is as close as this kid’s getting.”

“Wait,” Caleb said. “What are you doing?”

“That Aiguebelle stuff was all for show,” Justin said. “A little bit of role playing for the ladies.”

“No, Justin,” I said. “This isn’t the plan.”

“Hold up... so you were serious? You were going to drag this sorry sack of shit to Aiguebelle? The borders are closed, Baptiste. They won’t let anyone in these days... and certainly not a goddamn murderer.”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Caleb said.

“Shut up,” I said. “Since when are the borders closed?”

“Since I’ve been moving people for a long time, Baptiste. The last few loads Marc and I made to Quebec, before you guys made us quit... I had to sneak them past the border guards. This needs to happen. We need to kill him.”

“No. This isn’t how we handle things.”

“It needs to be. If you don’t have the sack for it...”

“I was worried you’d try to trade him off as a twink to Detour Lake... but not this...”

“He’s worth nothing, Baptiste. And I fucking made you a promise, remember? No more trades outside your damned Supply Partnership.”

“Yeah... you make a lot of promises.”

“Seriously...”

“So keep your latest promise. Let’s take him to Aiguebelle. He can stand at the border and beg for them to open it. Then he’s their problem.”

“We’re not giving this asshole any more chances. You gave Ryan Stems a second chance, and look what that got us. Little Ant Lagace with three bullets in his chest.”

“This isn’t the same thing,” I said.

“You’re right. This time we know that there’s no upside to second chances. This time it ends with a bullet to the brain. Now either shoot this asshole or give me your gun and I’ll do it myself.”

“Shit, Justin.”

“Don’t make me bash this fucker’s head in with a rock.”

I was losing control. “What the fuck is this? Do you think you can manipulate me into shooting someone?”

“I’m not trying to manipulate you... I’m giving you the facts. Only two of us are getting back in that car.”

“Not a chance,” I said. “We’re taking him to Aiguebelle.”

“We need to kill him.”

“I’m not going to let that happen.” I grabbed Caleb and steered him back toward the road. “We’re better than that. We’re not murderers.”

“Fuck this shit,” Justin muttered as he began to follow behind. He was pissed.

I was getting used to it. It’s easier to keep track of the precious few who still like me than try to count all the people who want to feed me to the coyotes.

I saw movement from the corner of my eye.

Justin grabbed Caleb’s shoulder and pulled him backward.

I figured he was about to throw a punch. I threw my arm out, trying to grab his left elbow. It wouldn’t stop his right from swinging, but I hoped it’d throw off his aim.

I wasn’t able to stop it. Justin took Caleb down with the first blow. He started kicking him as I tried to pull him off.

“Come on, Justin,” I said. “This is crazy.”

He turned and gave me a shove. “You gonna stop me, Baptiste?”

It was a good question. I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m done with this,” Justin said. He started marching back toward the car.

I knelt down and worked to help Caleb to his feet. He slowly staggered up onto his knees. He was dazed; I’m sure the hood over his head wasn’t helping.

We were far enough from home.

I started to loosen the string that held the bag around his neck.

I heard Justin open his trunk.

I turned around to see the hunting rifle.

He was aiming it at Caleb, who was still on his knees and still blind.

“Don’t do it,” I said, trying to block the shot and hoping that would actually work to dissuade him from pulling the trigger.

He fired once.

Caleb fell back down.

A bullet to the brain.

Blood and grey matter on my pants.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I asked. I pulled my gun and pointed it at Justin’s head.

“I’m the guy who handles shit. You can call me Justin.”

“This isn’t a fucking joke.”

“This whole world is a fucking joke. Just look around you.”

I was angry; I wanted to kill him.

I could say that Caleb got loose somehow, that he’d pulled my gun and shot Justin before I had a chance to react.

“I can’t believe you did that,” I said.

“I told you I was going to do it.”

“You’re a goddamn psychopath.”

“Don’t call me that. I did this to keep my family safe. And to keep you guys safe, too, Baptiste. Don’t you dare treat me like a criminal.”

“Then stop killing people.”

“Do you know the difference between you and me? Aside from the fact that I’ve accepted that I’m an asshole, while you’re still trying to be something else.” He paused for a second. “No, don’t worry... I’ll tell you.”

“Just shut the hell up.”

“No. This is important. The difference between us. When I get home tonight I’ll tuck my kids into bed and then I’ll fuck my wife up the poop chute. When you get home you’ll start thinking about how your wife and daughter are dead, and how you don’t even know where they’re buried or even how they died. How is that anything but the biggest goddamn joke in the whole fucking universe?”

“Fuck you.”

“You’ll change your mind about this,” he said. “It was him or us, Baptiste. That’s how it goes these days.”

“I don’t see how I can trust you after this.”

“You’re going to have to trust me. With that gimp heart of yours, it won’t be long before you’re dead and buried beside Ant and I’m the only one left to take care of things. Sara’s going to depend on me. You realize that, right? Kayla and Fiona, too. Shit, Baptiste... I’m all you’ve got.”

I lowered the gun. I wasn’t about to use it.

I still needed him.

I didn’t tell anyone the truth about tonight.

Once we got back to McCartney Lake, I waited in the car outside the Porters’ cottage.

Justin lent me a pair of clean pants and dropped me off at home.

Fiona was waiting downstairs, goofing around on her tablet. She asked me if I’d talked to anyone from Aigubelle at the gate at Eades Junction, if I’d had a chance to ask if they had any of those artisan breadmakers to trade; I told her that there were two constables at the gate but that they said they didn’t have time to talk. Even if we’d gotten all the way there, I still wouldn’t have asked about a goddamn breadmaker. It’s not like Aiguebelle trades with people like us anyway.

“I was worried about Justin at first,” she told me. “That he wasn’t good for us. But I’m glad there’s another person around who has enough training to... you know... back you up or whatever.”

I smiled and nodded; I was tempted to tell her the truth, to let her know that her instincts had been right, but I didn’t.

It’s enough for me to know what he’s capable of.

And I didn’t want anyone to know that I’d done nothing to stop him.

That I don’t really have a handle on Justin Porter.

There’s no good that can come from telling people that.