After The Fires Went Out: Coyote (Book One of the Post-Apocalyptic Adventure Series) (21 page)

“Sorry,” Alain Tremblay said. “I’ll drop something off in a few days.”

“This keeps happening,” I said. “This is becoming a problem. I don’t like being a hardass –-”

“You love being a hardass,” Sara said.

“Okay then... I love being a hardass, so I can’t stop myself from pointing out that you guys aren’t taking your counts seriously enough.”

“We don’t see the value,” Marc Tremblay said.

“Excuse me?” Sara said. “Did you really just say that?”

Marc just smirked while his brother Alain stood from his chair, looking as though he were preparing to give a speech. “We know there’s value in it,” Alain said, “but we have other priorities. We need firewood and we need fuel... that’s most important to us right now.”

I decided to stand up, too. “You also need food and medicine,” I said. “We just don’t know how much you need because you’re not keeping track. Your priorities are screwed up, guys. If you run out of firewood sometime mid-winter we can give you some of the wood we're storing for next year, or hell... you can even go out and chop down some balsam fir and burn it the same day as long as you’ve still got hot embers in your stove.” I looked over at Sara; she hadn’t bothered to look up from her papers, so I kept going. “And if you don’t have fuel for your truck, you just don’t drive it. We have a cart and horses that never run out of gas, and the Porters have one of those tiny electric shitboxes that's so popular with the kids these days. We've all learned how to share with others.”

“Just get your counts in as soon as you can,” Sara said. “We need to stop thinking like we’re three little silos. We need to start acting like one big team. We’re all in this together, right?”

Alain nodded and sat down, while Marc muttered something that I couldn’t make out.

I saw Kayla roll her eyes; I think she wanted Sara to notice, too, but I know Sara wouldn’t have given her the satisfaction.

I sat back down while Sara continued on to new business.

Rihanna Porter raised her hand. Her husband was sitting beside her with a quiet but serious face, while her kids were messing around a little too close to the wood stove.

“What is it, Rihanna?” Sara asked.

“Some good news,” she said. “Justin and I found a couple tanks of diesel fuel up by Silver Queen Lake.”

“What were you doing up there?” I asked. I checked the map on my tablet just after I spoke, and I was glad to see that the lake was pretty much where I thought it would be. People around here know lakes and rivers the way I know the streets between Dundas and Bloor; I'm not sure how they remember them all.

“We went for a drive in our shitbox. We didn’t think there was a problem with going up there.”

“You’d said you were going to check for batteries on 2 and 3. Silver Queen is a long way from there.”

“We went to visit the Smiths,” Justin said. “I didn’t realize we needed a permission slip.”

“You need to stay safe. That’s all that matters here. Maybe you don’t remember when people tried to kill us two days ago?”

“Well, either way,” Rihanna said, “the Smiths are gone. Took both their trucks and left.”

“They left?”

Rihanna nodded. “They’re gone.” She didn’t seem all that concerned.

“Did you get that diesel from their place?” Sara asked.

“They didn’t leave anything of value there. Cleaned it right out.”

“But with the Smiths gone,” Justin said, “there’s no reason not to start cleaning out the other cottages around there. There are over fifty homes on that lake... I'd say several truckloads' worth of supplies.”

“How can that be?” I asked. “The Smiths must have gone through and taken everything they could get their hands on.”

“The Smiths were lazy. They had the road blocked off to the rest of the world, so they just grabbed whatever they needed at the moment and left the rest right where they found it.”

“We’d like to borrow that big diesel truck from the Tremblays,” Rihanna said. “Justin and I can make a few trips to empty out those cottages. I’d guess there’s a years’ worth of supplies up there.”

“I’m not comfortable with that,” Marc Tremblay said.

“You’re not comfortable with what, exactly?”

“With you taking our truck up to Silver Queen Lake. If anything, Alain and I will take the truck and one of you can squeeze into the cab and come with us.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Justin said. “We’ve already gone through and made a list of what’s there. It’ll be much faster for us to go grab it.”

“It’s too bad the smaller truck’s gone,” Marc said. “Maybe you guys should get your own damn truck... there are plenty of them sitting around in Cochrane.” He sounded pretty pissy for a guy who used to make runs with Justin.

“We brought back the fuel,” Rihanna said. “Just let us use the truck, please? We’ll get it done more quickly if we use the team we’re used to.”

“I think that makes sense,” Sara said. “They can retrieve the supplies while the rest of us get to work on the five hundred other things we need to get done before January hits.”

“I’m still not comfortable with it,” Marc said. “I think that should be the end of it. I don’t owe you guys anything.”

I couldn't let it drop right there; too much was being left unsaid.

“Sara’s too nice to say it,” I said to Marc, “but you’re busy enough as it is. You guys are behind on inventory and your place is nowhere near ready for minus forty. If you think you’re going through a lot of firewood now...”

“It’s fine,” Alain Tremblay said, his voice much friendlier than his brother’s. “Take the truck. But I’m going to count the pennies in the ashtray.” He gave a smile as part of his concession.

Rihanna laughed. “Actually, it’s the air freshener we’re interested in,” she said.

“So that’s settled?” Sara said. She received a few nods.

I had a feeling that nothing was really settled as far as Marc Tremblay was concerned.

After a few more topics that were more than a little boring, Sara called for adjournment, and we were soon on our walk back to our cottage. The Tremblays had driven over on their ATVs and they flew by us almost as soon as they had climbed onto their vehicles. They still use fuel like it’ll never run out.

“I’m surprised you backed me up on that truck thing,” Sara said to me as we walked along the rutted road.

“You shouldn’t be surprised by that,” I said. “I don’t agree with you on it, but I wasn’t about to argue.”

“So you don’t agree, huh? You know that Marc Tremblay was just being pigheaded.”

“I know, but that’s not the issue. There was something odd about the way the Porters were insisting on doing it all themselves. There’s no reason for them to want to avoid sharing the work.”

“You think they’re trying to hide supplies from us?”

“It’s not that. It’s just a feeling that they’re not being completely honest with us. I’m not sure I believe their story for being up at Silver Queen Lake in the first place.”

“I get what they’re doing,” Graham said. “Marc and Alain can sometimes be more trouble than they’re worth. They’re always questioning every decision, pulling their passive-aggressive bullcrap whenever they’re feeling underappreciated, which in their minds seems to be all the friggin’ time.”

“It doesn’t get us any further towards working together,” I said. “The best way to whip the Tremblays into shape is to get them used to how we do things around here.”

Sara laughed. “You’ve walked into this one, Baptiste,” she said. “Now you have no choice but to come with me this afternoon. We’re going to help the Tremblays count their inventory.”

“Help them? Who said anything about that?”

“It’s called an ambush. It’ll work better if there’s no warning beforehand.”

“Ah... I like the way you think,” I said. “And the way you look... and the way you smell...”

Sara laughed again as everyone else seemed to groan. We soon broke into two groups, with Sara and I bringing up the rear, our bodies locked together with our arms. I gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

“I wish we had more privacy right now,” she said.

“I like an audience,” I said.

She pretended to be offended. “
Mon dieu,
Baptiste... you’re a sick, sick man.”

“I’m sick, eh? That’s an excellent idea. I’ll bet we can find a place in Cochrane that has just the outfit.”

“I don’t want to know...”

I leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Sara the slutty nurse. That might be my new favourite.”

She pulled back and gave me a little shove. “You’re a perv. Besides... you just had your birthday. I think you blew your chance.”

“Your birthday’s coming up.”

She gave me her widest grin. “I already have a costume picked out for that.”

“Sexy accountant?”

“Nope... beekeeper. My biggest fantasy is layers of protective clothing to keep you off of me.”

“So... sexy beekeeper.”

“Very
unsexy
beekeeper.”

“I can still make it work. Remember, Sara... I reached puberty in an age when they still expected people to pay for porn.”

“Keep it up, Baptiste, and you’ll be magically transported back to the era of being a lonely virgin.”

I laughed. “At least being a virgin again will cut back on some of the itching between my thighs.”

Alanna and I never really had much sex. When you’re as busy as we always seemed to be, you tend to look at the person you’re shacked up with as some kind of adversary. If only she’d turned the dishwasher on, or remembered to move the wet clothes into the dryer... then maybe I wouldn’t be so goddamned stressed... and then maybe I’d want to have a little bit of midweek action.

On most days the house was a mess, and as douchey as it was I just didn’t have the energy to do anything about it, and by the time I was ready for bed I was really ready for bed and sex was the last thing on my mind. Well... sex with another person was the last thing on my mind. It’s funny how after a few years sex becomes just a variation on masturbation that’s often more effort than I felt like making. It was so tempting sometimes to just tell her I’m too anxious to sleep or to do anything else, so then I could go rub one off on the living room couch.

I remember the last time we had sex; it was the night before I left for up north, and we were so tired from packing that I think at first it felt more like a chore for both of us. But I started to kiss her neck and run my fingers along the line of her auburn hair, just above her right temple and the little divot from the frame of her glasses, and soon I was back to those days when we were first dating, when we were so horny for each other that we’d rush home and have sex on our lunch breaks, when things were so hot that I sometimes felt like my heart would explode and I’d die right then and there, young but especially happy.

So I kissed her some more and drew one finger down her cheek, and I listened to her breathe until I knew she was ready. I went down on her then, because I had the urge to do it and because she hadn’t asked me to, and I was there with my tongue and my fingers, hearing her moans and feeling her body tighten and contract. On some nights that’s enough to make her climax, and that’s just what happened that night. I moved my body over-top of hers and I entered her, and I looked her in the eyes and told her I loved her, and at that moment I meant it, and after a few minutes I finished... and then we laid together on the bed, both of us satisfied and for the moment, both of us happy with the other.

I think the sex with Alanna was better because of all those times she pissed me off. I think it was hotter because I spent half my time wishing she’d just leave me alone. I don’t think good sex is driven by love; I think it’s fueled by the kind of passion you get from occasionally hating the person closest to you.

I love Sara, but it’s not the same; she still seems too good to be true, so I know we need a little more time for reality to set in. In many ways she’s more sensual than Alanna, more willing to touch and be touched, as long as it’s in the right places.

Back when I was married, the idea of being with someone different and not knowing where to touch them was something I would have given anything to experience again. But when I’m with Sara I think of Alanna, of the way she loved feeling my lips on her neck, the way she loved the tracing of my fingers around the little ridge of her belly button.

One day I’ll probably start to be so accustomed to Sara’s body and bringing her pleasure that there will be nothing left that surprises me. On the one hand I hope that it helps me recapture some of what I had with Alanna, but I also worry that I’ll feel too guilty to enjoy it. It’s funny, but I’ve never felt like I’m cheating on Alanna with Sara. I think I’ll only start feeling that way once the sex really starts to pick up; one day it’ll be the best sex I’ve ever had, and that’s the day I’ll feel like a cheat.