After The Fires Went Out: Coyote (Book One of the Post-Apocalyptic Adventure Series) (30 page)

Graham was standing by the road when we arrived. From what I could see, everyone else was still hard at work.

“What’s going on?” I asked him as Katie and I stepped out of the Walkers' van.

“You guys aren’t being honest with us,” Graham said, glaring at Katie.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Come on... we’re not idiots.” He looked over to me. “They’ve already gone through these cottages, cherry-picking the best supplies.”

“How can you tell?” I asked.

“They did a crap-poor job of hiding it. Every cabinet and cupboard I’ve seen has been ransacked... what’s left is obviously less valuable than whatever they’ve already taken.”

“That’s a pretty big accusation,” Katie said. “Even if stuff’s missing, how can you be so sure that we’re the ones who took it?”

I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t trust the Walkers, obviously, and certainly not Livingston. But Graham seemed to be making some pretty big assumptions.

“Can I talk to you for a second, Graham?” I asked.

“I’m going to go inside and look around,” Katie said.

Once she’d left, Graham grabbed me by the arm.

I’ve rarely seen him that angry.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I don’t have enough information, Graham.”

“So you can’t just trust me on this.”

“Come on, man... I know Livingston’s a shit, but I still don’t see how you can know for sure that they’re screwing us.”

“You
know
they are.”

I nodded. “But maybe it’s not going down how you think. And confronting them like this... I’m not sure it’s the right move. What did you say to Livingston?”

“I called him out on it. I told him that I could tell he was trying to put one over on us.”

“Dammit. You’ve put me in an awkward position here.”

“What’s awkward? You need to back me up.”

“I don’t think I can, Graham. Now isn’t the time for this.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nothing’s changed... we need to take what we can get here. Anything’s better than jack shit.”

“It’s not worth it. We can’t just sit here and take it up the rear for a few measly bags of rice.”

“It’s more than just a few bags of rice... there’s no way they managed to empty out everything of value from fifty-some cottages. Look... you need to drop it.”

“Come on, Baptiste.”

“Please... just drop it. You don’t need to play nice... just don’t be a dick about it.”

“No way... I’m not going to drop it. This is bullcrap and you know it.”

I grabbed him by both of his arms just below his shoulders. “You need to drop it, Graham. Trust me on this. Please.”

I could see that he wanted to keep arguing with me; I just held onto his arms for a moment, looking him right in the eye. I wasn’t trying to intimidate him; I know Graham better than that. I was trying to show him just how important it was for him to let it go.

He shook his head and sighed.

“Please,” I said again.

“I can see you don’t have my back on this. Too busy chasing another pair of tits.”

I didn’t say anything else. I just waited on him.

“Whatever,” he said. “Just don’t expect me to put any effort into making friends with these jerks.”

“I don’t expect any miracles. But seriously, Graham... thanks.”

“Just go back to the roadblock before Justin accidentally shoots himself.”

I nodded.

Katie came back outside just a few seconds later; I had a feeling she’d been listening in. That’s the way it is with the Walkers, I guess. They’ve got it bred into them.

Katie and I didn’t waste any time getting back to the camper. We found Justin and Sky outside, both of them leaning against our truck.

“Anything exciting happen?” I asked as I walked over to see them.

“We saw a bald eagle,” Justin said.

“That’s something.”

“So I guess it’s time to relieve you guys,” Katie said. She grimaced. “After I go to the ladies’ room, though.”

“I’ve got a few minutes of standing left in me,” Justin said. “Maybe enough for you to get those hands washed this time.”

She chuckled, and then she and Sky made their way into the camper. I was sure they’d be talking about us the second the door was closed.

“What happened?” Justin asked.

“Graham thinks they’re ripping us off... he thinks they’ve already taken out some of the best supplies.”

“What did Rihanna say about it? She’d have a better idea since she’s been in a few of those cottages before.”

“I didn’t get a chance to talk with her... but I don’t think it really matters if they did it or not. We can’t do anything about it either way. We just have to take what we can get.”

“So we’re their little bitches, eh?”

“I’m not happy about it either.”

“Well... fuck ’em.”

“Yes... fuck them we shall...”

There was something quite fetching about Katie...

“Shit, Baptiste. More pussy for you to chase. No wife around and you want to screw every bitch in the district.”

“Seriously, Justin? No wife? Do you remember anything about a goddamn apocalypse?”

“Speaking of fucking apocalypses... if you ever leave me with a goddamned indian again...”

“Is that some kind of joke?”

“What?”

“Take a look at me, Justin... what do I look like?”

“Come on...”

“If you want to be a goddamn bigot, just keep it to yourself, alright?”

“Shit... it’s not like --”

“Shut up,” I said. “There’s nothing you can say that’s going to make you look like less of a racist fuck right now.”

“Fuck you, Baptiste.”

“Yeah... fuck you, too. Now you don’t have to go into the trailer, but seriously, just get the hell out of my sight.”

That got me a nice middle finger.

He chose to head back to the trailer, and as he was going in Katie was coming out. She gave him a warm smile, and he nodded back.

“He looks pissed,” she said to me as she met me by the truck.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “He’s pissed at me.”

“That’s good... so what was going on with your friend Graham?”

“He doesn’t trust you.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Katie, but I don’t really trust you guys, either.”

“My father told me that you once shot out one of his tires.”

“He deserved it.”

“No, honestly... like, fuck your pissing matches. The only thing that stands between where we are right now and where we ought to be is like every man in the district and their tiny little penises. First it was just that garbage between you and Fisher Livingston... and now it seems to be you versus everyone else.”

“You seem to know me pretty well,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that. It’s not your fault... well, it’s not
all
your fault. It is what it is, I guess.”

“It’s a bad situation.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this. Why do you think my father asked for your guys’ help on this?”

“I assumed we were working up to a bromance.”

“It’s time to get things back on track. We need to work together.”

That sounded strange, considering the dump Dave Walker had taken all over the Supply Partnership. Maybe I was just pissed that he was the first to kick it when it was down.

I gave her a smile. “I’m willing to try,” I said.

She smiled back. “I believe you.” She laughed. “See? Now there’s one Walker who’s starting to trust you.”

“I want to trust you, too, Katie.”

“That’s good.”

“I just need you to tell me the truth.”

“The truth?”

“You know... did Livingston screw us over? Did he poach some of the supplies before we got here?”

She turned her head towards the camper. “There’s no right way for me to answer that.”

At least she wasn’t lying to me.

I dropped the subject right there, and we spent the rest of the day talking about anything else, from my stories about Toronto and the glamour of being a community safety consultant, to her descriptions of what things were like in Cochrane before I got here. It’s funny how little I know about the way things used to be up here.

I’ve never really talked about Cochrane with anyone, since I’ve always felt like it’s a first class ticket to a depressive episode. But Katie was different... she seemed detached as she talked. She didn’t seem the least bit emotional as she told me about her time waiting tables at the one and only fancy restaurant, or about how the first boy she ever kissed was the first man to be killed by marauders. It was like she was describing a movie to me, like it was all from a life that had happened to someone else.

By the time the other two trucks came rolling up behind us, I was pretty sure I’d made a friend. That sounds pretty trite, but I don’t make a lot of new ones these days.

Today is Wednesday, December 19th.

This year’s snow finally came, starting last night just after dinner.

It’s lasted all through the day today. By noon we were up to around twenty five centimeters, with no end in sight.

It’s always like pulling teeth to get Graham and Matt outside when it’s cold or snowing, so Kayla, Lisa and I did the chores, with Lisa giving me a quick lesson in milking the goats, and Kayla running off the names and laying habits of each hen; I’m pretty sure she was rounding up the egg count in an attempt to keep some of the stragglers from finding their way into Fiona’s stewing pot.

I went down to the Tremblays’ with Lisa to raise the Walkers on the UHF rig, and they made it clear that the snow would keep them away from Silver Queen for at least a day, since they’d have to make sure they had enough trucks to plow closer to home. I don’t see why they think that’s more important, but I knew we’d have trouble getting up there ourselves. We agreed to talk again tomorrow morning.

We had a few days like this last winter, so I already have a good idea of just how long we can put up with each other in a confined space. Last March saw a spring blizzard that kept us inside for two days straight and resulted in no less than three physical altercations; the fact that all three were between Kayla and Fiona didn’t ease the tension as much as you’d think.

This time around, Sara decided to use up the day in baking, which kept Fiona occupied as well. I sat in the kitchen with them for over an hour just after lunch, listening to their conversation and generally just enjoying the warmth of the oven and the smell of sugar and caramel.

But I knew I couldn’t sit around all day; snow means that our little island has become less safe. The Abitibi isn’t frozen yet, but soon it will be, but even before that we’ll need to start worrying about snowmobiles.

Snowmobiles.

Starting today.

Last winter there wasn’t much snow compared to most years, but there was still enough to make our original roadblock on Nelson Road (a wood fence with two rickety gates) pretty much useless. Anyone who had a snowmobile or a tracked ATV could come up on us from any direction.

And they did.

The first time was last December, before Ant had come along and long before the Porters or Tremblays, back when the seven of us were just getting used to working together.

Lisa and Graham were stringing up a makeshift extension on the fencing around the goats, since the snow was already banking high enough that any of the more enterprising animals would be able to find their way out.