After The Fires Went Out: Coyote (Book One of the Post-Apocalyptic Adventure Series) (41 page)

As we brought the cart up to the cottage, Sara and Lisa came out to greet us, neither one having bothered to put on a coat.

“What did you find out?” Sara asked.

“Not much,” I said, rushing to give my reply. “Everything’s gone. Looks like they bugged out.”

“Bugged out?” Lisa asked.

“They’ve left,” Graham said. “Didn’t leave much behind.”

Matt added nothing as we went inside. Fiona was bringing dinner out to the table, and we ate in silence for the most part. I hoped that the ladies would think the tension was only fatigue on our part.

When dinner was done, Graham tugged on my elbow as I rose from the table.

“Thanks for dinner, ladies,” he said. “You’ll help with the dishes, Baptiste?”

“I guess,” I said, trying to sound a little rankled.

We went into the kitchen and Matt followed. That was suspicious, I know, but it would have been worse for Matt to be left sitting at the table, craning his neck in the hope of eavesdropping while trying to act like nothing is wrong.

We put the stereo on and played
Music @ Work
, one of The Hip’s better albums for covering up a secret meeting. You don’t want to use
Road Apples
for something like that.

“So we’re not telling people?” Graham said in a low voice as he poured water from the jug into the canning pot.

“I don’t know yet,” I said. “It’s not something we should just blurt out over dinner.”

Graham took the pot out to sit atop the wood stove; we’d have some time before we could do any actual work. Usually at that point I'd get a little pissy waiting for the water to heat up, wishing that Ant would have had the chance to install a more efficient water heater; this time I didn't mind the delay.

“We shouldn’t tell them,” Matt said once Graham had come back. “What good will it do to scare the bejesus out of them?”

“We need to be honest with everyone,” Graham said.

“Let’s be honest with ourselves, here,” I said. “We all know how this will work. I’m going to tell Sara later tonight, and Graham, I’m pretty sure you’ll tell Lisa. And let’s assume that Kayla will find a way to extract the information from Matt through some kind of sucking and/or fucking motion...”

“Funny,” Matt said.

“So this really comes down to whether or not we’re going to tell the Porters or the Tremblays.”

“We shouldn’t tell them,” Graham said. “Not yet, anyway. It’s not like they can contribute anything that’s productive at this point. Justin’s hasn’t seemed exactly... stable, lately.”

“I agree,” I said. I left it there. “And let’s leave Fiona out of this, too.”

“Why bother? Who cares if she knows or not?”

“It’s important to me. Just don’t talk to her about it, and tell that to anyone else you’re blabbing to. She’s still just a kid.”

“I don’t think she’d like you calling her that,” Matt said.

“Doesn’t matter. Just leave it to me.”

Graham went to retrieve the water, and then we started in on the dishes.

Matt mostly stood and watched, using his dish towel as a tool for fidgeting.

“So what is our plan now?” Graham said. “Obviously we need to get the hell away from here.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “It’s not going to be any safer out there.”

“It can’t be more dangerous than this, Baptiste. There can’t be that many targets left on their list. And you’re the one they’re really after.”

“So we throw away a good defense in hopes that we can outrun these assholes?”

“Baptiste’s right,” Matt said. “We’re stronger here. Home ice advantage.”

“We’ll play things safer,” I said. “Everyone learns to use the guns. No one leaves the house without having someone with them who's armed and ready to shoot.”

“Not good enough,” Graham said. “I say we pack up whatever we can and we slip out at night. We could be halfway to Lake Temiskaming by morning.”

“We don’t know where these assholes are based right now, or how many there are, or what else could be waiting down the road for us. It’s too risky.”

“So you want us to stay here and wait to die.”

Graham’s attitude was starting to piss me off.

“We can defend ourselves,” I said. “They come for us, we’ll take them out. It’s that simple.”

“What if there are too many of them?” Graham said. “We have what, a dozen people who can shoot... maybe five or six who can actually hit anything? Assuming we have enough guns, which we don’t.”

“They’re not sure they can take us out. That’s probably why they haven't come for us yet. They know they can’t beat us.”

“You’re overconfident.”

“This place may not look like much but they’d need an army to take it from us. They know they’ll spill a lot of their own blood to get in here. So they’re stalling, and when they come for me it’ll be because they’ve gotten desperate. They’ll be hungry and tired and unsure of themselves, and we’ll get them.”

“There’s no way to be sure of that,” Graham said.

“Listen to me for once. I know what I’m talking about. You’re not the one who’s actually had to do this kind of thing before. This isn’t a game, Graham. You have no idea how any of this shit goes down in real life. So don’t start acting like you can even have an opinion when it comes to keeping us safe.”

Graham didn’t back down. “You’re gambling with the lives of every person in this house. I don’t know what you want out of all this, but I actually want to live through it. I’d like a chance to start a new life or something, you know, raise a family... and I’m not going to throw it all away because you want one last chance to relive your glory days.”

I dropped my dish towel and left the kitchen, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to stay another minute without punching him out.

Sara found me before I’d dressed to go outside, and by the time the two of us were out past the barn I’d told her everything, about the Girards, about Natalie and Tabitha, about Graham. She didn’t say she agreed or that she disagreed with anything I’d said. She just held my hand and listened.

As I talked I felt like I was a child again, back when I would get so upset about something that I could barely breathe and I couldn’t even talk, my whole body heaving as tears would run down my face.

And I realized I was crying, because I knew that everything was falling apart. We’d lost Ant and I'd killed Marc, and now we had two less people to face an enemy that would come for me eventually. That was assuming that we’d only stay two down, that we wouldn’t lose Graham, too, that he wouldn’t pack up and leave, taking Lisa with him. And maybe taking everyone else, too.

But then I found that I was crying because I missed my old life, where I got to be an asshole just for kicks, not because I was trying to keep people alive.

I don’t think I can protect this so-called family anymore; even if I’d been there in Toronto, crouched by the front door of our townhouse with a baseball bat, telling Alanna and Cassy to keep the noise down... even then I wouldn’t have been able to save my family from the chaos that would swallow them.

I’ve spent so much time blaming everyone else for being trapped away from home, blaming travel restrictions and fuel shortages, like those were the things what kept me from saving my daughter and my wife... but the truth is so much easier to understand: I just didn’t have it in me. I wasn’t the hero, or even a good father, and I was certainly never a good husband. I was just a fool who liked telling people what to do. And I was angry with Graham because he’d finally grown enough of a backbone to point out what a phony I’d become.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I said.

Sara gave me a hug and kissed my cheek. “Don’t believe your doubts,” she said. “You can’t trust yourself right now... you can’t listen to anything your mind is telling you. Listen to me instead.”

I didn’t interrupt.

“You are a good man,” she said. “You’ve saved the lives of over a dozen people. You led us to make this home together. It isn’t your fault that Ant is dead, and at least he lived his last year with his new family and not by himself. And Marc Tremblay's death was an accident, no matter what you think you did. And what happened to Zach Walker, to the Marchands and the Girards... there was nothing you could do. And the rest of us are still here, Baptiste. What do you think would have happened to us if you hadn’t been here?”

“You would have figured it out.”

“That’s not true. You know it’s not true. You’ve seen what the Walkers wanted me to sign. Ten years of service. And they wouldn’t even take Kayla because of her goddamn ex-boyfriend.”

“You never mentioned that --”

“I guess there was that stranded work crew near the airport, but they’d only take us girls, and only if we didn’t mind spending most of the time on our backs in trade.”

“Those idiots didn’t last long...”

“And I’m sure the Tremblays and the Porters would have tried their luck on the highway if we hadn’t have helped them.”

“Now that’s sad.”

“Yeah, yeah... but what about Fiona? If you hadn’t taken her on, where would she be? She was fourteen years old, Baptiste... no parents, no friends. She wouldn’t have had a chance.”

I shook my head.

“Don’t bother arguing with me,” she said. “I know you don’t agree with me right now. But all I want you to know is that I’ve always believed in you, and that doesn’t go away even when you’ve lost faith in yourself. You’re our best chance by far, Baptiste. I’d say that’s obvious to everyone but you, apparently.”

I knew she meant it.

I leaned in and gave her a kiss.

“We should get back,” she said.

By the time we’d come back to the cottage the dishes were done and everyone had gone about their evening routines. It was like nothing had been said.

Lisa glared at me, though, so I knew that Graham had already talked to her. Lisa doesn’t believe in hiding her feelings. That’s something I’ve learned to respect.

Neither of them said anything to me.

Matt and Kayla seemed to be avoiding me, too, while Fiona seemed oblivious to all of it as she sketched in her notebook.

It was all for the best. I was still upset, and I knew that the anger would come out either in tears or in blind rage. Crying in front of everyone was not something I was willing to do, and I couldn’t afford the other.

But at the same time I know that I need to make Graham understand. He needs to know that there’s no room for discussion when it comes to our safety.

It’s my responsibility... it’s my decision to make.

I went upstairs with Sara. The two of us laid together in bed, Sara with her reader and me with my tablet, writing an entry in my journal that I’m not sure how I should end.

At least I have Sara.

Having her beside me makes this bearable.

6