After The Fires Went Out: Coyote (Book One of the Post-Apocalyptic Adventure Series) (61 page)

I drove the cart while Kayla sat beside me; she was in the spotter’s seat, but she seemed too nervous to look at anything aside from her feet.

I’d made sure everyone back at McCartney Lake was on high alert; New Post would be expecting a visit from me, so there was always the chance that they’d see it as an opportunity to hit us from the rear. They’d been up the deer trails before; what was stopping them from doing it again?

I’d never thought I’d have to consider the possibility that our neighbours might launch a sneak attack. But things were changing so quickly that I knew I couldn’t make too many assumptions.

Was I making a mistake? Would they actually shoot Kayla even though she’s almost the farthest thing possible from a threat?

I stopped the cart just out of range of the gate at New Post. I was in full gear, while Kayla only had a vest under her robin’s egg blue jacket, and her pink toque instead of a helmet.

“You should take off the toque,” I said.

She pulled it off, and her blond hair tumbled out. “It’s windy,” she said.

“I know... but this way they’ll know you’re not Lisa, and they should be pretty damned sure you’re not me.”

“I know this was my idea, but I have to admit... I’m pretty fucking terrified.”

“You’ll do fine. Just remember that you’re too pretty to shoot.”

“Graham always says the same thing about you.”

She climbed down from the cart and made her way towards the guards at the gate. There were four of them now instead of two; I took out my binoculars to see all but one take cover behind a parked green pickup.

“Hold your arms out, Kayla,” I said. “Let them see that you’re unarmed.”

She spread out her hands as she walked. She was moving a little quickly, but I worried that telling her to slow down would just add to her anxiety.

I kept my shotgun low; I knew that I’d have no hope of saving her if they decided to shoot. I’d be sure to kill every last one of them for it, but that wouldn’t do much for Kayla after the fact.

I’d wanted to give her a handheld, set to broadcast every noise, but she’d made it clear that the last thing she needed was a strange bulge coming from the side of her coat.

The guard who hadn’t taken cover behind the truck started toward her, his rifle pointed down at the ground. I could see through the binoculars that it was Sky; I felt like that was a good thing.

Kayla started talking, though I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Sky responded, but he did not smile. Kayla kept going, gesturing with her hands as she started to argue with him. Sky seemed calm enough, and after a couple of minutes he shook his head, and then he turned to return to the other men at the gate.

Kayla looked back at me; I could see that she was upset.

I wanted to head towards her, but I stayed where I was.

Slowly she started back toward the cart.

I watched as Sky went back through the gate and made a call on his handheld. The other guards came out from their hiding place behind the truck, but they still kept their eyes on me and the cart.

I waited for Kayla to reach me, wanting to hope for the best but knowing full well that the news wasn’t good.

“Is she okay?” I asked as Kayla came close.

“Apparently,” she said. “But they won’t let her go.”

“What do you mean? They’re just going to keep her?”

“They say they don’t trust us... they think we’re planning to attack.”

“That’s exactly what they’re forcing us to do. Did you tell them that this is unacceptable?”

“I did.”

“Did you tell them they have no right to keep her?”

“I did.”

“Goddammit... what the fuck are we supposed to do now?” I knew that I was crying; I hoped that she couldn’t tell.

She climbed onto the cart and wrapped her arms around me. “Don’t worry, Baptiste... we’ll figure this out.”

She reached out and wrapped her arm around my neck.

“Don’t cry,” she said.

“Don’t watch.”

She started to laugh. “Sorry... I know I shouldn’t be laughing. We’ll get her back.”

“I know we will,” I said, not that I really knew anything. “I just worry about how she’s doing.”

“They won’t hurt her.”

I just nodded and hugged her back.

I confronted Matt about the armour. He’d just come back from flirting with Fiona, and he had that stupid grin on his face.

“I know you gave a key to Justin,” I said.

“For the gate?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You let him into the chest and he took my armour to use on New Post. I know it was you.”

“Maybe it was Lisa.”

“Don’t even bother trying, Matt. This is your fault, you stupid piece of shit. Your fault that Sara’s gone... your fault that we might end up going to war with those people.”

“I didn’t give him my key.”

“It was never your key to give.”

“I didn’t give him anything.”

“You gave him your key. Don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t have to stand around here and be accused of something I didn’t do.”

I shoved him against the wall of the living room, almost knocking down that date sign from the bank. Today is... the day I finally put two bullets in Matt’s tiny little brain.

I wished I could.

“You like Fiona,” I said. “I know you do.”

“Yes... I think she’s great.”

“Well you may have just killed her, Matt. Doing whatever you want without thinking or asking anyone else if it even makes sense... you may have just killed the girl you were hoping to see naked. It’s your fault, Matt. It’s all you, buddy. All you.”

“You can think whatever you want about me... I don’t care. I’m doing my best to protect the people I care about.”

“By starting a war?”

“By standing up for us. They’re just waiting for a chance to get us, Baptiste. I know that. Justin knows that. You’re the only one who doesn’t.”

“All I know, Matt, is that I don’t want to see you again tonight. So find a place to be that isn’t here.”

“Whatever,” he said. He shook his head and walked out to the porch.

I’m sure he was hoping he’d get to stay with Fiona.

I knew he’d end up at the Porters.

I hope he decides to stay there for a while.

Today is Thursday, January 10th.

It’s been three days of nothing.

We’ve sent five messages to New Post. Those messages have gone ignored.

Kayla wants to head back to the gate and talk to them.

I know that won’t work.

Assuming Gerald Archibald didn’t bleed to death, I’m sure he’s convinced himself that Sara Vachon is his best leverage to keep me from taking him out.

There haven’t been any attempts to steal our supplies... not yet. But I know they’ll be back. And when we catch them, they’ll try to wave Sara’s life in my face.

They’ll keep her for as long as I live. Maybe longer.

They won’t give her back.

The only thing we can do is take her back.

One of the side effects of living in such a small world is that it’s pretty hard to sneak around. This is why we don’t have things like surprise birthday parties, and why everyone seems to know exactly who’s sleeping with who; I learned that last one the hard way.

When I decided to start up an old fashioned conspiracy, I quickly realized that finding a place to meet might suck up most of my energy.

I could have gotten Lisa to distract Graham, but I wanted her opinion. So I had to get creative and ask Rihanna for help. She had no problem giving us a hand, and she came up with a way to keep Graham busy for a few hours; it’s not a big secret that Graham can’t say no when you ask him for a favour.

So Graham was over at the Porters, giving Rihanna some advice on setting up a miniature greenhouse, and we all met up in the barn to talk, all of us meaning anyone who wasn’t Fiona or Gwyneth.

Justin Porter was there as well, his left ankle sprained and his face swollen, and Alain Tremblay came too, showing an aggressive side that reminded me more of his brother.

We didn’t invite the Marchands; we still didn’t know them well enough.

But I did let Matt be there. I needed help, and I could go back to hating him tomorrow.

“If we do this,” I said, “there’s really no way to smooth things over again. We’ll basically be at war with New Post and possibly the Walkers. And Ryan Stems.”

“Big loss,” Justin said.

“This will go better if you don’t talk,” Lisa said.

That seemed to shut him up.

“The way I see things,” I said, “there are two ways to do this. We can go in with just three or four of us, and keep some people back at home keeping watch with Graham and the Marchands. Or we can take a chance and go all in.”

“If we all go,” Lisa said, “will we all go in together?”

“I was thinking we’d have two groups. Three coming in from the front, while the other three sneak in off the river. They’ll bring their people out to the gate, thinning things out for my team.”

“Your team,” Alain said. “And who leads the other?”

“Justin leads the other,” I said.

“With a sprained ankle?”

“Me as a gimp is vastly superior to you at your best,” Justin said. “So we just want to tie them down at the gate?”

“You got it. Make a lot of noise then back off a little. Don’t lose sight of the fact that you’re a decoy; don’t try to take them out. But when you start backing off, don’t let them think it’s a rout... just keep it orderly so they think twice about chasing after you.”

“And what if they do chase after us?”

“You’ll have the pickup truck we got from New Post,” I said. “That’s assuming the thing is roadworthy after Lisa put those nice holes in it. Take the truck and turn onto Birchill Road. Do
not
lead them back to McCartney Lake.”

“And you’re putting me in here somewhere?” Kayla asked.

“Have you ever even fired a gun?” Justin asked.

“I have.”

I’m not sure I believed her based on what I’d seen. “You’re extra padding,” I said. “You, Justin and Matt make three. I’m really only expecting Justin to do the actual shooting. I’m not even sure we have enough guns.”

“I can shoot,” Matt said.

“I know... but Justin might actually hit the things he aims for.”