After The Fires Went Out: Coyote (Book One of the Post-Apocalyptic Adventure Series) (81 page)

Kayla never came back to my bedroom.

She took over Lisa’s room, not bothering to ask Sara if she wanted her old bed; Fiona moved back into the room she’d shared with Kayla, while Gwyneth took Kayla’s spot.

Sara slept on the couch for a couple days, partly because she was barely conscious for most of it, but also because I don’t think she knew where she belonged.

She’d been away for almost three weeks and everything had changed. I know she had no doubt in her mind as to who had been sharing my bed.

But last night she knocked on my door just after ten; I was on my tablet, looking at my personal reserve, my hand down the front of my boxers.

Luckily I remembered to pull my hand out before I answered.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“Of course. You’re always welcome here.”

I sat back down on my bed.

I’m sure she could see the bulge.

She walked inside but didn’t sit. She was fidgeting with her hands, gently wringing them together. “She’s not staying with you?”

“No.”

“Are you two...?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t.” What was I supposed to say? It’s not like you only ever love one person.

“I can’t do this if you’re going to hurt me. I need to know that you’re here... with me...”

“I’m here. With you, Sara. And that’s where I want to be.”

That was true. I wanted to be with her. And I wanted to be with Kayla, too.

“Okay,” she said.

I’d expected her to sit down beside me.

She didn’t.

“So... goodnight,” she said.

“You’re leaving?”

“For now... yeah...”

“Okay. Goodnight, Sara... I love you.”

“Okay.”

And that was it.

Today is Tuesday, January 29th.

Matt and I went down to New Post today.

We’d heard from Sergeant Mullen that the people had been relocated and that they didn’t have any intention of going back there, that for all intents and purposes the place was our problem to deal with.

To me that sounded like a prime scavenging opportunity. Say what you will about the patrols from the Mushkegowuk Nation, they certainly make it less likely that we’ll have any unwanted visitors at McCartney Lake. Well, aside from Stems’ soldiers themselves, but they’re usually too busy chatting up Kayla and Fiona to start being all menacing.

That left me willing to risk leaving Kayla with the Mossberg. I’d filled it with buckshot, in case she needs to hit something smaller than the wall of our barn. Livingston’s got a little mousegun, too, but there’s nothing intimidating about that.

We took the cart, since all the diesel we have for that deuce-and-a-half is what little’s left in the tank, and I doubt we’ll be making any trades with Detour Lake for some of their fuel. I let Matt drive; I’ve started running out of options.

Since we only have one set of gear left, I told Matt to wear it. If shit goes down, he’ll be the one who has to take my SIG and run toward the problem. I can’t run toward anything at the moment.

We found the gate wide open.

The houses were there, but there were no vehicles. We checked a few buildings and found a couple nice items in each: three-quarters-empty boxes of cereal here or the last few drops of peanut oil there. Good enough for us, at least.

We checked the band office, even though I didn’t expect there to be anything worth taking.

In Gerald Archibald’s cube, I found a laminate desk with a locked filing cabinet sitting underneath. I looked around for the key, but there was nothing.

It was possible that someone was messing with us, just locking things up after they’d cleaned them out.

“Shake it,” Matt said.

“You shake it.”

We did it together.

It made a happy little rattling noise.

“You can pick the lock?” Matt asked.

I didn’t feel like it. “Just bring me the crowbar.”

Once he had, I pulled the drawers open.

I pulled out three boxes of drugs.

All three were Laneradine.

“Gerald had a heart problem like yours?” Matt asked.

“These aren’t even open. He was hoarding them... waiting for me to die.”

“Joke’s on him. You’re still alive.”

“Yes, Matt. I know.”

I tossed the boxes into my canvas goody bag.

I’d be alive for a good while longer.

Once we’d finished gathering what supplies were left, we headed back toward the gate.

“Now Stems controls both bridges,” Matt said.

“He doesn’t need two,” I said.

And I knew Stems wasn’t stupid.

“Head up the rail bed,” I said.

Matt took us up the gravel trail, curving around to the Abitibi River.

The bridge had been destroyed. The piers demolished with charges.

“Better job than got done at Iroquois Falls,” I said.

“One less bridge to watch.”

“Yes, Matt... I know.”

He just laughed. I think he’s starting to like the way I treat him.

We were back to McCartney Lake before sunset, so a little too early for dinner.

“Let me off here,” I said as we reached the cottage.

“What about the horses?”

“You drove ‘em... you can stow them.”

He stopped the cart and I climbed out.

He continued on toward the barn.

I walked in hoping to get a chance to help Fiona with dinner. It’s definitely become a thing with me.

I saw Livingston on the floor.

There was blood.

Then I saw Justin Porter, sitting on the couch with his boots on the wicker coffee table, with Livingston’s little .380 lying next to his socked feet.

Sitting on the floor were all four girls, in a semicircle around the coffee table. They looked terrified, but they were okay.

I reached for my SIG.

“Put it on the floor,” Justin said.

“How ‘bout I just kill you?” I said. I pulled out the gun and pointed it at his head.

He didn’t reach for the .380. “Look under the coffee table.”

I saw one of Ant’s nail grenades. At least a hundred nails bundled together and ready to shred anything within its reach. And the fuse cord ran up to a plastic tip in Justin’s hand.

“It reminds me of that shit the rebels used in Burma,” he said. “I pull the ring wrapped around my finger and your girls won’t be looking so hot.”

“That coffee table won’t do much to shield you.”

“I have nowhere to go, Baptiste. Detour Lake wouldn’t take me without some way of paying my way in.”

“And now that you got so many of their guys killed...”

“Yeah... they’d probably just shoot me if I showed up there. Thanks in large part to Kayla’s fucking ex-boyfriend, Bren the Wonder-Shit.”

“So you’ve been hiding around here?”

“That new army of Stems isn’t very good at what they do. They didn’t even bother checking the crawlspace. But that’s not important right now, Baptiste. What’s important is that I’m going to ignite this blasting cap, and then there’s gonna be a whole lot of nails fucking up your living room.”

“So there’s no point in not shooting you?”

“My wife is dead. So are my children.”

“Yeah... I know that feel, bro.”

“You get to come home every night and you get to take your pick. You can fuck the curvy brunette, or the slutty blonde... now you even have one in redhead... and once you come up with the right occasion, you’ve even got little Fiona’s cherry to pop...”

“I’m not feeling less inclined to shoot you in the head.”

“So take your pick, Baptiste. Choose which one of your girls you’re going to cover from the blast. I know you won’t pick the redhead...”

“Take the redhead,” I said. “Take her and go.”

“You can’t let him do that,” Fiona said.

“Don’t worry, Fiona,” Justin said. “He won’t let me take her. And I don’t want her anyway. All I want to do is restore a little bit of balance in the universe. I swear... if there’s a god in this fucking reality, he’ll take this all away from you. Because you don’t deserve them, Baptiste. Yeah... I don’t, either... I get that now. But this isn’t about me.”

I could shoot him. One shot and he’d be dead. But his finger was on the pull-ring; that bullet was just as likely to start the fuse than not.

That would kill all four of them.

If I made the choice... I could shield one of my girls. If I was lucky enough...

I heard the door open.

Matt stepped inside. He was still in full gear, even his helmet.

“Sit down, Matt,” Justin said.

“Let’s just kill Baptiste,” Matt said. “We can take the girls. Two each... that’ll get us into Detour Lake...”

“Not gonna work, Matt.”

“Just pass me your gun and I’ll kill him myself.”

Matt stepped toward the coffee table.

“Back off, Matt,” I said.

He dived at the coffee table.

Justin pulled the ring and lit the fuse.

I took my shot. I sent a bullet into Justin’s forehead.

I started to move toward the coffee table. If I could reach her in time...

The nail grenade exploded under Matt’s chest; it sounded more like a pop than a boom.

I couldn’t see any nails.

“It didn’t go,” Kayla said.

I stopped to look.

“It didn’t ignite the explosives,” she said.

Matt rolled over onto his back. “What the heck just happened?” he asked.

“You didn’t get blown up,” I said.

“You could have died,” Fiona said.

“It would have been worth it,” Matt said.

I realized I was too proud of him to vomit.

I walked over to Justin.

He was dead. At long fucking last.

Sara had gone to check Livingston.

“He’s breathing,” she said.

“Then let’s get him to the couch,” Kayla said.

I grabbed Justin Porter by the feet and dragged him out through the front porch and left him lying next to the driveway.

I knew Stems would want his men to confirm it.