After The Fires Went Out: Coyote (Book One of the Post-Apocalyptic Adventure Series) (82 page)

Sara came to my room tonight.

She didn’t say a word.

She climbed onto my bed and burrowed into my arms.

She kissed my left wrist.

I kissed her, gently, on her shoulder.

She craned her neck and kissed me on the lips.

“I love you,” I said.

She kissed me again.

I laid her down.

And I made love to her.

Today is Wednesday, January 30th.

Sara always knows when I’m homesick.

She knows a lot about me.

“You’re thinking about your family,” she’d said gently as we’d laid together, the day after Ant had died.

She turned over to face me, wrapping her arm around my side.

I kissed her lightly on the mouth and turned my head into my pillow. I was sure she could still see the tears on my cheek.

“I don’t think it’s gotten any better,” I said. “I thought it would slowly get better.”

Sara started drawing her fingers up and down my back. I could feel her breasts pressing against me. Lying beside her and feeling her softness and feeling her warmth, I knew that I shouldn’t have felt so numb.

It always comes and go, but that night the numbness clawed at my throat and made it hard for me to breathe.

“I know it’s not the same,” Sara said, “but it is starting to get better for me.”

I turned my head to look at her. “It isn’t the same.” I ran my hand along the side of her face, trying to show her that I wasn’t angry, that I was used to feeling that way. “Losing Cassy was like losing a limb. No... that’s not enough. It’s more like I lost everything else, and all that’s left is a couple of dismembered toes.”

I reached up and kissed her on her lips.

“I can’t drink a glass of water without remembering when Cassy used to fish out the ice cubes with her fingers, long after she was old enough to know better. I miss her all the fucking time, and it’s torn most of me away.”

“But there’s enough of you left to love me.” She didn’t sound unsure.

“I guess so. I do love you.”

“And I love you. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but maybe someday you’ll decide that you want to be with me all the way.”

“All the way? You’re lying naked in my bed. That’s pretty far along.”

She smiled. “You know what I mean. I’d like to start a family with you... if that’s what you want.”

“I’d like that,” I said. I didn’t know what else I could say.

“You’re just telling me what you think I want to hear. I like that you care so much about me. But you’re not ready to talk about this.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to talk about this.”

“That’s fine.” She kissed me a couple of times, finding her way down my left cheek. “I’ll be here.”

Back then I hadn’t really considered the possibility.

But now I think I might be ready someday. I’d love to try it all again.

My whole family died from cholera. I’m not a doctor, but I think that means they literally shat themselves to death.

Cholera makes me think of Sherlock Holmes for some reason, though I guess Sherlock should probably make me think of syphilis or something.

When things got bad my mother asked me to come home to Iroquois Falls. But I had two months left of practicum, and they’d said they’d keep me on for the duration if I wanted. So I stayed.

If I’d gone, I wouldn’t have been able to save them. I would have gotten to know firsthand what it’s like to die on the toilet.

I don’t feel guilty... there’s no survivor’s guilt on me. I’m sure if Eduard had been the one to escape the shitpocalypse, he’d be doing his best to eat pussy and take names. In honour of me, of course.

“I claim this tasty pink taco in memory of Antoine Lagace.”

Baptiste wears his guilt like a chastity belt. He’s afraid that if he starts living again, like really living, that he’s doing his wife and daughter some kind of disservice.

It doesn’t matter what you could have done or should have done... you can’t let it ruin your life.

Because ruining your life doesn’t do anything for anybody.

It just makes you less fun to be around.

We were pretty sure that Livingston had a concussion, but he seemed otherwise okay. If anyone could stand to lose some brain cells and somehow become more likeable, he’d be the guy.

It seemed a good two weeks too early to me, but today Fiona decided that she wanted to prep the spiles and the drill and the ATVs, and try her hand at sugaring off one of the maple trees. She invited Fisher Livingston first, and he said yes; I guess he likes the idea of someone wanting him around.

Sara and Gwyneth decided to go with them, and naturally Matt chose to tag along, too; it was a good idea for him to be there, and he took the Mossberg to keep them safe.

They also took a serious amount of liquor to stay warm; I had a feeling that they weren’t actually too concerned about whether or not the sap had started to run.

With all of them gone, Kayla and I were alone in the cottage, and for the first time since Sara had come home.

And she didn’t waste any time.

“I want you to come upstairs with me,” she said.

I was confused. “You do still hate me, right?”

“I don’t hate you, Baptiste. Come upstairs. Actually... give me five minutes, then come upstairs.”

It’s not like I didn’t know the right choice. No matter what you want to do, you know what you ought to be doing.

I watched the clock for the longest five minutes of my life.

Then I went upstairs.

I checked my room first, out of habit, but she wasn’t there.

Then I heard the shower.

I went back to my room and sat on the bed.

I stuck my right hand below the waist of my boxers.

I didn’t really want the wait, the anticipation... she didn’t need to get all spic and span for me.

The water stopped, and after a minute or so the door opened, and she started walking down the hallway.

She continued down the hallway, past my open door.

She was on her way to her room.

I got up and followed.

“One more minute,” she said.

“Come on...”

“Count it down, Baptiste.”

I managed to wait a full twenty seconds.

I found her lying on her bed with the covers thrown off onto the floor. She’d even pulled the bottom sheet off the mattress.

She was wearing a white t-shirt and nothing else. Then I recognized the shirt, ripped and dirty with the faded maple leaf. It was the shirt that Sara had been wearing in Livingston’s trunk.

The roll of silver duct tape was there, beside her vibrating egg, and so was a dirty bunch of cloth, lying on the bare mattress.

“You’re wearing her shirt,” I said.

“I know.”

“That’s a little fucked up.”

“Don’t ruin it. Just tape me up. Tape me up and have your way with me.”

“Have my way with you?”

“Shut... the fuck... up.”

I grabbed the rag. It was the same one from Livingston’s trunk. I stuffed it into Kayla’s mouth.

I wrapped the tape around her head, trying to match how Livingston had done it to Sara.

It felt wrong.

But Kayla wanted it so badly.

I rolled her onto her back. Her skin was freezing.

I pinned her wrists.

I thought I heard footsteps.

I stopped.

“Someone’s here,” I said.

Kayla just moaned.

I got up to close the bedroom door.

And then I saw Sara, standing in the hallway with a handheld in her hand and her mouth wide open.

She was looking at me, but then she looked at Kayla.

She dropped the handheld.

It hit the floor and broke into several pieces.

There was no longer a reason to close the door.

At first she’d just seemed angry, but not all that surprised, like she’d known it would just be a matter of time before I ended up with Kayla again.

Then she saw the duct tape wrapped around Kayla’s mouth.

And then she saw the t-shirt.

Her face changed. It wasn’t anger.

She began to sob.

“This is what you wanted? You wanted to force me?”

“It’s not like that.”

“You already had me...”

“Sara... I’m sorry...”

She turned and ran toward the stairs.

Kayla was muttering through her gag.

I pulled off the tape.

“Fucking fuck that hurts,” she said.

“Do you not get what just happened?”

“Relax. It’s fine.”

“What?”

“I’m willing to share, Baptiste. This is news to you?”

“I just broke her heart.”

“She’ll get over it. She loves you. And you love her.”

“I need to go after her.”

“No... you need to finish what you’ve started.”

“This isn’t funny, Kayla.”

“Neither is taping a girl up and not fucking her.”

I stuffed the wad of cloth back into her mouth. I rewrapped the tape around her head. Then I rolled her back onto her front and taped her wrists.

“Is that nice and tight? All done?”

She nodded.

“Good. Now I’m going after her.”

I stood up to leave.

She moaned.

I took another look at her.

She moaned again.

I climbed back onto the bed.

I picked up the vibrating egg and I finished what I’d started.