“Your place…”
“I don’t know… it might not be safe. Are we there?”
“We’re on Nelson Road,” Fisher said. “At your gate. Do you have the key?”
“Should be open… Matt opened them.”
“I already checked, Baptiste… it’s locked.”
“You check my pack?”
“I didn’t find your pack. You’re lucky I found you.”
“Then I don’t have the key.”
“Shoot… someone’s coming,” he said. “Some kind of military truck.”
“Then get us out of here, Livingston. It’s Detour Lake.”
I heard him switch gears and slam on the gas.
The car jerked backward quickly enough to throw me to the floor. I hit my head on a metal kit.
First aid.
“Fucking ouch,” I said.
“Sorry.”
“I knew it… you saved my ass so you could make me suffer.”
“Shoot…”
“What?”
“Another truck coming up the road.”
“Another deuce-and-a-half?”
“What? Like a military truck?”
“Yeah.”
“Looks like a pickup. Green. What do I do?”
“Hell if I know.”
“I knew I should have waited on giving you the morphine.”
He slammed on the brakes.
Luckily I had nowhere else to go. But my head did get knocked against the back of his chair.
“Better get out of the car,” I said. “Before they start shooting.”
“Why would getting out help?”
“Makes you easier to shoot… you’re going to want it to go quick.”
“That’s not funny.”
“You’re better off trying to laugh about it, Livingston.”
“Screw you, Baptiste.”
He got out of the car.
I couldn’t see anything.
“Please don’t shoot!” Livingston yelled. It wasn’t quite a whimper.
“Down on the ground! Hands on your head!”
It wasn’t Justin. Just some other angry guy with a gun.
“My name is Fisher Livingston. I am an indenture from the Mushkegowuk Nation. Shooting me would be considered an act of war by the Mushke―”
“Shut up, Livingston,” a woman’s voice said.
It was Kayla.
“I don’t think he’s a threat,” she said.
“If he’s an indenture, we need to take him back.”
“With all due respect, sir―”
“Sergeant.”
“He’s on our side of the Abitibi, so I’d need a written request from the Mushkegowuk Council before releasing him to you.”
“That’s a good plan, Kayla,” I said. “That’ll take a day or two.”
I heard her gasp. And then footsteps. The gate being unlocked.
She ran to the car and opened the door.
“Baptiste… oh my god, you found him… are you okay?”
“I’m alive… but Livingston drugged me… the bastard.”
“Morphine,” Livingston said. “And he’s lost a lot of blood.”
“You sent him to find me?” I asked.
“Matt said you told him not to,” Kayla said.
“Can you send these men away?” Livingston asked.
“We’re ordered to check each cottage on McCartney Lake,” the sergeant said.
“Please,” Kayla said, “go ahead. Our people are in the first cottage, right at the junction. And one on the line.”
“Why are you here?” I asked her. “You’re supposed to be on your way to Quebec.”
She smiled and gave me a kiss. “No one listens to you, Baptiste. Haven’t you figured that out?”
Kayla helped me out of Livingston’s ham-mobile once we reached the cottage. It wasn’t too bad as long as I didn’t try to use my left leg that much.
“I have something else,” Livingston said.
“Tell me it’s more morphine,” I said.
“You can’t be angry with me, okay? I had to do it like this.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
He walked over the trunk and opened it.
“Ugh,” he said. “I’m not sure if she’s sleeping, or…”
Kayla helped me over to the back of the car.
It was Sara.
She was lying in the trunk, her eyes closed. She had a large rag stuffed into her mouth and wrapped with duct tape. Her wrists were bound behind her with tape. Her ankles were bound as well.
The only thing she was wearing was a ripped and dirty white t-shirt with a faded Canadian flag dead center. She had nothing on below her waist.
Her skin was close to blue.
I pulled away from Kayla and leaned against the car.
“Get her out of there,” I said.
Kayla and Livingston lifted her from the trunk.
I wanted to take her, to carry her inside.
But I knew I couldn’t do it.
Kayla and Livingston brought her up onto the porch.
I hobbled behind, glad for the morphine but well aware that I was probably fucking my leg up that much more.
They brought her to the living room and laid her down on the couch. Kayla covered her half-naked body with a blanket.
I stumbled over and fell to my knees, leaning against the couch.
I put my hand on her cheek.
She was cold, but not that cold.
And I could feel the warmth of her breathing.
“What did you do to her?” I asked.
“I had to drug her. Didn’t know how much I needed. She had to look like she was close to death.”
“Fuck, Livingston… why?”
“There are five Mushkegowuk roadblocks between here and Kapuskasing. There’s only one between Kapuskasing and Timmins.”
“You took her to Timmins?”
“I forged two letters from the Council. One that told The Souls I was taking a runaway indenture back to Sudbury… that was for the first couple of checks. The other said I was bringing your beaten and violated stepsister from Sudbury up to you, so you could watch her die. After what you did to that roadblock on Highway 101… let’s just say they really liked that letter.”
“What if it hadn’t worked?” Kayla asked.
“She wanted to come home… she took the risk.”
“But why did you strip her naked?” I asked. “Why did you tie her up?”
“Because I’m an indenture. One indenture shows up with another indenture… it looks suspicious, like maybe we’re trying to run away together. But not if she looks like this.”
“Did she tell you to do this?” Kayla asked.
“She did,” he said. “She did.”
“If I find out you’re lying,” I said, “I’ll kill you.”
“I just saved your life. And probably hers.”
“And I’m grateful for that. But I’ll still kill you.”
He nodded.
“Where’s Matt?” I asked. “And Fiona?”
“Matt’s out on the line,” Kayla said. “Fiona and Gwyneth are out in the barn with the horses.”
“What line?”
“Ant’s stupid firebreak, remember? The one you told Matt to stop wasting his time on? He’s out looking for any sign that the fire crossed the highway and is heading towards us.”
“It’s still a stupid idea,” I said.
“I’m sure it is…” She bent down and gave me a kiss. “I’ll take care of Sara, Baptiste. You need to take care of yourself.”
There was an unevenness in her voice.
And tears in her eyes.
I struggled to get up.
I stood with most of my weight against the arm of the couch.
I took her hand.
I looked into her eyes. I wanted her to know that I still wanted her, that I still choose her. I wanted her to know that we hadn’t changed.
“Livingston can help you up to your room,” she said.
13