“Pretty good day,” I said. “I didn’t think we’d find this many batteries.”
“And a dead kid.”
I ignored that. “Do you think we have enough?”
“We can never have too many batteries.”
We were almost at the bridge when I saw a cloud of gravel dust coming up from Comel Road. I swung the shotgun toward it.
“A cargo van,” I said as it came into view.
“I see it.”
“Electric motor… could be the Walkers.”
“Could be.”
Graham kept driving us along at the same pace as I kept my eyes on the oncoming vehicle. It was one of those white cargo vans from China, the large ones that contractors use to carry things like power tools and a work table. There never were more than a handful of those electric vans around Cochrane, and I think the Walkers have the only one that’s left. The fact that they can still run it means they must have a decent power supply to rely on and a battery bank that’s bigger than what we’ve set up so far.
Maybe that’s what happened to the car batteries around town. While we’d been wasting time on setting up the Porters and the Tremblays, the Walkers had been building their operation for the future.
Probably a future that leaves us long behind.
“They’re a long way from home,” I said. “I wonder what they’re doing out here.”
“Does it matter?”
“Come on, Graham… don’t you think it’s strange?”
“Yeah… it’s strange.”
“Maybe they’re giving us a push… stealing supplies from our territory… to see if we’ll push back.”
“Forget it, Baptiste.”
“It’s some kind of test.”
“I don’t think this is about us… they’re not looking for some kind of fight.”
“Well either way… they’ve found it.” My pulse quickened and I could feel the surge of sling juice in my blood; it felt good to have somewhere to aim it.
Graham stopped the cart as the van approached. I kept the shotgun aimed on them; even if I trusted the Walkers, which I don’t, there’s always a chance their van was stolen. It’s crazy but I almost hoped it was; after all that’s happened, Ant and poor Pauline and now that little boy, I wanted to fuck someone up. I’d be well within my rights to shoot some gun-toting, van-stealing marauder in the middle of a firefight, but I’m sure Sara would be pretty pissed if I brought back a couple of Walker heads to mount on the wall. Don’t get me wrong… Sara hates the Walkers for how they treated her — and Matt and Kayla, and especially Lisa — but she’s still too nice to consider the vengeance she ought to lay on them.
The van slowed as it neared, stopping about twenty meters away. Our team of horses was too experienced to spook but I appreciated that they’d given us a little space. Not that it made up for them being here.
I put the shotgun down where I’d still be able to reach it without any trouble. We both still had our helmets and vests on, and I kept my right hand near my pistol.
Two men came out from their truck.
The first was Dave Walker, tall, slim, forties or fifties and almost as bald as I am, armed with a hunting rifle slung around his shoulder.
The other man was someone I never thought I’d see again, a truly miserable piece of work, with a soft buttery babyface and coarse white hair.
“Livingston,” Graham said. “I don’t believe it.”
Graham sounded more shocked than angry, and I guess to him there isn’t as much of a reason for wanting to put a hole through Fisher Livingston’s chest.
“That worthless sack,” I said, wanting more than anything to pick up the shotgun and unload both barrels on him.
I have a reason.
“Hey there, boys,” Walker called out as they neared the cart. “I heard about Antoine… I’m really sorry.”
“What the hell are you doing out here?” I asked. “And with that asshole, no less?”
“Nice to see you too, Baptiste,” Livingston said.
“Go fuck yourself.”
Walker sighed; he looked pretty butthurt by how little his supposed sympathy had meant to me. “We had business at New Post,” he said. “Not that it’s any of your concern.”
“We’re all supposed to be working together, Walker,” I said, “or did you forget?”
“Yeah… I guess I forgot. Maybe if you guys weren’t hoarding supplies.”
“That’s quite the accusation.” He was right, of course, since everyone hoards, but that didn’t make a difference to how I was feeling. “If you’ve got a problem with us, Walker, bring it up at the meeting on Wednesday.”
“Look… I don’t want to argue, Baptiste. I know we’re all a little edgy right now. We’ve all been feeling the pinch with supplies running out, and now with what happened to Antoine… but don’t worry… I’ve got some of my best guys out there looking for Stems and his Spirit Animals.”
“Out there looking for him? If he’s really back you can just head up to Clute and I’m sure he’ll find you.”
“That’s not where they hit the Girards,” Walker said. “They ran into them on 11 South and were almost killed.”
“Not everyone with a gun is Ryan Stems.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dave Walker really is an idiot. I’d have to explain it to him.
“A bunch of kids throw block the Trans-Canada with paintball rifles, and all of the sudden Stems and his men are in five places at once. Come on… I hope to hell you morons aren’t in charge of anything.”
“Watch it,” Walker said.
“No, seriously… I think maybe I’ll get myself a bike helmet and a BB gun and I’ll stand out on Highway 11. And then you can come by and shit your pants for me. And then I won’t have to keep telling you to stay the fuck out of our territory.”
“Your territory?”
“If Stems has slipped over the Driftwood Bridge again he’s working up by Clute, just like before and exactly where he came after my guys.”
“He didn’t slip by us,” Walker said. “We know how to guard a gate, Baptiste. We do a better job than you, by the way.”
“Try to cross the Abitibi and see what I do to you, Walker.”
“Okay,” Graham said. “Everyone guards their gates.”
“Clute’s where you ought to be looking,” I said. “You know, if your guys are actually looking for him and not hiding in ditches pissing themselves.”
“Of course they’re looking for him,” Livingston said. “Somebody has to deal with a threat like Ryan Stems. I know I wouldn’t want to be responsible for letting him get away.”
I couldn’t let that slip by. “Fuck you, Livingston. Seriously. The last thing I need is for you to mouth off to me about responsibility.”
“Baptiste ―” Graham said.
I shot him a glance and he got the message.
“Be reasonable, Baptiste,” Livingston said. “We’ve all made mistakes, alright?” He shook his head. “I don’t expect you to like me, but you need to at least hear us out.”
“Hear you out? You guys didn’t stop by to talk to us. We caught you scurrying around in our backyard like a couple of rats.”
“I thought you said we were all working together,” Livingston said. “We have every right to be here. And if we do stumble on anything we’ll add it to our supply list.”
“So now you have a supply list, Livingston?”
“Livingston works with us,” Walker said. “He’s in charge of our supplies.”
“Bad idea,” I said. “You know what happened the last time Livingston was put in charge of something.”
“Yeah, okay,” Livingston said. “I know I messed up. Goes with the job, doesn’t it? You don’t need to keep shitting on me about it.”
“If it was up to me you’d be hanging from a fucking jack pine. You’re a goddamn mass murderer, Livingston.”
“That’s not fair at all. You know that’s not fair.”