“That’s it,” I said. “That’s enough. You’re done here, Matt, alright? You’re no good to this crew… that’s for damned sure.”
I expected him to say something back, maybe some weak excuse, but Matt just stared at me with a confused look on his face.
“Just find something to entertain yourself,” I said. “We’ll head home when I’m done. Don’t be riding back on your own.”
“Sorry,” he said quietly.
He walked off the site and I lost track of him for the rest of the afternoon. It made the rest of my time there that much nicer. I think I even made some kind of contribution once I no longer had to babysit.
Once the crew had stopped for the day, I walked back toward our ATVs with Gerald Archibald, the head councilor. He’s not much younger than me, but with a full head of hair and a slight Cree accent.
“I guess you guys don’t need any more housing,” he said.
“Not enough baby making,” I said. “There are probably three more cottages that we could make use of if we needed to.”
“Probably won’t have those cottages staying livable for much longer. You guys aren’t doing any maintenance on them, eh?”
“We can’t afford to. It’s just not a priority for us.”
“I’m not arguing with that… you guys have a lot to do.”
“I’m sure you’re busy, too. We haven’t seen you in Cochrane lately.”
Gerald sighed. “We don’t go to Cochrane much anymore… not if we can avoid it. We actually had a close call on Friday… some retard with a rifle was shooting at everything that moves.”
That sounded familiar. “A rifle? I think we ran into the same idiot.”
“He actually took a shot at you, Baptiste? That takes a lot of balls.” He gave out a little whistle.
“I didn’t expect it… that’s for sure.” I didn’t want to tell him anything more.
“No doubt, eh? You guys are probably the only ones around here who don’t have to worry about being attacked.”
“We have to worry,” I said. “At least since Ant.”
“What do you mean? What happened to Ant?”
I was surprised that Gerald didn’t seem to know. I often forget just how separate the people of New Post are from the rest of us.
I guess the Walkers hadn’t bothered sharing the news with them.
“Ant was murdered just over a week ago,” I said. “The guys who did it called themselves The Mushkegowuk Spirit Animals. I’m not sure it was Stems.”
“I can assure you that the Mushkegowuk Nation isn’t involved in that.”
“I don’t know. Dave Walker says that no one’s gotten past their gate, so I don’t know what that means.”
Gerald shook his head. “Sorry to hear that, Baptiste. I guess that’s another reason to stick to this side of the Abitibi.”
“I guess… but we all still need supplies. Unless you know of someplace that’s better for scavenging? Iroquois Falls?”
“Bridge is down over there. Those idiots from Detour Lake dynamited it last month. I guess they don’t want anyone crossing the river down there.”
“Detour Lake is worrying me more and more,” I said.
“You and me both, buddy. They’ve been making up their own rules for far too long.”
“So where does that leave for scavenging for you guys?”
“That’s our big secret, Baptiste.”
“Oh, come on. You can trust me, right?” I tried to sound like I wasn’t all the serious, even though I really wanted to know the answer. Not just about where they get their supplies, but whether or not Gerald and his people actually feel like they can trust us.
He threw up his hands. “Keeping secrets means not telling anyone. We’re running low on food just like everybody else. But hey… you know us well enough to know that we wouldn’t hold back supplies from you if you really needed them. Heck… if we ever find those heart pills you need… Laneradine, right? If we ever found some of those you’d be the first guy we’d call.”
“I know,” I said, nodding. Of course I didn’t believe him, but there was no reason to tell him that.
I certainly don’t hold any of it against him; we all like to pretend we’ll look out for our neighbours and all that… but when things get tough, people close ranks. That’s what it takes to survive. And believe me, I’ll cut all ties with New Post at any point if it helps me keep my people safe.
I said goodbye to Gerald just as I found Matt waiting by his ATV.
“Ready to go?” he asked me, acting as if I wouldn’t still be angry with him.
I nodded and climbed onto my ATV. The two men guarding the chain-link gate rolled open both doors, and we waved to them as we drove through.
We were driving our quads too quickly to talk to each other, which was fine by me. Conversation with Matt is like being trapped in an elevator with a talkative moron. He has nothing to say, but damned if he’ll ever shut up.
We were just about up to the turnoff at Nelson Road when Matt stopped his quad dead. I slowed to check if he was alright; he had climbed off the ATV and removed his helmet.
He was trying to trap me into some kind of confrontation.
I turned around and drove over to him.
“Let’s keep going,” I yelled. “I have to take a piss.”
“We need to talk about this.”
“Fuck that… I’m going back.”
“Please, Baptiste… you owe me that much.”
That hooked me. I cut my engine.
“I really don’t need this bullshit from you,” I said.
“I don’t understand. What is your problem with me?”
“There’s no problem.”
“You never take supply runs with me in the truck.”
“You’re not going to be doing any more supply runs. You know that.”
That hit him hard, and I knew I’d been a little harsh.
I tried to soften my tone. “I shouldn’t have let you and Ant go without me. That’s my fault.”
“That’s not what this is about, Baptiste. You’ll ride the cart with Graham but never with me. Why?”
“You’re a terrible shot and you’re bad with horses.”
“Come on,” Matt said.
“I’m not kidding. You’re not an asset when it comes to scavenging. That might change someday… but that’s how it is right now.”
“Justin doesn’t agree with you.”
“Then you can ride with him. Why am I supposed to care?”
“But it’s more than that. You don’t really want to do anything with me. It’s like you wish I didn’t exist.”
I shook my head. “Do you really want to do this? Do you really want me to tell you what I think?”
Matt nodded. He reminded me of a child now, a little boy who probably wouldn’t even understand what I’m trying to say.
“You’re a screw-up,” I said. “You sit around and you make fun of me and Sara and everyone else, but when someone tries something on you…”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“You need to grow up, Matt. Seriously… that’s the best advice I can give you. Grow the fuck up.”
“You say that, but that’s not your problem with me. It’s not about maturity at all. Half of Ant’s jokes were about farting, but you didn’t have a problem with him.”
“Ant busted his ass. He only fucked around when the job was done… not before… not during… when it was done. You couldn’t even hammer in a few nails today without almost taking some woman’s arm off.”
“Then give me a chance.”
“I’ve given you a hundred chances. So far you’re 0-for-100.”
“And I guess Ant never messed up.”
“Goddammit, Matt. You know he messed up… he’s dead because of it. So tell me… if the guy who was way less of a screw-up than you are is buried out by the creek, what chance do you have?”
“That’s not fair.”