“Just shut up,” I told him. He was right about our chances. “I’m sorry, Lisa, but we need to conserve what we have. We have way more wood and propane than diesel, so if the plant takes a little longer we can manage.”
Lisa was staring at me, but I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. For some reason it’s impossible to know what Lisa is thinking until she opens her mouth or starts kicking your ass.
I waited a little longer.
“We’re going to need more help,” Lisa said. “I can’t dig this trench by myself.”
“I’m here,” Matt said.
“Like I said… I can’t do it by myself.”
“What about Graham?” I asked. “Where’s he? Out fluffing the goats?”
“Who gives a crap where he is?” she said. “He’s almost as useless as this idiot.”
“Hey,” Matt said.
“I’ll help,” I said. “I mean, I can’t every day… Graham and I are going into town tomorrow to find batteries for this thing… but I’ll do what I can.”
“I guess that’s the best we can do,” Lisa said.
“Uh… thanks.”
She nodded.
Sometimes I wonder what it is about Lisa that makes me trust her the most.
Sara disappeared just before dinner again, like she had on Sunday after Matt had brought Ant home. I knew she was hiding up in Lisa’s bedroom. She still likes to think she shares a room with Lisa whenever she doesn’t want to share a bed with me. When that happens I’m never sure if it’s because she’s angry with me or if it’s the only way she knows I’ll leave her alone.
That last time she’d ended up staying in there all night, not appearing again until after we’d finished breakfast. I didn’t want that to happen again.
I knocked on the door but she didn’t answer. I opened it slowly, trying to make my intrusion seem a little more polite.
She was lying on her old bed, the blankets pulled up to her shoulders.
“You just left,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I meant it. “I didn’t want to get carried away with all of it.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“We need to be strong.”
“Are you kidding me? Seriously?”
“What?”
“You need to support me, alright?”
I sat down on the bed beside her, running my hand through her half-curled hair. “I’m sorry… I should have stayed.”
“Damn right you should have stayed,” she said. “Christ… no one needs to see you acting like a goddamn robot. I know you’re hurting, Baptiste.”
I shook my head. I tried not to cry.
“It shouldn’t have happened,” I said. “I should’ve been there to keep him safe.”
“He was the one who chose not to be safe… that was Ant… not you.” She brought up her hand and squeezed my thigh. She’d forgotten who was supposed to be doing the comforting.
“Do you think we made the right choice?” I asked her.
“We took him in and gave him a family,” she said with a hint of a smile. “Ant was happy.”
“I don’t mean that… I mean by staying here. Maybe if we’d made the trip out over the summer we’d be down in Temiskaming or somewhere, and Ant would be out spray-painting stop signs and humping fire hydrants.”
“We made the right choice,” she said. “Staying here meant bringing in the Porters and the Tremblays, maybe saving their lives. As much as Justin pisses me off sometimes, I’m glad he’s here and that he’s on our side.”
“That doesn’t mean it was the right choice.”
“Bad things happen. And they’ll happen no matter what.” She sat up and leaned in against me. “At least Ant wasn’t alone when it happened.”
“He was with Matt.”
“Yeah, with Matt… his friend. And the rest of us are still here, Baptiste. And we’re doing okay.”
“For now…”
“No… we’re not doing that. No more doom and gloom…”
“We’re running out of fuel,” I said.
“We’ll talk to the Walkers. Or the Smiths… they must have some to share. They owe us for the extra eggs we’ve been sending them.”
They owed us for far more than that.
“That’s not how it works,” I said. “No one shares fuel.”
“We’ll find a way,” she said. Her voice didn’t waver as she said it. “You’ll figure it out, Baptiste. You always have and you always will.”
I smiled; I was tired of talking about it, of fishing for reinforcement. It’s not like I could just wave my hand and lose the guilt I feel about Ant… or about everything else.
“We’re lucky to have you,” she said.
“You’re just sweet-talking me…”
She pursed her lips. “Is it working?”
I nodded.
“You’re an easy man to please, Baptiste.”
“And you’re the perfect piece of tail to do it.”
She giggled a little as she leaned over and kissed me.
I kissed her back and wrapped my right hand around the back of her neck, drawing her closer to me. And then I kissed her neck, listening to the slow deepening of each breath.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you…” I kissed her neck some more.
She moaned and it shot right through me.
I made sure to move us to the right bedroom.
Today is Friday, December 7th.
The weather was good, so Graham and I went into Cochrane today in the old grain truck. We skipped the weekly meeting and we did our best to put whatever shit’s between us on hold.
Graham drove the truck and I was on lookout, both of us wearing as much protective gear as we have. If we know we’re crossing the river, we’ll start off with our riot suits; they’re light enough that it’s not that bad wearing them, except for a few hot weeks we had in July and August now that the sun’s back. And once we cross the West Gate, the one on the road bridge, we’ll strap our vests on over our suits and we’ll throw on the helmets and goggles. It’s a lot to wear, especially when we’re lifting and hauling, but there’s a big advantage to being some of the best equipped guys coming into Cochrane.
We reached the outskirts of town, passing by the industrial buildings along the highway as it runs along the tracks and into town.
“So… best place for batteries?” Graham asked. He was obviously eager to get started.
“I need to look for more pills first,” I said. “I want to check Lady Minto again… just to be sure.”
“You’re serious? That’s all the way across town.”
“I’m serious. If we leave it for last we’ll run out of time.”
Graham winced like I’d kicked him in the nuts. “You can’t just spring this on me, Baptiste. Plus… don’t you think we should focus on what’s best for the whole team?”
“Don’t tell me my job,” I said.
“That’s not your job, Baptiste. Your job is security, not supplies.”
“Well… when I die in six months I’ll be taking on a new job as weed fertilizer. That sure as hell won’t do you guys any good.”
Graham shook his head. “You have pills for now. We don’t have enough batteries.”
I laughed. “There are probably three hundred car batteries left in this town. We can pull those out once we’re done checking the hospital again.”
Graham started slowing down.
“We’re going to the hospital,” I said.
“There are a half dozen school buses over there,” Graham said, pointing toward a gravel lot on the south side of the highway. “Let’s yank those batteries at least… just to get started.”
“You can yank whatever you like, Graham. But I’m taking this truck up to Lady Minto with or without you.”
He turned to glare at me. I assume it was a glare; all I could see was his helmet.