After The Fires Went Out: Coyote (Book One of the Post-Apocalyptic Adventure Series) Read Free Page B

free meal over here’.”
    Justin laughed. “You’re kidding, right? They already know there’s a meal here.”
    “I doubt even a starving pack of coyotes would be dumb enough to take Carcass on.” I wouldn’t be dumb enough to mess with our Great Pyrenees, and I’m the one who feeds him.
    “I’m not talking about the chicken coop. I’m talking about Fiona. Or whoever else is dumb enough to wander off by themselves. That trail around the lake might as well be a buffet line.”
    “That’s a little overstated.”
    “You should close that trail off completely. That’s what I’d do.”
    “Yeah,” I said, “if you were in charge, eh?”
    “It’s just a suggestion.”
    “Yeah... noted.”
    “Don’t worry... I’ll take care of these damned coyotes.”
    “Just don’t bait them,” I said.
    He gave a nod that I knew meant nothing.
    We reached the steel gate on Nelson Road. I was tired and I’d had about enough of Justin. I was tempted to pretend I’d forgotten my key.
    “I’ve got it,” Justin said as he ran up to the lock.
    “Since when do you have a key?”
    “Matt and I cut some last time we were in Cochrane. They have one of those coin-operated jobs at the Home Hardware.”
    There was a reason I’d only wanted two copies of each key. Now I wouldn’t be able to keep track of who had what. Justin knows why I had it that way. He knows but he doesn’t care.
    He was making a statement, taking another shot at me.
    “You’ll still set off the alarm,” I said. “Unless those key-cutters can magically copy a dongle.”
    “I already have a dongle.”
    “What?”
    “Matt gave me Ant’s.”
    “That’s completely unacceptable.”
    And it was a fuck-up on my end.
    “If you don’t trust me, just say it. But don’t expect me to hand it back.”
    “Whatever,” I said. It wasn’t like I had a way to take it from him, short of shooting him in the face.
    We crossed through the gate and kept on our way. I knew the route; he’d drag my ass all the way to the Linden homestead at the end of Nelson Road. The Lindens had left with Fisher Livingston. So naturally, they’re good and dead.
    “There’s no electricity at the Home Hardware,” I said.
    “Don’t worry... we brought our own. I do know how to run an extension cable from my dashboard.” He grinned. “The beauty of owning an electric car is that you don’t worry so much about using up a little extra juice. Don’t you wish you had one, Baptiste?”
    Another shot.
    I tried to speed up, but I could feel that all I’d get for that was a cramp. I didn’t have any extra in me.
    I’d just have to maintain.
    “I got into another classic discussion with Marc Tremblay,” Justin said.
    This was going to be interesting. For friends, those two weren’t particularly friendly with each other.
    “Let me take a shot,” I said. “Transgendered priests?”
    “Burma.”
    “You didn’t kill him... did you?”
    Justin shook his head. “He said that the only Right-To-Protect in Burma was the right to protect the Mottama oil fields.”
    “He has a hard-on about oil.”
    “Yeah. Fucking French... they hate oil but they’ll gladly spend the proceeds.” He looked embarrassed for a moment. “You know what I mean... French Canadians... pea soup and shit.”
    “I get it. Don’t worry... I’m the good kind of French. Chocolate covered and dipped in Scotch.”
    Justin laughed. “I like that.”
    “He must’ve forgot you served in Burma,” I said.
    “No... he mentioned it. Told me it wasn’t even a real war.”
    I’m not sure Marc was that far off about Burma. But then again, people used to say that about Afghanistan, too, so I’m probably just being a dick.
    “He’s trolling you,” I said. “He wants to stir the shit.”
    “I know. But I couldn’t help it. I just kept arguing with him.”
    “That’s a stupid thing to do.”
    “Well, since I was only in Burma because I’d volunteered for rotation, it’s clear I’m not that