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After The Fires Went Out: Veneration (Book Three of the Unconventional Post-Apocalyptic Series): After The Fires Went Out, #3
After The Fires Went Out: Veneration (Book Three of the Unconventional Post-Apocalyptic Series): After The Fires Went Out, #3
After The Fires Went Out: Veneration (Book Three of the Unconventional Post-Apocalyptic Series): After The Fires Went Out, #3
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After The Fires Went Out: Veneration (Book Three of the Unconventional Post-Apocalyptic Series): After The Fires Went Out, #3

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

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About this ebook

Rebuilding a world. Rebuilding a family. And hoping that -- for once -- he won't screw it all up.

Baptiste has become a hero, but only to people who don't know him very well. Pushing his way south, as an emissary of the new confederation and as a man who wants to regain his family, Baptiste finds he may have more to fear from new friends than from old enemies.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherRegan Wolfrom
Release dateMar 13, 2014
ISBN9781927903056
After The Fires Went Out: Veneration (Book Three of the Unconventional Post-Apocalyptic Series): After The Fires Went Out, #3

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Rating: 2.884615353846154 out of 5 stars
3/5

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  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    I had really thought that I would enjoy this book. I found it very hard to keep reading, it failed to keep my interest. I also found that it was very forgettable. I felt that I had to endure long drawn out and dry descriptions.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    This was one of the longer books I've read but my disappointment was the fact that I was thrown in the middle of the story. The Author eluded to previous events in the past but never went on to tell about them. The book was well-written but I really wanted to know more about how this all started and how these people got together. I feel he spent too much time on one character. All the characters are interesting but you really don't know anything about them.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I was given this book in exchange for an honest review.I enjoyed this book. I really enjoyed how the writer stayed away from the zombie post-apocalyptic invasion storyline. The storyline that was created could be very plausible. A group coming together in the insane time that follows an apocalyptic demise. I look forward to reading more from this author.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    I normally love apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic fiction, but I could not even finish this one. While it is technically well-written (no editing errors or things of that sort), it was boring, boring, boring! I will definitely not be reading the rest of the series.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    I had a strange reaction to this book, and as such, this will be a strange review. I liked it, but disliked pretty much everyone in it - not that that should be the deciding factor, but it is a rarity for me. Baptiste is one strange duck (if I wasn't reading his journal entries, I would not have pegged him for survival as he is a singularly poor judge of character and should have a trail of newborns and toddlers in his wake), Sara is oddly motivated (and frankly, a punching bag), Fiona is deified, and Lisa and Graham (probably the two I'd want in my post-apocalyptic corner) blindly defer to Baptiste's mediocre judgement until it looks like suicide to continue. Ant, who is dead before the opening pages, is by far the character with the most genuine voice and someone I wish we could have gotten to know other than from his posthumous journal excerpts. Perhaps it is a post-apocalyptic plot device - a lot happens and yet nothing happens - which leaves the reader in limbo, but also only somewhat fulfilled. Regardless, I did enjoy reading ATFWO:Coyote and look forward to the next installment. Thumbs up for pop culture references (greats for signaling the time-stop of the apocalypse) and geography of remote Canadian wilderness.

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After The Fires Went Out - Regan Wolfrom

After The Fires Went Out: Veneration - Book Three

Copyright © 2014 by Regan Wolfrom

Book Cover Design by Christine Ko

Artwork by Elena Naylor (ladyelenanaylor.deviantart.com)

- -

Dedication

To my dogs, because they've always been working against me. Because dogs would rather you failed at everything so you're home more often.

- - -

PROLOGUE

- - -

Alanna

We got married in Renfrew, Ontario, where Alanna’s family is from. It was a compromise we worked out; she got Renfrew and I got the Catholic Mass.

Her United Church parents weren’t pleased about that last part, but I think they were just glad I wasn’t a drunk like the last guy.

We lived in Petawawa for the first few years, until I left the Forces and we moved to Toronto, or Markham, to start.

We were happy for a while.

And then it kind of went away.

I think the reason marriage is so exotic to younger people these days is because they’ve learned what I hadn’t learned, before I walked into St. Francis Xavier with a kilt and a naive smile. They’ve learned that marriage is too hard, that it’s more work than most of us want to put in. Chances are you’ll get married and you’ll be unhappy. But… you’ll think you’re the exception, when you stand up there and see her coming up the aisle. You’ll think you’re so much smarter than everyone else.

But marriage isn’t about being smart.

Again, it’s about the hard work.

And Alanna and I weren’t up to the task.

But we stayed married, somehow, up until she got pregnant with Cassy. And after that it just seemed easier, while still being the hardest fucking thing we could ever imagine.

But I still loved my wife, even when I hated her guts.

And I miss her sometimes, but not as much as you’d think.

Not like I miss Cassy.

Not even like I miss Sara.

But that’s what marriage is, right? Five percent amazing and the rest just a long slog.

And by the time you decide if that five percent is worth all the crap… it’s already too late.

Yep… I’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

-

From Ant’s Journal, two months before The Fires, when we were still working to hold Cochrane together:

We finished blocking off the Green Zone today, Dénis and I moving two more schoolbuses onto Railway Street, where it bends around the south side of Commando Lake.

One day I’m going to fuck a girl in one of those buses. I’ve wanted to do that since… well, since before I even really knew what girls were even for.

With the Green Zone all greened up, I went back to the OPP detachment, where Fisher and Baptiste were supposed to be packing things for the move inside the safe area.

Instead they were in the storeroom arguing again, and again about the boundaries; Fisher wants to extend the Green Zone all the way up to 7th, netting us two dozen more houses. Baptiste fucking lost it, saying that it was his decision, that he’s the one who’s in charge of security.

I’m starting to wonder if there’s anyone in charge of shooting that guy with a tranquilizer dart...

I get where Baptiste is coming from, that we’re already overstretched as it is, that the rabid pack of trees along 7th Street is too easy to hide in... but he doesn’t have to be such an idiot about it. He gets huffy, and Fisher gets defensive, and then some attractive idiot like me has to get in there, get them to stop spitting and scratching and start playing nice.

And today... my god... I had a fucking hairache from the amount of half-skunky beer Dénis and I finished off last night... shit was about to go bad, right? So when those big babies started arguing, I managed to lose my shit, too.

Shut up, I told them. Quit arguing in front of the children.

What children? Fisher asked.

Innocents like me, asshole. You guys are supposed to be acting like leaders. Or have you forgotten?

It’s my call, Baptiste said. And I made it a week ago now.

And I’m advising you, Fisher said. Letting you know that you’re making an incredibly wrong-headed mistake.

You’re both being wrong-fucking-headed, I said. You’re wasting time and energy. Let’s just do what Baptiste decided, and if he’s wrong, we’ll figure out who needs to spank him later.

I don’t need your help on this, Antoine, Baptiste said. He still had a seething look in his eyes... maybe even seethier, if that’s a thing. You can’t just keep dropping by to coax Livingston into agreeing with me.

No one’s coaxing me to do anything, Fisher said.

Why are there still people arguing? I asked.

Why are you still here? Baptiste said. Don’t you have work to do?

Work’s done. I was going to help you guys get your shit together. I guess I can go do pretty much anything else…

I don’t think I can work with this guy, Ant, Fisher said. I really don’t.

Now come on, buttercup, Baptiste said. Don’t be like that. You just need to get used to being wrong. I’m surprised you aren’t used to it yet, to be honest...

Fisher stormed out of the storeroom. Classic Fisher.

Baptiste smirked. Classic Baptiste.

Why do you do that? I asked him.

What?

You keep wanting to upset him. You keep wanting to fight him. All the time.

He’s dangerous, Antoine. You know that.

Every one of us can be dangerous, if we get out of hand. Including you, Baptiste. When you start believing the crap you try to sell us.

I’m the only one here who knows what needs to be done.

That’s a crock of shit. You don’t know any better than he does.

He didn’t lose his family. He doesn’t know how bad it can get. How bad it will get. Fisher Livingston still thinks good people only do good things.

And what do you think?

You been to Toronto, Antoine?

Yeah. To boo the Leafs, like any true Canadian.

I lived in Cabbagetown. You know where that is?

I think so. Only, not really.

Just north of Regent Park. Do you know what happened in Regent Park last Halloween?

Regent Park Massacre.

I lived just north of Regent Park.

"But not in Regent Park..."

That’s right. But the guys who took over Regent Park, who set up those barricades, just like the ones you were putting up today... they didn’t attack people in Regent Park.

I knew right then what he was going to tell me... and I really wished I’d followed Fisher out of that storeroom…

I don’t like feeling feelings and shit.

They started attacking people in Cabbagetown, he said. Pulling people out of their homes, shooting the men, raping the women...

Your family...

They didn’t get that far north. I saw the news, the last videos sent out before Toronto went offline.

I saw it, too.

Pitched battle along Winchester Steet, gunmen holed up in a private school, police long gone...

So they fought them off, I said.

Someone did. Someone from Cabbagetown, I guess. I still don’t know who… or how. But two months later I found out what had happened next. I saw those street photos from the European sats... my house was right in the middle of a no man’s land. The whole neighbourhood was destroyed. Over two hundred years of history in that place.

That doesn’t mean --

I don’t know. If I knew… they wouldn’t have left that house willingly. They would have been there… I told them to stay put...

Well, Baptiste… that’s lame. You’re being lame.

He was crying.

I had not idea what I should be doing.

I gave him a hug.

I should have been there, he said.

Don’t start thinking like that. There’s no point. You don’t even know what happened.

No... they’re gone. I know that much, don’t I?

It didn’t make any sense to me.

I didn’t say it, because I didn’t want to lose most of my teeth, but I don’t think his family is dead.

People don’t just die like flies. Three of four or, I don’t know, six million people... they don’t just lay down and die. They make a run for it. They adapt. They live their dream of fucking girls with poor judgment in the back row of school buses.

You never went back to find them, I said.

Now who’s being an asshole... of course I didn’t go back.

Why not?

That’s really none of your business, he said, in a tone that showed some conviction on his part, and again, that Baptiste-y seething that gets people’s teeth knocked out.

So I didn’t push it.

And I didn’t bring it up again as I took Fisher’s place, packing up the flashlights and radios.

I could tell Baptiste didn’t feel much like talking.

- - -

1

- - -

From June Sixth of Last Year:

Hey Dad,

The sun’s poking through again. Not just the sun, but the blue sky. I wonder if you’re getting any blue up in Cochrane… or maybe you guys have had blue sky for six months and we’re just a bunch of morons for staying down here in the dark.

I don’t think we’ll try any farming or anything, or maybe we’ll set up a little garden inside the freight yard, but nothing too crazy. We have a few people who know about growing crops, so it’s not like we couldn’t work toward it, but Harrison doesn’t think it’s safe outside the fences.

Not yet.

You really would hate him. Well, not really, but you’d want to hate him. But people don’t hate Harrison, because he’s a good person, and there’s no way around that.

It’s weird to think that Harrison saved my life.

It’s weird and bad, actually, since every time I’m mad at him my idiot brain reminds me that he’s the one who got Mom and me out of Cabbagetown. Like I want to yell at him for leaving his socks on the floor, but oops… he saved my life.

A hero, and one good-looking slob.

Mom was going to send you a message yesterday, Dad. She wasn’t sure if that was okay. Which was completely stupid, I mean… god… obviously she should say something to you. But she thinks you’re mad at her, but she won’t tell me why.

She’s almost as infuriating as those dirty gym socks I keep stepping over.

I know you’re not mad at her, Dad. I know that you still love her. I know that we’ll see you again someday, once things settle down and it’s safe to travel.

I told Mom that you’d be home eventually.

She was worried you wouldn’t be able to find us. She thinks that we’ll move again.

I don’t think that’s true. It is getting safer out here, even if it’s only because everyone else has already left.

They say there’s a living city in Toronto, people already growing gardens and raising chickens and rabbits around Kensington Market. They’ve even re-opened the AGO from what Deirdre tells me. She’s even been there. Not sure why she came back here to us after all that. I mean, do you know how many Dutch Masters they have at the AGO?

They call the whole area Kensington now, or sometimes Payton Place because of Payton Yallow, who’s apparently like the mayor or nasally mascot or something. Sometimes I wonder if we should move down there, but both Mom and Harrison think it’s too risky, that living in the old core is like living in a little garden in the middle of a prison. I guess the prison walls are made from the crumbling ring of suburbs; since there’s no GO Transit anymore, it’d take like a full day of walking to get from downtown to the farmland north of us, and that doesn’t include the part where the suburbibals hunt you for meat.

So if you ever do get back from the business trip from hell, Dad… make sure you steer clear of downtown Toronto. Just keep north of the 407 and look for us just south of Coleraine. The giant slab of concrete with the truck trailers and shipping containers should tip you off to our whereabouts.

Just promise not to pick a fight with Harrison.

Because… long story short… I think if he asks, I might just say yes. Not that I’m sure there’s something that comes after that part.

So I’ll talk to you later, Dad.

I love you.

- -

Day One: Thursday, May 23rd

If it was up to me, we’d run any roadblock we come across. The only reason I’m doing this is so I can get down to Toronto in one piece, and I don’t give a shit about who or what happens to come up between here and there.

I don’t care what anyone north of Toronto thinks of me.

I don’t care about any goddamn consequences.

But it’s not up to me. It doesn’t matter what I want.

For the first time in a long time, I’ve got orders.

And those orders are pissing me right the fuck off.

-

We reached the Net Lake picnic site around lunchtime. It really is the perfect place for a picnic, with a lakeside view and a nice couple of camping trailers blocking the highway into the town of Temagami.

Livingston stayed back by the LAV, with the driver and the gunner; he was dressed in my old OPP armour, helmet off, and not wearing it nearly as well as I did.

I waited right up at the roadblock with Master Corporal Manolis, or Sonia, as I call her in my head, but try and remember not to say whenever I’m talking to her or the men. We were both decked out in combat uniform, me looking like I actually belonged in the army after almost thirty years of just being Baptiste.

There were two men standing between the blocking campers, each with a hunting rifle. One man was probably just shy of twenty, the other well into his forties. Both had beards, both like they hadn’t been trimmed in weeks. They hadn’t expected visitors at all, especially not a handful of soldiers in a light armoured vehicle.

They’d radioed back to base with their handhelds; I didn’t know for sure at that point, but I’d already suspected that they didn’t have any kind of network set up.

And neither of those two guys seemed ready to talk to us at all. They looked terrified. I hadn’t been expecting that.

From what I’d been told, Temagami was considered part of Temiskaming, even if no one had bothered to officially check in with them for almost a month; Lisa had told me that they still have the occasional visits from Temagami residents to the emergency ward in New Liskeard, so it wasn’t like there was some kind of isolation policy.

So why were they so scared of us?

Sonia and I chewed on our pemmican, while Livingston pretended to eat his, not yet hungry enough to develop a taste for animal fat and berry puree.

And after ten minutes of waiting, a truck came up from the south. Two more men got out of the truck, with two more hunting rifles.

One of them was overweight, enough that he stood out compared to everyone else, especially since he was maybe mid-twenties. It’s hard to imagine finding ways to keep that heavy these days.

It didn’t take me more than a few seconds to realize who he reminded me of. He was like the spitting image of legendary Toronto crack mayor, Rob Ford. Maybe a little thinner…

I’m Cade Richmond, the man said as he walked through the gap between the campers. He stuck his hand out to me.

I took it.

I’m Lieutenant-Colonel Robert Jeanbaptiste, I said. 3rd Battalion, Royal Canadian Regiment. The over-the-top officer’s rank is a little too much for me, but what can I do? I’ve got orders.

You’ve been reactivated, eh? Last I heard you were an independent operator.

I’m surprised you’ve heard about me all the way down here.

Surprises me, too... since we’re pretty much on our own. No network, no electrical… hard to believe we’re supposed to be a part of the great and powerful Temiskaming.

That’s why we’re here, I said.

You don’t look like an engineer corps.

Baby steps, Mr. Richmond.

It’s been two years since we lost those transmission lines. Two years of nothing. Two years of neglect from the people you work for.

Maybe we could head into town... you could yell at me over a cup of tea or something.

Tea? Are you kidding me? You’ll be lucky to get a cup of dirty water.

-

We were escorted down Highway 11 by the pickup truck, like the world’s smallest Santa Claus Parade.

Sonia let me take the commander’s hatch for the view, the gunner, Corporal Labaki, right beside me; I was hoping to be the good cop in all this, smiling and maybe waving from time to time, while the good corporal would stand ready to start shooting.

The forest just past the roadblock had survived The Fires, in part due to a wide firebreak they’d cut due east. That break now contained two rows of chain-link fence, with at least five meters of no man’s land in between, over the train tracks and beyond. A tire track ran on the north side of the fences; my best guess was that the pickup spent some of its time patrolling that border.

I’m not sure that means that the people of Temagami have a problem with us as neighbours… might just mean they don’t think we can keep our side of the border safe.

We passed a road, but I couldn’t make out what was down it. My new tablet -- a gift from the provisional president herself -- showed quite a few houses down that way, just out of view. But that map and those sat photos are long out-of-date; everything I have is from before The Fires.

We passed two women not long after the junction, riding bicycles and going the same direction we were. I gave them a wave, while they stared back.

I guess we look scary, I said to Labaki.

He just nodded.

We crossed over Net Lake and saw the first set of houses we could see off the highway. They were in good shape, probably still occupied.

There was nothing but forest for quite a stretch after those couple of buildings, until we crossed a marshy creek and some railroad tracks, and soon arrived at the edge of the main town.

A water tower, a school, and more houses.

The only thing that seemed off was how many people were on foot or on bikes; the pickup truck was the only other vehicle moving.

No fuel, I said.

Nowhere to get it from, Sonia said over the comm. It’s not like Temiskaming is going to send tanker trucks down this way.

I gave a few more waves, and got a few more stares in return. I was starting to wonder if we were really all that scary, or if people just didn’t like us very much.

I would have expected the sight of the Canadian Forces to bring a few smiles, even if no one started cheering or anything. The Army means some kind of deliverance, doesn’t it?

But then again, our little army had been less than an hour away for what, two years?

It’s not how I would have handled things. One day I’ll ask the old boss, Yvon Brassard, just why they left Temagami to rot. Why they didn’t realize that those chickens would one day come home to roost / crap on our heads.

Richmond brought Livingston and I into a two story brick building that still had vestiges of being a Chinese restaurant, a hanging Fire Tiger calendar and plastic tablecloths on round tables. After transmitting a SITREP by shortwave to the barracks at Notre Dame, Sonia waited with the rest of her crew in the LAV, just in case; Richmond left his man outside, too.

Livingston had taken off the armour and changed his clothes, against my recommendation. He was walking into the building in a suit and tie, and unarmed. He was putting his life into the hands of people he’d just met.

People who didn’t seem too happy with us.

I had my sidearm, but I wasn’t sure that would be enough. It’s not like there couldn’t be a whole kitchen full of people with guns back there somewhere. And probably none of that delicious wonton soup, like the stuff I used to order at Hong Shing.

There were four cups of tea waiting on the round table Richmond led us to. The three of us sat down.

I’m expecting a fourth, Richmond said.

Ms. Manolis is waiting outside, Livingston said.

Not from your people...

Are you in charge, Mr. Richmond? I asked.

He gave a quick nod.

Then who’s the fourth? Livingston asked.

My sister.

Your sister?

She’s the brains of the operation. I’m just the pretty face.

Your sister is running late, I said.

She’s always running late. Doing her makeup, maybe... or cleaning her gun...

She sounds lovely, Livingston said.

Don’t try to be funny, Richmond said. It doesn’t suit you.

No one’s trying to be funny, I said. We’re here to straighten things out. From what I’ve heard, you guys have been forgotten about...

Half-starved and in the dark. I wish I could say you guys forgot about us, but it seems more malicious than that.

We’ve been a little busy fighting a war, actually. Risking our butts so you don’t have to.

We wouldn’t be much good for a fight, Richmond said. Since we’re half-starved, as I mentioned before.

You’re seriously saying half-starved? Livingston said, before he could stop himself.

Richmond smirked. Oh, we’ve got plenty of empty calories left to eat... potato chips, soda crackers... it’s the nutrition that’s lacking. We’re growing vegetables, but there’s never enough.

Potatoes and milk, I said. That should be your focus.

Milk? Are you kidding me? You want me to try and milk some squirrels? Maybe a moose?

Well, we can help you. We can start bringing stuff down to make up for what you don’t have.

Why now? Why not four months ago, when it was cold as hell and we were barely holding on?

I sighed. Look... don’t bullshit me. If it was that bad, you would have marched up north to Temiskaming for help.

We weren’t about to waste our time begging for scraps.

You would’ve, if you’d had to. If you’d been in real danger, rather than just… a bit peckish. So again... don’t bullshit me.

I heard the door open.

A woman in her late twenties with curly black hair walked in. She had her eyes locked on me. I had my eyes on her dark green yoga pants.

My sister, Richmond said. Mrs. Breanna Bradford.

She didn’t look anything like him. Well, maybe the hair, since Richmond’s hair was around the same colour. I noticed the wedding ring, which likely went with the Mrs and the different last name.

May I call you Baptiste? she asked.

That’s fine, Mrs. Bradford, I said.

I’d expected her to say something about that, call me Breanna, or something... but she didn’t.

She sat down at the empty seat, between Richmond and me.

Was he bullshitting you? she asked me, leaning in.

A little, I said.

She laughed. He paints a dark picture. But yeah... things aren’t great.

That’s why we’re here.

She smiled. Come on, Baptiste. It’s not a bullshit competition. We know you’re just passing through.

But that doesn’t mean we don’t want to help, Livingston said.

You mean you want to deal, Richmond said. Am I right?

We want to secure our borders, I said. Same as you.

We’re securing our borders. Didn’t you notice?

Wouldn’t it be great to eliminate one of those borders?

We only have the one, actually. With you guys.

What about the south?

There’s nothing to the south.

You have a deal with North Bay? Livingston asked.

There is no North Bay, his sister said. Nothing you’d recognize, anyway.

That made me think of something Master Corporal Gosselin of Aiguebelle had told me, back before the final push against The Souls and D’Arcy Mach’s Dunrugged. Le bord -- The Edge -- from Montreal to North Bay, where there was nothing but scorched earth and crumbled buildings.

Richmond’s sister could have been lying to us, but I doubted it. If they knew we were passing through, they knew we’d see for ourselves soon enough.

Nothing south of Marten River, Richmond said. Just ash and bones.

Marten River? I said. I pulled out my tablet and unfolded it on the table.

I used to have one of those. Gave up on charging it a long time ago.

You don’t have renewables? Livingston asked. Or generators?

Richmond smirked again. We’ve got nothing to spare for luxuries, Mr. Livingston.

Well you should really splurge on one of these, I said. "They’re pretty spectacular."

You’re really fucking funny, Richmond said.

Take it easy, Cade, his sister said. She turned to me. You’re not making this easy for us, you know that? People are angry. Temiskaming has thousands upon thousands of acres of cropland, while we’re two months away from running out of flour. The last shipment we got from your people was last fall.

What did our people get in return for that shipment? I asked.

What?

What was the arrangement?

There was no arrangement. Just flour so we wouldn’t starve to death.

That’s the problem, isn’t it? That’s not a trade agreement... that’s an aid package. That’s not sustainable.

What the hell is wrong with you people? Richmond said.

We have fish and game, she said. And a mine that can still be brought online if it needs to be...

You don’t have anything we need, I said. We have all that already. Plus farmland, and hydro, and weapons...

I knew Livingston was glaring at me, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking his way.

So we have no value, Richmond said. You might as well just drown us all in the lake.

Come on, Cade, his sister said.

He looked over to her. It took a moment for him to calm down. Yeah, okay… he said. He looked back to me. You just said you wanted to remove a border. Isn’t that something you need?

We want you to join us, I said. But before we start the process, you need to be clear on the balance of power.

That we have no power, his sister said.

Precisely.

Come on, Baptiste, Livingston said, you don’t need to be an ass about it.

We need two lists, I said. A list of every person in the municipality, along with their age, gender, profession, place of residence, and any useful skills they might have.

That’s a buttload of work, Richmond said.

You should already have something like that, Livingston said. Don’t you?

People come and go, man. We don’t try to stop them.

We can put something together, his sister said.

The other list is an inventory of all supplies, I said. And I mean all.

She frowned. That list we don’t have. And it’ll take weeks to get it.

There are over four hundred households in Temagami, Richmond said. Do the math.

We have people who can help with the second list, Livingston said. We’ve got a team that’s ready to inventory everything.

Only once we’re confident in their safety, I said. Hence the need for that first list.

So you want to make sure we don’t have any escaped bikers, or those guys from Detour Lake, Richmond said. Well, we don’t. And even if we did --

You wouldn’t put it on a list. I know.

You’re going to run everyone’s name, his sister said. We’re all under suspicion.

I nodded. We didn’t have access to everything, no psych profiles or messaging logs, but we had enough to make the search worthwhile, past charges or citations, credit history... enough for the team at Val d’Or to track down the right markers. Anyone who seemed off in any tiny way... we’d know about them. Not that we had any plan on what to do with them.

What if we say no? Richmond asked. What if we refuse to submit to unlawful background checks?

Unlawful? Livingston said. Are you kidding?

We’re not negotiating, I said. We are informing you of the process that needs to be followed. So follow the process, or...

Or what? his sister asked.

Or we don’t provide you with any supplies. No fuel, no food, and no hydro.

No thanks, Richmond said. We’re not interested.

The fetching Mrs. Breanna Bradford turned to look at her brother; she seemed as surprised as we were. Cade… she said.

Just go home, gentlemen, Richmond said. We’ll keep on without your help.

There is no second offer, I said. Once we leave town, we’re gone.

That’s not how it works, his sister said. You won’t just let us starve. Some of our people have family in Temiskaming...

The conditions will remain the same, Livingston said. Even if you get emergency supplies, you won’t get anything more than the bare minimum, until you get us those lists.

So that’s how it starts, Richmond said. You look over the lists, and you decide that so-and-so is not welcome in your little kingdom. So what then? They get dropped off in the bush and told to fend for themselves?

No one’s getting dropped off in the bush, I said.

So you’ll just shoot ‘em, then? I know you’ve done plenty of that already, Baptiste.

Let’s take a few minutes, his sister said. Let’s all cool off...

That’s a good idea, Livingston said.

Forget it, Richmond said. Nothing’s going to change. The conditions are unacceptable now, and will be unacceptable an hour from now, or a month from now.

Enough, Cade, his sister said. Don’t be such a jackass. She stood up from her chair. You guys can stay here for a while, if you’d like. We can get some food sent over.

We’re good, Livingston said. Thank you. It was as though he’d forgotten what was on our ration menu for the foreseeable future.

I was interested in eating anything else.

Richmond got up slowly, eyeing me as he rose. He didn’t say another word as he left the shuttered restaurant, his sister following behind.

More lifelong friends, Livingston said. You have a gift, Baptiste.

I got up from the chair.

Livingston watched me as I made my way to the kitchen.

He followed me. Into the kitchen, and then out the back door.

He’s hiding something, I said once we were outside.

How do you know?

I didn’t. I just wasn't about to believe in goddamn beggars who would hold out for a chance to start choosing. They weren’t as bad off as they wanted us to believe, as they seemed to want everyone else in Temagami to believe.

Well? he said. How do you know?

They have too much food, I said.

What?

You saw that guy. He isn’t starving. His sister looks just fine, too. Just fine.

They’re at the top of the pyramid, though... maybe it’s worse at the bottom.

It probably is. But that doesn’t change that he’s not being honest with us.

So he’s lying? Because he isn’t playing along?

Yeah. I guess. I don’t know.

I don’t see it, Livingston said. And I know liars. I’m a goddamn politician.

You’re a piss-poor politician if you can’t tell that he’s full of shit.

We’re all full of shit... but is he more full of shit than the rest of us? I don’t think so.

What the hell are you even talking about? I said. So he’s a liar, only he isn’t, really?

Well, he’s lying about being in a bad way, Livingston said. And he’s lying about actually giving a crap about the background checks. But that’s just posturing.

As opposed to what?

As opposed to some big, dirty secret. I don’t think they have a barn full of Souls members, if that’s what you’re thinking.

I don’t think he’d know if they did. You think he has any idea what’s happening in the cottages on the far side of the lake?

True enough...

So there’s something he’s not saying.

About North Bay?

I don’t know.

About Sudbury?

I don’t know, I said.

So what do we do? Do we just walk away from this? Keep heading south and let someone else worry about these guys?

I would, if it was up to me.

I’ve got my orders, I said.

Yeah, I know. Make contact with Temagami. Done and done.

More than that.

Oh?

I’m not supposed to take ‘no’ for an answer.

Livingston shook his head. I don’t like where this is going.

Cade Richmond and his sister don’t speak for the people of Temagami.

He said he was in charge.

But the provisional government doesn’t accept that notion.

What does that even mean?

The Souls coerced an entire city. Over thirty thousand people. And Mushkegowuk felt that it was perfectly acceptable to draw up contracts for treating half their people like cattle. The whole idea behind our shiny new confederation is that we won’t accept anything but a hundred percent delegative democracy going forward.

What confederation? You mean the one that doesn’t even have a name yet?

If Temagami wants to tell us ‘no’, then Temagami needs to send a delegation to Temiskaming to vote against joining. Those are the guidelines that I’ve been given.

Livingston turned away.

Don’t get pissy, I said.

He looked back with a glare. So we withhold supplies and we refuse to take ‘no’ for an answer. How is this better than Souls of Flesh?

Don’t be an idiot, Livingston.

You didn’t tell me about these guidelines.

You don’t even have official status. Did you think you were in charge or something?

Why did I come? he asked.

I don’t know.

I don’t know, either. God, Baptiste... you guys are doing your best to mess this up.

What’s that supposed to mean?

What will happen when you tell Richmond that he’s not allowed to decline your conditions? Do you think he’ll just bend the knee?

We have everything and they have nothing. He doesn’t have a choice.

You’re not that stupid, Livingston said.

We have an army. And they have no real reason to fight.

But you’re doing your best to give them that reason. You’re pushing them in the wrong direction.

I threw up my hands. I have to do something...

No, he said. You don’t. Let me talk to them.

I know what I’m doing.

It can’t come from you, Baptiste. It can’t come from the military at all.

You don’t have any authority.

I don’t need authority. I just need a chance to bring them on side.

And you think I’ve fucked up my chances.

I think you’re doing what you need to do, Baptiste. You’re showing them how strong we are. Now you need to let me show them that we’re right.

He had a point. I’m not pigheaded enough to think that I could switch gears and make friends with Cade Richmond. I was the asshole with the bad attitude and the armoured vehicle.

Livingston was the unassuming gay man with the jacket and tie. Pretty non-threatening by today’s end-of-the-world standards.

I need to be there, I said. At the table.

I know. But you need to trust me.

I trust you.

He nodded. I know. That’s why you haven’t shot me yet.

-

Sonia rushed up to me, before we reached the LAV.

Message from HQ, she said. They sent Matt Kazimierski to pick you up.

I’m sure that’s a joke, I said. Someone’s trying to make you look silly.

Excuse me, sir?

Seriously? They’re sending Matt?

No, sir, Sonia said, he’s already at the roadblock.

So we head up to meet him?

They’re sending a car to get you.

-

Mrs. Breanna Bradford showed up ten minutes later, in a small electric two-seater.

She didn’t get out of the car; she just stuck her head out the open window.

I’ll take you up to your man, she told me. Get in.

I looked over to Livingston.

He shrugged.

Hold down the fort, Ms. Manolis, I said.

Yes, sir, she said.

I climbed into the passenger seat of the little green car.

You’re leaving already, Breanna Bradford said, as she started driving north on 11, the breeze coming in through the open windows.

Well, you’re the one driving me, I said.

Have you ever gone hungry, Baptiste?

What?

Gone hungry. Like when there’s no food to eat, and it gets to the point where you can’t even think about it or you’ll go crazy.

I skipped breakfast once.

I’m not joking around with you.

Yeah…

Not having power isn’t just about having to walk everywhere, she said. "It’s about not being able to

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