Free After The Fires Went Out: Coyote (Book One of the Post-Apocalyptic Adventure Series) by Regan Wolfrom

right.”
    “Fuck,” I said. “It’s been decided, Graham. Let it go.”
    “All hail King Baptiste,” Lisa muttered.
    I’m not sure why everyone keeps calling me that.
     

    Caleb didn’t say a word as Justin drove us toward Quebec; he was still bound with the plasticuffs and I’d put the hood back on.
    The road to Aiguebelle was paved, but it hadn’t been maintained much even before the comet and The Fires, with surface breaks and a shoulder that dropped away every few hundred meters.
    It didn’t take long for us to reach the junction at Wade Lake. If you turn left there, it’s a good two hours to go visit the “objectivist commune” at Detour Lake. If you turn right and keep on for twenty minutes or so, you can get to Iroquois Falls, which used to be a small city before the plumbing went funny and people started puking their organs out.
    We went straight, toward Quebec and the twin cities of Rouyn-Noranda and Val-d’Or, or Aiguebelle as they like to be called. Those fine folks tend to talk down to we savages from Ontario.
    About two minutes later Justin pulled over.
    He climbed out of the car.
    I assumed he was going to take a piss.
    He pulled up his seat and grabbed Caleb by the arm. “Time to get out,” he said.
    “Hold on,” I said. “What the hell are you doing?”
    “End of the line.” He pulled Caleb out and pushed him toward the ditch.
    “We’re nowhere near Aiguebelle.”
    “This is as close as this kid’s getting.”
    “Wait,” Caleb said. “What are you doing?”
    “That Aiguebelle stuff was all for show,” Justin said. “A little bit of role playing for the ladies.”
    “No, Justin,” I said. “This isn’t the plan.”
    “Hold up... so you were serious? You were going to drag this sorry sack of shit to Aiguebelle? The borders are closed, Baptiste. They won’t let anyone in these days... and certainly not a goddamn murderer.”
    “I didn’t kill anyone,” Caleb said.
    “Shut up,” I said. “Since when are the borders closed?”
    “Since I’ve been moving people for a long time, Baptiste. The last few loads Marc and I made to Quebec, before you guys made us quit... I had to sneak them past the border guards. This needs to happen. We need to kill him.”
    “No. This isn’t how we handle things.”
    “It needs to be. If you don’t have the sack for it...”
    “I was worried you’d try to trade him off as a twink to Detour Lake... but not this...”
    “He’s worth nothing, Baptiste. And I fucking made you a promise, remember? No more trades outside your damned Supply Partnership.”
    “Yeah... you make a lot of promises.”
    “Seriously...”
    “So keep your latest promise. Let’s take him to Aiguebelle. He can stand at the border and beg for them to open it. Then he’s their problem.”
    “We’re not giving this asshole any more chances. You gave Ryan Stems a second chance, and look what that got us. Little Ant Lagace with three bullets in his chest.”
    “This isn’t the same thing,” I said.
    “You’re right. This time we know that there’s no upside to second chances. This time it ends with a bullet to the brain. Now either shoot this asshole or give me your gun and I’ll do it myself.”
    “Shit, Justin.”
    “Don’t make me bash this fucker’s head in with a rock.”
    I was losing control. “What the fuck is this? Do you think you can manipulate me into shooting someone?”
    “I’m not trying to manipulate you... I’m giving you the facts. Only two of us are getting back in that car.”
    “Not a chance,” I said. “We’re taking him to Aiguebelle.”
    “We need to kill him.”
    “I’m not going to let that happen.” I grabbed Caleb and steered him back toward the road. “We’re better than that. We’re not murderers.”
    “Fuck this shit,” Justin muttered as he began to follow behind. He was pissed.
    I was getting used to it. It’s easier to keep track of the precious few who still like me than try to count all the people