“Then who do you think they are?”
“I know who they are. Detour Lake.”
“How do you know?”
“Can we just get this done?”
I’d have to either accept his help or I’d have to bunk with the Walkers.
And since Katie was engaged, I’d probably end up canoodling with Livingston…
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
“Alright… you’re welcome, by the way.”
“I didn’t thank you.”
“That’s right… maybe you should…”
“Fuck you, Stems.”
He laughed. “Close enough.”
Stems did get a truck from the Walkers, complete with two more men and their hunting rifles. I took the gravel truck in front, with Stems in the passenger seat and both of us wearing body armour; it certainly fit Stems better than it would Sara.
Behind us was Stems’ half-ton, with his two men and his bride, who ended up with a shotgun that was almost as big as she was; that being said, it was clear from the moment she’d taken it from one of Stems’ men that she knew how to use it.
I guess Stems has a thing for girls with guns. I’ll be sure to keep him away from Lisa.
The Marchands waited behind with their two Ford pickups and Sara; we all switched to the same unencrypted band, so once we were sure it was safe, Stems would be able to call Sara on his handheld and give the Marchands the all-clear.
I drove up the road slowly, as Stems scanned the distance with his binoculars.
“I see them,” he said as we neared the rail crossing. “Two trucks.”
“Only two?”
“I’m not sure if the other’s behind or off somewhere else.”
“Could be another bad maneuver,” I said. “At the airport they tried to sneak up behind us.”
“There’s no behind us, is there?”
“Not yet… once we cross the tracks…”
“The tracks will be the ‘behind us’.”
“Maybe…”
“So we stop?”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
I put on the brakes.
We waited.
“No movement,” he said.
“I can see that.”
“Now what?”
“I’m in no hurry. Sometimes the key to victory is knowing when to sit back and wait.”
“I’m from the US Army,” Stems said. “We’re not so good at waiting.”
“Or nation building.”
“Or communication.”
“Or coming under budget.”
“Hah!” Stems said. “Sometimes I forget how much you and I hate each other.”
“I don’t forget.”
“Yeah… that’s not really your deal.”
“You’re still a criminal in my books.”
“I know.” He didn’t sound surprised. “They’re moving.”
“They’re coming?”
“Nope… they’re going. Still just the two… heading east.”
“Luring us?”
“I doubt it.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” I said.
I started moving forward, even more slowly than before.
“Step on it,” Stems said.
“Why?”
“I want to see how they react.”
“If they’re even watching.”
“They’re watching.”
I sped up, kicking up snow with the tires and making the engine roar.
“They’re off,” Stems said. “They’re pissing themselves.”
“No one is pissing themselves.”
“I am… a little…”
The Toyotas were speeding away, faster than you’d usually see on concession road in the middle of winter. They didn’t want us to catch up to them.
We reached the rail crossing.
I glanced to the left, and then to the right. “Nothing,” I said.
“So where’s lucky number three?”
It felt like the airport all over again. Two in front, a third hidden somewhere…
“Maybe I’m not the target,” I said.
“Who’s the target then?”
“They want us to give the all-clear. They want us to chase them toward Cochrane or Clute or something, and then the third truck will take its shot.”
“At the Walkers?”
“At the Marchands, maybe… or Sara… or both.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Baptiste. You’re the one who tried to kill them.”
“And they’re doing a piss poor job of trying to kill me back.”
“What?”
“Call Sara and tell them to stay put. Don’t mention anything else.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “Clear channel.”
He pushed for Sara. “Sara and Marchands, this is Stems. Stay where you are. Repeat. Stay where you are.”
There was no response.
“Sara and Marchands. Come in.”
Nothing.
“Shit,” Stems said. “Does she know how to work a handheld?”
“Something’s wrong. If she’s not responding… something’s happened.”
“Could be jamming.”
“But if they want us to give the all-clear…”
“They knew we wouldn’t. I said they were cowards… I didn’t say they were idiots.”
“So we turn back.”
“No, wait… I think I see them.”
“She couldn’t get through to us and so they decided to come looking for us?”
“I never said the Marchands weren’t idiots.”
I stopped the truck. “We’ll go together, I guess. I’ll ride with the Marchands.”
I hopped out.
The first of the Marchands trucks slowed to a stop; the second passed in front before slowing down a little further ahead.
Eva rolled down the passenger-side window. Sara was crammed up beside her.
“What’s going on?” Eva asked.
“I’m riding with you,” I said.
“There’s no room.”
“I’ll take the back.”
“But you’re the one they’re after.”
“We were chasing two trucks. We’re not sure where the third is. So I’m with you until we find it.”
She nodded.
I walked around to the back and climbed into the bed of the pickup.
The skinny kid was there, holding his hunting rifle with a serious look on his face.
“Together again,” I said.
He nodded.
I tapped on the cab and the truck started moving.
Stems took the lead, rushing ahead with his three trucks.
The other Ford pickup started up as well, falling in behind us.
We drove past the first concession road with no sign of the third Toyota. For all I knew there were three gray pickup trucks a ways in front of Stems, and I was just wasting our time. But I couldn’t think of a downside to a little extra caution.
A minute or two later we reached the junction with Highway 579. We couldn’t see the Toyotas.
To the right was Cochrane.
To the left was Clute and Silver Queen Lake.
Stems turned left.
We all followed.
As Stems passed a yardsite in the gravel truck I saw the truck swerve. He slammed on the brakes.
His second truck didn’t stop in time and rammed into the gravel truck.
His third drove into the ditch.
I was almost tossed over the cab as the pickup I was standing on lurched to a halt.
A gray Toyota pickup pulled onto the road, a man in armour and a helmet painted like an eagle standing in the back with the mounted.
He pointed it at Stems’ three trucks but didn’t fire.
A second Toyota came out behind. It turned onto the highway and drove toward us. I could see the helmet of its AA gunman, painted with leopard spots.
The Marchands slammed their two trucks into reverse. The boy and I did our best not to fall right out of the box
We sped backward to the junction. The second truck reversed onto the concession before switching back into drive and heading back onto the highway, to the west toward Cochrane.