to look. I’ll sit in the truck and wait for you.”
He studied her face, smiled a little. “Take a drink. There’s a bottle in the glove box. You did good, Rita. Better than good.”
Rita said nothing, just watched him walk around the corner toward Main Street. She sat in the truck and opened the glove box. She heard sporadic gunfire, guessed they were killing the wounded lying on the street. She took a deep drink of whiskey, it burned her lips and throat. Tears ran down her face, though she didn’t feel them. She didn’t feel much of anything now. She was numb. Completely numb. After a time, she wasn’t sure how long, Tom James climbed into the truck beside her.
“You okay, Rita?”
She looked at him, wiped her face. “Yes. I’m okay. What now?”
“Now I take you home.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to come back and visit the Mayor.”
She knew what he meant. She asked. “Did we get that head Muslim?”
He nodded. “He ain’t a Muslim no more.”
Rita took a drink from the bottle, wiped her face again. “What about more police coming?”
Tom accepted the bottle, took a long drink. “There may be a few. Most are very busy in the cities right now. We’re not the only ones fighting tonight. There’s militia watching for police or anyone else. There’s no turning back. We either win or we die probably.”
Rita just looked at him, watched him move the truck. Win or die. She felt like maybe a piece of herself had died tonight on that bloody street. When they arrived back at Karen’s house after a silent ride Rita walked onto the porch, turned and watched Tom drive away and back toward Assiniboia. She dropped her guns on a chair and stripped naked. Slumped to the wooden deck and began to sob loudly. She felt her sister walk her into the house and put her to bed. Karen stayed with her until she was asleep.
Chapter Four
The clean up of bodies had taken a couple of days. Some were buried in large pits and covered with dirt. Those with family were buried privately. Assiniboia wasn’t the same town anymore. No one smiled much when you passed them on the street. Tom was the leader of the local militia now and was working feverishly to get food and electricity up and moving again.
It was now nearing the end of August, the power had been off for three weeks, but Bill had told Rita they were working to restore it. Soon hopefully. He told her that other towns and cities across the west had been fighting too. He believed that Canada was now divided into three parts. The east was mostly controlled by the savages as was the lower west coast, southern Vancouver Island. The interior of B.C., most of Alberta and Saskatchewan were in the rapidly growing Western Militia’s control now.
Assiniboia had been purged of all traitors. Even those suspected of being traitors were killed no matter the age of the person or their profession. As Bill had told her a few days back, there are no gray areas anymore. Only them and us. No mercy will be given to any traitor. The muzzies show no mercy and neither would the militia.
Rita had stayed in St. Victor since that night, though today she was going to take a ride to Assiniboia to visit with Tom. He was holding a barbecue for some of his friends in a park. She wondered what Black Diamond looked like now. Her rented trailer. Her old poker buddies. Were they even still alive?
She was sitting in the kitchen looking at the hills in the rear of the house when Karen walked in. Rita looked up at her. “Hi. Back for a while?”
She nodded. “You look like you’re going out somewhere.”
“I was thinking about going for a bike ride. Tom’s holding some sort of barbecue. Want to come along?”
“No. I think I just want a shower and relax.” She looked closer at her sister. “You like Tom?”
“I like him okay.”
“His wife is back with him now.”
“Oh yeah?” Rita thought about this. “When did she come back?”
“I heard she came back a couple days ago.”
“Well, whatever.”
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Maybe I’ll go and visit a friend at Thompson Lake for the day. If she’s still there.”
“The woman you brought on the motorcycle?”
“Yeah. She’s not much more than a kid, but she has a good head on her shoulders. She’s aware of things, unlike so many other young people these days.”
“What about the barbecue?”
“I guess I won’t go.”
“How long since you’ve been with a man?”
“Too long. Last New Year’s Eve.”
“One of your one night stands?” asked Karen.
“Don’t look at me like that. We don’t all have husbands who love us, you know.”
“I know. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I hope the power comes on soon. Bill said he thinks it might.”
“Some men are working on the problem. They sabotaged it pretty good, it could take some time.”
“This won’t end for a long time, will it?” asked Rita.
“No. At least around these parts things are better.”
“Bill also said the Western Militia is looking for people. People from Saskatchewan. Alberta and B.C. too. I was thinking of joining. They need people.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. I was just thinking about it.”
“You’re in a mood today.”
“I guess.” Rita stood to her feet. “Enjoy your shower. I’m going riding now.”
There’s nothing like the smells of the open road and the wind in your face to make a person feel better. Nothing quite like the exhaust note from a big v-twin motor as it vibrates and shakes between your legs. That moment of being at one with the machine. That fleeting moment of being at one with the world.
By the time Rita arrived at Thompson Lake she was in a better mood. She rode slowly up to the front gate of the park, stopped her bike. Watched an armed man walk toward her.
“What’s your business here?” he asked.
“I came to visit a friend. Sarah Smith.”
He looked at her. “Do you know where she lives?”
“Yes. I was here before.”
“Where
