a second time, the bullet shattering the windshield, Lexan flying off in all directions. Rita glanced at her motorcycle then back at the man, his eyes searching for her. She fired her pistol.
An expression of surprise and shock came to his face. He stood upright, his right arm dropping to his side, the rifle falling from his hand into the tall grass. He stood like that for a few seconds then slowly dropped to his knees, the momentum carrying him forward and onto his face.
Rita stood up slowly, listened, heard nothing but insects and the wind, walked through the grass toward the fallen man, her pistol cocked and ready. As she neared the truck she saw his unmoving body, the rifle beside him, she bent low and picked it up, stared at the dead kid. She guessed he couldn’t be much more than seventeen or eighteen years old judging from the side of his face that was visible to her.
She listened to the sound of insects, some flying close to her face, looked down at the dead man again, a fly walking across his cheek. Listened to the wind fight its way through the bushes, heard the cry of an eagle, her eyes moving upward following the bird as it circled above her head. It cried again, the sound an invisible blanket. She thought she should feel something bad about all this, but she didn’t. Her world was poker. There was only winning and losing. He went all in and lost. It was just that simple. Guns didn’t scare her. All the old boys used to pack heat at the games and all of them were smarter than the moon god’s little disciple here. He chose his side. He for sure would have killed her if he could have. She saw the look in his eyes earlier and the kill the Jews sign he had carried.
Rita quickly removed what was left of the windshield, glad the little bastard never hit anything important. She tied the rifle behind her seat, rode slowly past the dead kid and his truck out on to the road, the hills visible in the distance, her anger still rising. It took a lot to make Rita angry but she was angry now. From head to toe.
Within ten minutes she was descending into the valley, the village of St. Victor now visible, only a rifle shot’s distance from the fast moving motorcycle. As she rounded the curve just before the village she could see people and vehicles gathered together near the first house. A long yellow school bus parked across the road. She slowed, rode toward them in first gear.
A man raised his arms as she neared them. Rita stopped. Shut off the bike. Sat looking at him as he and another man walked toward her. Both carried rifles.
“What’s your business here?”
“My sister lives here.”
“Who’s your sister?” he asked.
“Karen Blake.”
He smiled. “I know Karen. I guess you ain’t no Muslim.”
She released a slow pained sarcastic smile. “I guess I’m not.”
He saw the look. “You can pass.”
Rita nodded, waited for the bus to be backed up, still pissed off, rode slowly past the guards and along the main street that ran through the village, trees on both sides, their branches meeting, covering the street. Rita spied Karen’s house and rode into the driveway. Saw her sister coming out to greet her. She parked and shut off the engine.
“You made it.”
Rita dismounted, hugged her older sister hard for a few seconds. “So, the world has changed I see.”
“Yes, for the worse.”
Rita didn’t tell Karen about the kid she killed just a few minutes ago. “Guards at both ends of town I see.”
Karen nodded. “We’re all taking turns watching. There’s only three roads into town. No one gets in unless they’re known or they fight their way in.”
“I still don’t understand how all this could have happened in Canada.”
“It happened slowly. Politicians sold this country down the river for votes. They kept bringing in more and more people from the Middle East. Called it multiculturalism. I hope they rot in hell. I hope I even put a few of them there myself, but the politicians are too cowardly to ever do their own fighting. Now they have the cops and the brainwashed idiots doing their fighting for them.”
“I’ve never heard you talk this way before,” said Rita.
“I know. Things are different now.”
Rita smiled. “Got anything to drink?”
“Come on inside. I have some beer in the fridge.”
Rita mostly listened to her sister for the next hour while enjoying a cold beer. Karen got Rita up to date on what happened, what was happening now, what might happen in the future. Rita realized just how much she had missed by not paying attention to the world around her. Now here she was in the middle of something really ugly and she never saw it coming. Not a good poker move, she thought. You always have to be careful of someone trapping you. Someone holding the hidden pairs that made their three of a kind, ready to bust your pair of aces.
After two beer each Karen needed to nap as she had to take a turn guarding the town in a couple hours. Rita went outside and unpacked her motorcycle. Sat on the front porch holding the rifle across her lap, sipping on her third beer. She didn’t know the caliber of the rifle and there were only a couple bullets remaining in the long gun. Maybe someone in town could supply some ammunition for the gun she hoped. After a few minutes she dozed off sitting in the large wicker chair, her beer half gone, the sound of birds singing in the trees that lined the main street that ran through the center of the village. The cry of an eagle above her.
Rita awoke as Karen touched her shoulder. She rubbed her eyes, looked at her sister dressed in blue denim, a rifle in her hands, her long blonde hair tied in a ponytail.
“I have to go, sis.”
“Can I come along?” asked Rita.
Karen nodded. “Sure. I’m going up to the top of the hill near the petroglyphs. There’s a barrier across the road up there now. That’s where I have to be for the next four hours.”
Rita stood to her feet slowly, still half asleep. She picked up her pistol from the deck floor. Looked at her chest. Decided to change her t-shirt as she had been wearing it since she left Black Diamond. She pulled the shirt over her head exposing her large bare breasts, reached inside her bag still sitting on the porch and retrieved a black cotton sleeveless blouse. Quickly donned the blouse and strapped the shoulder holster tightly. Picked up the rifle. Smiled at her sister.
“You still don’t wear a bra?”
“Like it matters?”
Karen grinned. “You won’t say that when you have to run and your tits keep hitting you in the face.”
“They’re soft.”
“Come on. Let’s go.”
The pair were soon at the top of the hill. Karen parked her car close to the two tractors blocking the road. Rita could see three people looking at them. Two men and a woman. They exited the car. Karen introduced her sister to the locals and the locals left soon after.
“Are you supposed to be alone here?” asked Rita.
“I’m not alone. You’re here.”
“But
