“You met him last year. He was John’s friend.”
“I remember now.”
The two women stood behind the tractors, Karen using field glasses to look down the long gravel road. Looking for dust trails. Anything moving. Rita smelled the sage floating on the breeze, watched the insects buzzing around her head. Looked up at the cloudless blue sky. Glad she wore her sunglasses to shield against the dazzling bright sun, the July heat rising, sweat beaded on her forehead, her armpits wet.
“See anything?”
Karen kept peering through the binoculars. “Nothing so far.”
Rita looked behind her. “A gray truck’s coming up the hill.”
Karen turned to look. “That’s Bill.”
Rita said nothing, just waited for the truck to arrive. Watched a tall lanky middle aged, maybe slightly older man exit the vehicle, his smile bright as he recognized her.
“Hi Rita. Still beautiful as ever.”
She was surprised he remembered her name. “Hi Bill.”
“Come to fight the good fight have you?”
Rita nodded. “I guess.”
He looked at her rifle. “You have a good .308 there.”
“I only have two bullets for it.”
“I have lots.” He said hello to Karen, then fished inside his canvas pack and withdrew a box of shells, handed them to Rita. “Fill up your gun.”
“Thanks, Bill. Think we’ll have trouble today?”
“I doubt it. Satan’s stooges are still probably busy in the cities killing infidels.”
Rita had never heard that expression before. She said nothing, just loaded her rifle with ammunition. When it was fully loaded she held out the box with the remaining shells to Bill.
“Keep the box. I have lots more ammo.”
“Bill’s a survivalist, sis. Best armed man in St. Victor.”
“I’m not so stupid now, am I?” He winked.
“No, you’re not stupid, Bill.”
“I knew this shit was coming. Damn politicians.” He spit, shook his head. “From all sides.”
Karen smiled a little. “Yeah. I guess the only good thing is the muzzies will kill most of the idiot politicians. They deserve to be killed too. Probably a public beheading like they’re so fond of doing.”
“Useful idiots. That’s what the evil bastards count on. That’s how they gain control. Never a shortage of useful idiots around.”
“We live in an upside down world where stupid is the new smart.”
Bill laughed. “You can say that again.” He walked beside Karen and looked along the gravel road running in a southerly direction across the prairie.
Rita looked up at the sky, watched the crying eagle circle above them. Remembered an old Indian friend, Joe Redbone, tell her that an eagle brought good luck. If it circles above your head it means he’s welcoming you here. She didn’t know if that was true, but Joe had a way of talking that she believed. She wondered what ever happened to him. Probably dead now. Maybe.
Rita looked at Bill. “Surely all Muslims can’t be evil can they?”
Bill laughed. “Maybe one or two.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes, Rita, that’s it. There are no good ones now. Probably never were any either. The only thing to do is kill ‘em all and let God sort ‘em out.”
“I hear there’s lots of them.”
“There is, but more and more people like us will rise up and fight the bastards. Unless its too late already. Anyway, its better to die on your feet than live on your knees. I’ll never submit to evil. That’s what they are.”
Rita remembered her young friend Sarah say the same thing. “We’re going to need more guns, I think.”
Bill smiled a little, he liked this woman. “Yeah. Just see what happens I guess.” He lifted his ball cap, wiped his brow, his longish graying hair, the day scorching hot now. “First thing will be the power going out. I’m surprised its still on. They’ll get to that eventually. Only a matter of time.”
Rita glanced at the road running downhill into the Provincial park. “What about that road?” She pointed.
“They could come through the park that way I guess. We don’t have enough people in town to watch everything though. The road is wired with grenades. A trip wire. We’ll hear them before they reach us.”
“Grenades?”
Bill nodded. “I smuggled a case up from the U.S. a few years back. Old buddy of mine down there sold them to me. Now that guy’s armed.” He smiled.
Karen looked at her sister. “Rita, get the water from the car. I’m dying in this heat today.”
Rita went to the car, returned with three bottles of rodeo cool water. Gave a bottle to her sister and one to Bill. “There was a march in Assiniboia when I rode through there earlier. Kids mostly. Holding signs saying death to the infidel. They hate the Jews too.”
Bill reached into a shirt pocket, removed a joint and lit it with a blue plastic lighter. Drew in a large amount of smoke, held it in his lungs, then let it release slowly into the sweltering air, the light wind carrying the smoke away. “They may get a little surprise soon.”
“Can I have a puff?” asked Rita. At this moment she needed a smoke of something.
“Sure beautiful. I got lots of dope too.” He handed her the joint.
Karen looked at her sister. “I didn’t know you smoked that stuff.”
Rita blew out the smoke. “There’s lots you don’t know about me.” She took another drag.
“My little sister a pot head.”
“Oh leave her be, Karen. We could all be dead before winter. What’s a little herb?”
“I just didn’t know, that’s all.”
Rita smiled. “I smoke it now and then. I play poker better high than straight. I can see the cards better. Make better decisions.”
“You like poker?” asked Bill.
“That’s what I do.”
“A pro, huh.”
Rita smiled. “So I’m told.”
“We
