“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 have a game in the brick building on Wednesday nights,” said Bill. “Or we used too anyway.”
Rita looked at him, swatted a bug that landed on her bare arm. “So you’re a player?”
“No. I just like the game. I never win. Always lose on the damn river card.”
“Its like that. I’m lucky. I’m good too, but I’ve always been lucky at cards.”
“Lucky at cards, unlucky at love?”
Rita nodded. “I guess that’s true too. What about you, Bill, no woman at home?”
He smiled. “Women think I’m crazy. They think I’m just some dumb redneck.” Bill sucked in a lung full of smoke.
“Are you?” asked Rita.
He grinned. “Sure as shit am.”
Rita glanced at her sister, looked at Bill. “On the road coming here earlier one of the kids marching on the street followed me from Assiniboia. He shot at me and took out the windshield on my bike. I killed him.”
Bill whistled. “No shit?”
“No shit. He’s dead.” Rita still felt no remorse of any kind. “He could still be laying there dead in the grass for all I know.”
“Good place for him.”
“They had the police protecting them.”
“The police? They’re no better than the savages.” Bill spit again. “I was talking to a buddy from Alberta last night on the shortwave. Some soldiers stole a bunch of weapons from a base there. They refuse to obey the government. Did you ever think the Government of Canada would go against its own people and side with the savages?”
Rita shook her head.
“Well they did,” said Bill. “That’s commies for you. Always on the wrong side of every issue. Commies like killing. They’re going to get their wish now.”
“What else did you hear?” asked Rita.
“Not much. Regular people like us are joining their friends to fight back. Good Christian folks too, folks who never harmed a soul in their lives. They’ll fight though. Surrender’s not an option anymore.”
Karen looked at Rita. “Did you really kill someone today?”
Rita nodded. “It was him or me.”
“Were you scared?”
“No. I was pissed off. I still am.”
She smiled. “Remind me never to piss you off, little sister.”
“He wasn’t very smart.”
“You’re lucky he was alone. They usually travel in a group.”
“He’s the only one I saw. Just after I turned on to the St. Victor road. He came up from behind in his truck, stopped and fired at me and my bike. I was already parked and waiting for him. This is his gun.” She held up the rifle.
Bill looked at the .22 pistol in her shoulder holster. “Did you kill him with that?”
Rita nodded.
Bill whistled. “A woman after my own heart. They get taught all that shit in school you know. Commie teachers have been ruining our kids for decades now. Everything muzzie is good. Everything else is bad. That’s what they teach ‘em you know.”
The rest of the shift went without incident and Rita and her sister arrived back in St. Victor early evening. Both women were hungry. Karen grilled up some steaks with last years potatoes and carrots from her garden. The beef was from a farmer friend who lived close to town. The pair sat on her back deck looking out at the hills.
“This is good.” Rita put another fork full of steak into her mouth.
“Yes, its good beef. One thing we won’t have to worry about is food. Most everyone in town planted a garden this year and there are lots of cows and deer around. We patrol the pastures too, in case anyone from outside wanders in looking for a meal.”
Rita chewed her food, looked around the yard and the hills close by. She swallowed, looked at Karen. “I hoped to be here yesterday. Were you depressed?”
“You mean because of John dying?”
Rita nodded. “It was a year yesterday.”
“John got sick and died. I think about him, but I can’t allow myself to dwell on that. There are more urgent things right now.”
“Why do they hate the Jews?” asked Rita.
“Who knows? They hate everybody. Everybody not like them. They’ve blamed the Jews for their problems forever. I have come to really hate them. I’m glad you killed that kid today.”
“I should feel something, but I don’t.”
“Don’t feel anything for those savages. We’re women and if they succeed we become slaves or dead.”
Rita looked at her sister, said nothing.
Karen glanced at her watch. “I just remembered there’s a meeting tonight.”
“What kind of meeting?”
“I don’t know.” She looked at her watch again. “In an hour from now.”
“Are you going?”
“I hoped to get some sleep. I need to stand guard at midnight.”
“At the petroglyphs?”
Karen shook her head. “At the east end. Just down the street.”
“Where is the meeting? I think I want to go.”
“Its in the community hall.”
Chapter Three
Rita