The real Islamists, the ones from the Middle East are mostly out in Ontario and Quebec. Vancouver too. I don’t know how bad things are. I do know most of the eastern cities are controlled by the crazies. I doubt Northern Ontario is though. The rural people have guns. Most in the cities don’t. At least not enough of them. I imagine some people will try and make their way out here soon. Before the snow comes.”
“If I join, will I be in Moose Jaw?”
He nodded again. “At first. Then I don’t know. Wherever we need you to be.”
“I’ll tell you what, Colonel. I need to think. Perhaps in the spring.”
He smiled, looked at her green eyes, a face that could melt a man’s heart. “Okay Rita Royale. You know where to find me.” He nodded to Karen and returned to where Tom James and some others were talking.
“I thought you wanted to join them?”
Rita looked at her. “I keep seeing all those kids lying dead. Kids I killed.”
“Still having bad dreams?”
“Every night.” Rita spotted Bill standing by himself. She motioned him over. “Bill,” she asked. “Still have that marijuana?”
He smiled. “Good idea. I was just thinking about a smoke. This coffee sucks. Come on over to my place and I’ll roll us up a big bomber. I’ve been saving a bottle of single malt. Maybe I’ll crack that baby open tonight.”
Rita smiled. “Did you sign up, Bill?”
“Yes, beautiful, I did. I may be nearly sixty, but I can still hold a rifle.”
“And a bazooka.”
“You know it.”
Bill’s small house was only a two minute walk from the hall. Karen didn’t go with them, as she had things that needed doing at home. Rita walked beside the older man, studied his slow gait, slight limp, glad he was on her side. They sat together on his deck and looked down the valley, the hills brown now, the green grass given up, waiting for next spring to arrive.
The air was cooler, still nice, and she smoked the joint, drank the scotch, enjoyed listening to Bill Alexander tell all he knew about Sharia, Islam, terrorists. He told her what life for a woman would be like under their laws. How women were nothing more than chattel. Slaves to their husbands and masters.
“I wouldn’t even be a slave, would I?” asked Rita.
“Not if your Jewish. You’d be dead. Plain and simple.”
“I don’t even know anything about Judaism. My father was a Jew, but I still don’t know much. He never talked about his background. He was nice, though. A good dad to me and Karen.”
“Well beautiful, all you need to know is that Satan’s stooges are evil. Nothing else. When you kill them you feel nothing. They are nothing. Its a good thing to kill evil.”
“You make it sound so simple, Bill.”
“It is simple. We’ve come down to simple now. All the political correctness, all the socialist bullshit, the dhimmi followers, its all washed away. They’re nothing to me. If I had my way they’d have been stopped years ago. But I’m crazy, remember?”
“Crazy like a fox.”
“Yes. I like foxes. Except when they come in my yard looking for my cat.”
“The big orange one?”
He nodded. “Buddy. King of the wild frontier. Maybe when I’m gone you can watch out for him. You can even live here in my house if you like. Or just come by and make sure he’s okay. I think I’ll miss him the most.”
“When are you going?”
“Tomorrow.”
“That soon?”
He nodded.
“Can I stay with you tonight?”
He looked at her. “Sure. I have an extra cot you can sleep on.”
She shook her head. “No. I mean can I stay with you?”
“Oh Rita, you make an old guy’s heart swell, but its been so long now. I wouldn’t know what to do anymore.”
“Just be close. That’s all I need tonight. I’ll stay here and watch after Buddy for you.”
He looked at her. “Okay.”
Bill left early the next morning after leaving written instructions on the care and feeding of the cat. There was lots of food and treats for Buddy and he seemed to take to Rita right away. He even followed her back to Karen’s house and lay near the edge of the garden while the women dug up the potatoes from the fertile ground.
St. Victor is a small village on the edge of the Medicine Line, a place where the hills rise out of the sacred ground, where the petroglyphs watch down over the valley. A place of eagles and mystery. A place of ghosts. A place of finding yourself when you find yourself to be hopelessly lost.
Working all day in the garden with Karen was therapeutic for Rita. She imagined Sioux warriors riding their ponies right where they were standing. She could almost hear the unshod hooves pounding the prairie grass as they searched for buffalo. Sitting Bull’s warriors. She wondered whether old Joe Redbone was a Sioux. She always thought he was. He never mentioned where he came from, only where he wanted to go. Only that. He said its good for a man to know where he’s going. A woman too, he told her. Said her destiny waited in places of darkness but not to be afraid because the eagle watched over her. She carried the bird’s spirit with her. It would fly her out of the darkness when the time came. Even gave her an Indian name. A name she never told to a soul.
Chapter Five
It was early November now and Rita was still staying with Buddy the cat at Bill’s house. Bill came back for a few days in October, but he hadn’t been seen or heard from since. He told her the militia was growing by the day. Thought perhaps they might not need him now because of his age, but he hoped that wasn’t the case. The power was on again. The coal plants working full time. The power lines repaired.
Moose Jaw was savage free, he told her. He said there may still be the odd ones hiding in the city but so far they hadn’t located them, but they would. Most all of Saskatchewan was now in the hands of the Western Militia, only pockets of savages in Regina, Saskatoon also, but a force was being sent to those places to rout them out. To kill them all. Alberta was pretty much the same. The West was getting organized very quickly under General Arnold’s control.
Heavy snow was falling on the valley today, the ground completely covered, the snow growing deeper by the minute. Rita sat gazing out Bill’s front room window watching the wall of white while smoking some of the tasty weed he had left for her. He said to smoke it all and not think about anything bad. Reminded her to give Buddy his treats every day, which she did. She and Buddy were becoming good friends and the cat followed her around when he wasn’t sleeping. Now that winter was at the front door, he slept more and more.
A white car drove into the yard. She wouldn’t even have seen the car except for the shimmering headlights, the snow like a curtain around the world. She walked to the door and waited for the knock. Slowly opened the door and saw the smiling face of her friend Sarah Smith. She held three bags in her small hands.
“Hi Rita.”
“Sarah Smith. You drove in this weather?” She stood aside and ushered her into the house.
“It wasn’t bad except the last little while. I found out where your sister lives and she pointed me here.”
“What’s in the bags?”
Sarah smiled. “Gifts. Stout from daddy. A knitted afghan from my mom. She said it will keep you warm. My parents like you. So do I.” She smiled. “And I got you these.” Sarah reached into a bag and removed a pair of moccasins.
“Moccasins?”