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The former Deputy Prime Minister, the second most powerful man in the nation, stared at the modest homes and shops of Three Pines; then his gaze went further.

“We’re very close to the United States here, aren’t we? We could probably walk right across. And vice versa.”

Just as the door was swinging shut, he said, “The one that’s fed. That’s the wolf that wins, isn’t it.”

And then the door closed, and automatically locked. He was on his way back to prison, and Armand was on his way back home.

“You mentioned social media.”

“Did I?”

“You know you did, Ruth,” said Reine-Marie. The three of them, including Rosa, were in the church basement. “You said we obviously hadn’t seen the posts. What posts?”

“About Canada invading the States.”

“Yes, you said the people of Jericho were afraid that would happen. Back in 1812, I’m assuming. You read that on some site on American-Canadian history?”

Reine-Marie, as a librarian but especially from her work in the Archives nationales du Québec, was very aware of that history. The two nations had not always been close allies. That was fairly recent. Most of the relationship in the early years had been acrimonious at best, often combative. And much of the fighting had been along the Québec-Vermont border.

In fact, Three Pines was created as a place of refuge for those Americans fleeing the fighting.

That was a long time ago.

“No,” said Ruth. “These people who are posting have no idea of the history, and probably don’t care about the past any more than they care about facts.”

“What do they care about?”

“Hard to tell. Most are shit disturbers.”

“Your people,” said Reine-Marie and expected to hear the elderly poet cackle. But there was silence.

“No. There’s crazy and then there’s crazy. These people are crazy.”

“Then why are you reading it?”

“Because if you pile up enough shit and leave it long enough, it has a way of combusting. And then you’re in trouble.”

Reine-Marie wanted to get away from that analogy. “What’re they saying?”

“Among other things, that during the pandemic Canada sent infected vaccines to the US that, when triggered, will turn the person into a zombie—”

“Oh, come on.” Reine-Marie laughed. “No one would believe that.”

“There are millions who believe the vaccines contained tracking devices.”

“Still, that’s pretty marginal stuff. And to what end? Why would we want zombies on our doorstep?”

“To finish what was started.”

“And that is?” Even as she asked it, she regretted the question. The answer would be crazy, and they had more important things to talk about.

The overhead florescent lights not only illuminated the map on the wall, they made both women look sallow.

“Canada’s plan to attack the US.”

“Of course. Our long-range plan, begun on July 5, 1776.” Reine-Marie actually snorted with laughter. “Even you can’t believe that.”

“I didn’t say I believe it. Of course I don’t. But many do. You should look at the site. And there are more like it appearing every day, the shit is spreading, not helped by AI and fabricated ‘evidence.’”