The Protectors (3 page)

The adults in the room groan in unison. They kn
ow that this is a stalling technique to keep from going to bed, but Broily is obsessed with the Knights and unlike everyone except the little children he actually believes they existed somewhere. To me, the idea of men risking their lives to help others they didn't even know, was as far-fetched as the flying steel birds the Sad Ones speak about, more so even.

Broily settles
back down with his face more relaxed. I notice there is even a childish twinkle and delight in his eyes. "In the early days it was the worst. No one knew what was going to happen. People kept expecting the government or some powerful corporation to come rolling in to save them, but those organizations were long gone. Whole cities simply vanished into great spasms of violent rapine and murder. Desperate animals and men fought over the corpses. Mothers ate the infants that only months before they had lovingly suckled. Fires blotted the sky so that some thought the sun had vanished forever. It was all gone. Those that were left wished for death."

I notice Mother had stopped her frantic knitting and was listening. With a flash of intuition I realize
that Broily wasn't the only one who wanted to believe. The image of an eye, painted onto a wall comes to mind. The Shriekers obliterate any symbol of the imaginary Knights of the Watch, so these eyes rarely last long, but they still appear on occasion. Maybe others want to believe as well.

"Out of that despair o
f death and ruin, men of strength and valor emerged," Broily proclaims triumphantly. "They banded together to protect and defend what they could. These men did not abandon their charge and they fought off the attacks of the marauders, the mobs, the road gangs, and the rogue soldiers. The Knights watched over these small pockets where people could survive like humans. Eventually these small pockets began to communicate with each other and became --"

"Broily," cr
ies out Crazy Reuben, "have you ever actually seen one of these Knights of the Watch? Better yet, have you ever even talked to someone who's seen them?" I notice without surprise that in addition to his normal erratic behavior Reuben is also drunk. Most likely from the peach wine or schnapps he makes for the Shriekers.

Startled, Broily opens
his mouth and then shuts it again before finally answering. "Lack of evidence is not evidence of lack."

Reuben snorts
. "Whatever the hell that's supposed to mean."

"It means,"
explains Broily with exaggerated patience, "that there is more evidence that they do exist than that they do not. And if they are out there, they could --"

"They could what?" asks
Reuben. "Come help us? Start a fight with the Shriekers? Don't you think you've had enough of that? Next time they'll chop off you damn tongue, or maybe even your head instead of just the hand you write...excuse me, wrote with."

Broily turn
s pale and then red.

"
That's enough for tonight," says Mother loudly, startling me. "Good night everyone, we have a long day of work tomorrow and let us all thank the Protectors for what we have. That is the purpose of the Remembering and why we are allowed to meet like this. Let us not abuse their generosity."

There are
several murmurs, but the crowd in the room begins to move and break into bits and pieces as everyone makes their way either back to a home or the Dormitory.

I was embarrassed for Mother though I
can't say why. She walks beside me as I push Grandpa's wheelchair. He looks up at Mother and I tense for what would likely be one of his rare reprimands.

Instead he reaches out and takes
Mother's hand. "Well done, Margaret."

She looks down at him and actually smiles. They grip
each other's hand firmly before releasing and glancing around furtively to make sure no one has seen them show affection.

There is so much I don
't understand. There is so much they will not tell me.

*******

The next morning I discover Victor. I might not have found him except for the sound of rain on that cloudless day. Looking at a fresh eye painted on a wall in mud, I almost don't place the sound at first.

Mother didn't have gardening this morning, so I walk alone
. I stop at the sound of rain striking a surface. The sound ceases, but then starts again. It was like water droplets hitting a roof. A nice sound. A soothing sound, totally out of place here.

I
n the shadows under the ruins of an old burned out house I see movement. A faint shifting of light that seemed to correspond to the noise. Approaching carefully I peer into the shadows.

Th
e movement and rain noise cease immediately. I think I heard a faint whimper. Someone is down there.

"It's okay," I say as soothingly as I can. "No one's going to hurt you."

I hear fast breathing. It might be one of the rejected Shrieker Girls. They were sometimes Cast Off and then had nowhere to go.

"Come on out please, it must be cold down there."

"Cold," says a deep voice.

My eyes widen and I fi
ght the urge to run. It is a male voice and it doesn't sound old or boyish. It is strong...yet something isn't right about it.

"Well, it will be warmer up here in the sunlight," I say
, being sure to stay back out of reach.

"No hurt Victor," the voice says.
"Safe here."

"Is that you
r name?" I ask. "Victor?"

A large head a
nd face tentatively materialize out of the shadows. Childlike eyes look at me fearfully from underneath long dirty hair. "I Victor. No hurt?"

"I won't hurt you," I say. "Can you please come out of there?"

The eyes leave mine and look to the left and right. He mumbles to himself, shakes his head, and begins to retreat.

"I bet you're hungry," I say. "We've got some food."

The big head reappears with a bright gleam in his eyes. Saliva actually begins to run down one corner of his face.

I hold out a hand. "Come on now. It's okay. You can't stay under that old house."

He hesitates before reaching out with a gigantic hand attached to a huge muscled forearm.

I'm
tempted to retreat from him, instead I hold myself steady and allow him to enfold my hand in his. I'm fearful he will pull me down with him or crush my hand, but he holds it gently as he climbs out of the darkness.

I had already gott
en a sense of his largeness, now I realize he is gigantic. Reaper is the biggest man anyone had ever seen and Victor is easily six inches taller. His filthy rags barely cover scared rippling muscles. He steps out carefully on bare calloused feet. In his other hand he holds tightly to a long dark wooden tube nearly five feet long with a cord tied around each end for easy carrying. As he moves the rain sound starts again.

"The rain noise," I say
in wonder.

Victor
grins shyly. "My rainmaker."

"Can I see it?" I hold
out my other hand.

He jerks his hand from mine and pulls back with the tube held protectively in his arms. Tears form in his eyes.

"It's okay," I say holding my hands out to him. "I'm not going to take it from you."

Victor stares
at me suspiciously for nearly a minute before dropping his eyes. "Food?"

My whole goal had been to get him out
from under the ruined house. Now I begin to wonder what I am going to do with him. The Protectors will kill any grown man they see, especially one so huge and strong. They won't stop to find out that he is as crippled in his mind as Grandpa is in the legs.

"Come on," I say lead
ing him towards our house. Victor hesitates, then follows. It isn't far but I look around the whole way afraid someone will see us. Fortunately, we don't encounter any other residents. It helps that we are on the very edge of the Borderland.

"This way," I say taking him ar
ound to the back. Something tells me I need to get Grandpa's help before bringing Mother into this. Both are cautious, but Mother is especially so. "Wait here," I tell Victor after placing him behind the corner of the workshop. I knock and then enter.

Grandpa looks up in surprise. "Teal, aren't you supposed to be at
Morning Shift?"

"I need your help," I say.

He takes off his spectacles and lays them carefully on the table. "What is it?"

I don't
answer, instead I go back out the door and then coax a downcast Victor into the workshop. He had to lower his head to get under the doorway.

"Good God Almighty," says
Grandpa slowly his eyes wide.

"I found him
under one of the Dead Houses. He's cold and hungry. I don't really think he's all there in the head."

Victor had started to moan and ro
ck back and forth avoiding both our intent gazes. Soon he was tilting his long tube up and down.

"I'll be," sa
ys Grandpa, "a rainmaker."

The big man
peers at Grandpa in surprise and nods vigorously. "Rainmaker. Victor's."

"Your name's Victor?
Where did you come from?" asks Grandpa.

Victor look
s away, his head droping down even further like some of the cowed dogs I have seen.

"It's like he's
expecting to get beaten," I say.

"He probably is," Grandpa answers. "Kindness is not something that's easy to find anymore. I'm guessing
he's just wandering around, finding food and shelter where he can. It's a wonder he's even been able to survive."

I was starting to get an idea. "Can
we --"

Mother walk
s in and stops. Her eyes flare wide going from Grandpa and me to Victor. She pulls a small slender knife from inside a sleeve. I had no idea she even carried a knife. Another in a long list of things I don't know about my mother I think. She is slowly turning to face the big man.

I step between them. "Mother, it's okay. This is Victor. I found him. He's just cold and hungry, can we help him?"

"Where're you from?" she asks Victor suspiciously while edging around me towards Victor.

"Victor," he says
. "Hungry."

"You'll have bigger things to worry about if t
he Shriekers find you," she says. "Matter of fact so will we. Better turn him in."

"No!" I cry
. "He's not a danger to them. Could be a help. Look how big and strong he is, he'd be good in the fields."

"Teal,"
Mother says slowly. "We can't hide him, we have to tell the Shriekers."

"But they'll just kill him," I
cry.

"I'll go talk to them," say
s Grandpa. "I'll speak with Clay. He'll listen to me, I think."

"Father," pleads
mother. "You don't have to do that. We can just give him some food and send him away from the town if we don't want to turn him in.

"
Winter is coming on," I say. "He'll freeze or starve."

Mother put
s her knife away. "Looks like he's managed to survive a few winters. He'll be okay. He's not a lost sheep or stray dog."

I st
art to protest, but Grandpa holds up a hand. "Let's not decide this right now. If we sneak him out we'll have to wait for nightfall anyway. Teal, you need to get to Morning Shift or there will definitely be trouble."

For the first time mother looks
afraid. She rushes out of the shed and then returns several minutes later. She pushes a pair of good thick mittens she'd made into my hands. "Give these to Reaper when you show up. Tell him I was feeling poorly and you had to help me. I don't think he'll report you."

"Especially if he thinks I might
Take the Chit from him," I say.

"Don't do that," says
Grandpa sternly. "I know what you're thinking and it's extremely dangerous. Do not give that man any indication you're thinking about going with him. If he feels led on it could be bad for all of us."

I tuck
the gloves into my belt. "You'll feed and hide Victor? Not send him away or turn him in?"

Mother start
s to answer but Grandpa jumps in. "No promises, but we don't have to decide now. You'll get your say in this, now go."

I hesitate,
looking at Victor, but then take off at a run.

"You c
oddle her far too much," I hear Mother say as I rush through the gate.

Mother is wrong about that
. Though it turned out she wasn't wrong about Reaper. He took mother's bribe and didn't report me.

*******

I feel nervous pushing Grandpa up to the Shrieker House. Mother offered to go instead of me, but Grandpa said I should go since I had found Victor. Mother didn't protest too vigorously and seemed relieved.