The Protectors (6 page)

The large
meeting room soon fills with nearly a hundred Protected. Almost all of them are women and all are nervous. This has never been done as far as anyone knows and many keep looking over their shoulders and out windows racked with guilt and fear.

"We should get started," says
Doc Huck looking at Grandpa.

My grandfather nods and appears
to gather his courage before speaking. "Many of you remember the Rebellion over a decade ago. Few of you remember the times before and only a handful lived in the days of the Great Plague."

I find
myself leaning forward in anticipation. I knew every story by heart, but this was new.

"The
Shriekers weren't the first road gang to attack Newton in those dark days, but they took the most. We were nearly burned out twice and most of the town starved in the Famine Year. Those that were left fought each other for every kernel of corn or rotting dog corpse. None of us were in any shape to fight off the attacks. So we made a deal with the devil, but things were so bad we didn't care. The Shriekers helped us for a time when we were getting raids near every week. It was a good arrangement at first. We gave them a little food and shelter and they helped us fight. And for a while it worked. We focused on growing food and they watched our backs while we did it."

Mother's hand was under her sleeve and I suspected she was unconsciously touching
her hidden knife.

"
The fighting was bad at first, but gangs eventually learned to pass by Newton. Wasn't long after that we were scavenging outside the town and planting whole fields of our own food again. People began to cooperate. Soon, the madness settled and we weren't getting attacked at all. Then the Shriekers started taking from us. A little at first, such that it wasn't worth protesting, but it grew over time. It was inevitable I guess, in their nature. Soon they were stealing our food and women. Groups of them breaking into houses at night and doing their worst. Anyone who
did
protest was gunned down, back when we had guns. Something had to be done."

"The Rebellion," sa
ys a girl to my right.

"Their word, not ours,"
answers Broily.

Grandpa smiles
sadly. "I'm pretty sure we surprised them. Didn't enter their heads that we would dare go after them. They expected us to obey and endure, no matter what they did to us. Terror was their only weapon and one they used with practiced precision."

I look
at Mother and wonder what she is remembering. How many times did they break into our house? How many cruel men raped and abused her? At what point did Grandpa protest too much and lose his legs for it?

"We damn near had th
em beat," continues Grandpa, "but winter was coming on and we knew if we were to survive we needed to prepare. By then most of the Shriekers were dead and many of our men were too. Both sides were at the end of their endurance and we were destroying the town as we fought. That's why we don't have running water or sewage anymore, but everything was breaking down and we knew it could no longer be replaced."

"So you made a treaty with the
Shriekers," says Sarah. Even her conversational voice is beautiful, I realize in the stillness.

Grandpa nods
. "We got almost everything we wanted. They agreed to not mistreat the women, children, old, or infirm. They agreed to never take a woman by force again. They would be our Protectors and we the Protected and we would provide for them as long as they helped defend us and abided by the Treaty."

"But
they didn't abide by it?" asks a small voice from the other side of the room.

"Oh, they abided by it," sa
ys Grandpa. "It's only recently that they've started really taking advantage and abusing us again."

"Then what went wrong?" I
ask louder than I intended.

He looks
at me before answering. "Clay outsmarted us. He had all of his men and all of our men sign the treaty in our own blood. I saw it hanging in Clay's office the other day, my signature is there on it. After the signatures he had his men seize all of us. We protested, but he said there was nothing in the Treaty about not killing the men of Newton. They tied us all up, slit our throats, and laid the corpses out on the ground for the town to see."

"But they didn't kill you," sa
ys Reuben and for once he doesn't sound drunk.

Grandpa is looking
down at his legs. "They decided I was part of the infirm indicated in the Treaty. They dragged me out of my chair and hung me up by my hands in the center of the courthouse where we'd all signed. Made me watch as they murdered my friends and neighbors. Then they cut me down and made me crawl through their blood while they pissed and spat on me."

The room was eerily silent and I notice everyone
is staring at my grandfather intently, even Mother.

"Ironically, they intended their act as an example. To terrorize us of course, but they warned us never to speak of that day. And we didn't, there was no point."

"Is there a point now? In speaking of it?" asks Miriam.

Grandpa pause
s so long that I think he isn't going to answer. He finally takes a deep breath and glances around. "We surprised them before and I think we could do it again. They don't expect us to do anything."

"But there's no men left," sa
ys our neighbor Candice. "They'll kill us all if we do anything."

"They can't kill us all," answer
s Broily. "We provide their food, their clothes, their shelter. Without us they have to go back on the road and none of them want that. Not anymore."

"But we need everyone in on this," add
s Doc Huck. "All it takes is one person saying something to a Protector and we're in trouble. Although they can't kill all of us, they'd certainly kill some of us as an example. We've got to be together on this."

"How are we supposed to fight those men?" ask
s Candice. "They'll just kill us and then where will our children be?"

"We fight them by fight
ing them," says Reuben and I am surprised to see a fierceness in his old bloodshot eyes.

"They'll never expect us to rise against them," sa
ys Grandpa. "We'll have surprise and numbers on our side. Most of the ammo for the guns is gone, so we'll make weapons in hiding to use."

This wasn't technically t
rue. I'd seen the Shrieker Bird's Eye kill a small black bear with a rifle last year. The animal had been hanging around the edge of the goat herd and we were sure the animal would eventually drag one off despite the dogs. I remember how the sound of the weapon had frightened me and everyone else. That was the first and only time I'd seen a gun. I hadn't been paying attention the last few minutes and realize that most of the objections had been talked down or reasoned with.

"So is there a plan or something?" ask
s Sarah.

Grandpa
nods. "We're still working on that, but I've got some ideas. We'll talk more in the days ahead. The important part of tonight was getting everyone's mind right for what is to come."

"We've stayed long enough," sa
ys Broily. "Don't want any of the Shriekers to get suspicious. Remember folks, don't talk about this outside this room and for God's sake don't talk to any of your sons or brothers who are working for the Shriekers. We don't know if they can be trusted."

"But we're going to save them, right?" ask
s Beatrice, Jonesy's mother.

Grandpa, Reuben,
Doc Huck, and Broily turn to each other. Rueben speaks to her kindly. "If we can. They're part of us, we'll try to bring them back in the fold."

I th
ink of Jonesy and some of the other Newton boys working for the Shriekers. I am certain some of them will fight against us. They have become drunk on power and don't consider themselves part of us anymore.

"That's enough for tonight," sa
ys Grandpa. "May God bless us and help us."

Some
grumble as they depart but several others say "amen." I peer around at the people and know I should be excited about what has happened tonight. This is what I wanted. What I set in motion.

Instead I feel
terrible, a sense of foreboding weighing me down like the kudzu slowly covering the world outside.

*******

As we make weapons we hide them in the Dead Houses in the Borderland. Clubs and spears are our most common instruments, but there is also an occasional flail or rusty knife.

Everyone is edgy. We
meet each other's eyes and then glance away as if afraid the Protectors can read our thoughts. There are more late night meetings after the Remembering, but they serve more to strengthen our resolve than to actually strategize.

Reaper
is watching me with hungry eyes, and it is somehow more frightening that he no long paws at me. It is as if he already considers me a possession, one he is making plans for, one he is waiting to take ownership of.

"You keep that
big idiot away from here," he says when Victor comes around to greet us. "Next time he won't be so lucky."

Victor seems
genuinely content. He is eating voraciously. Grins moronically at the children and plays with his rainmaker. At night his loud snores from the pallet in front of the fire testify to his sound relaxation.

Mother
just shakes her head. "This is probably as good as he's ever had it. Regular food, a warm bed to sleep in, and a roof over his head."

"He
's also not alone anymore," says Grandpa. "Being alone is a terrible feeling. I can't imagine how scared someone like him must have been out there alone."

"But even so he survived," says
Mother. "That just strikes me as miraculous."

"How
old do you think he is?" I ask.

"Older than you think," says
Grandpa. "I'd say he's at least forty."

"That m
eans he's an Old One." I am completely surprised.

Grandpa nod
s. "He was certainly alive from Before, probably a teenager when the Great Plague came. It's difficult to see him as that old because of the way he is, but he's been around."

"I wonder wha
t happened to his family?" I am always contemplating awful things for others without thinking much about what might happen to me, or those close to me.

"Sa
me as everyone else's," answers Mother harshly. "They either died in the plagues or were killed afterward by road gangs or rogue soldiers. Maybe they starved. Doesn't matter."

"I wish he could talk more," I say. "There's so much we don't know about him."

"And probably never will," says Grandpa. "The important thing is he's strong as an ox and works hard. Doesn't cause any trouble either."

I
see my mother's grimace and know what she's thinking about. "That wasn't his fault," I say. "Reaper was likely going to do something terrible if Victor hadn't stepped in to help."

"He might also have just groped at you
and let you go," she says.

"Then why did you pull out that knife
of yours?" I ask.

Grandpa
is shocked. Mother moves away without answering. She goes into her room, closing the door behind her.

"She pulled a knife on a
Shrieker?"

I nod. "
That's why he punched her in the face. If Victor hadn't distracted Reaper, he'd have killed her for daring to do such a thing."

Grandpa leans forward to poke absently at the fire before speaking.
"Things are starting to come apart. I think even the Shriekers know that. We can't go on like this much longer."

"When?"
I ask this nearly every night.

"Soon," he says. "We'll know when the time is right. We're almost ready."

"What are we going to do? How are we going to fight them?"

Grandpa smile
s at me and pats my hand. "Don't worry about that yet. We've got a plan. Just a few more pieces to get into place. Best get on to bed, Teal."

I want
to talk more. To figure out what is about to happen, but I know Grandpa will not be moved. He just pokes about in the fire with far off eyes.

I ge
t up to go to my room, hoping I can sleep. Maybe I will. It helps that Victor has stopped snoring.

*******

A week later I walk into Grandpa's shop to find tools, parts, and wires spread out all over every available surface. Almost compulsively tidy, Grandpa becomes agitated whenever things aren't in their proper place. True to form, I can see his nervous frustration. There are also several books on his desk.

"I knew you could read," I say
.

"Neve
r said I couldn't," he responds without looking at me.

I walk
over to examine at them. Running my finger down the page of the smallest of the books I see what looks like rows and rows of numbers.