The Protectors (9 page)

The room is deathly still.
"Come on up here," says Clay with a dangerous grin showing too much teeth.

"No," moans
Grandpa trying to rise. "It was me. It was me."

None hear him but
Mother and I. Yanking free of her grasp I make my way forward carefully trying not to step on anyone, pausing occasionally as a wave of dizziness washes over me. Soon I am standing at the base of the stage. Clay is in front of me and the pile of bodies is to my right. I hear the sound of murmuring behind me.

"Well, come on up here," Clay
waves at me with his pistol.

I measure
the stage mentally and know it is too high for me to climb in my current state. Turning to the left to walk up the stairs, I feel a searing agony in my head as my feet leave the ground. Screaming in pain, I'm deposited in a heap at Clay's feet by Reaper who has just lifted me up by my hair.

"Go ahead and take the load off," Clay says
pulling the chair he had kicked to the rear forward. "You must be very tired what with all the conniving you've been up to."

I
do
feel tired and just want to go to sleep. Sinking down into the chair I look out at the room. Meeting Mother's and Grandpa's eyes I feel a deep love I have never felt before. Wishing I could hug them now, I smile and wipe the tears from my eyes.

"Oh, tears won't do you
any good now," Clay says. "It's way too late for...what the hell is going on?"

There is
a commotion to my right and I look over to see Victor climbing up the stairs towards us, his rainmaker out before him like a protective talisman.

"No hurt
, Teal," he says.

"
Someone get that simpleton off the stage," Clay orders.

Reaper turns and stri
des purposefully towards the big man.

"No hurt
, Teal," Victor repeated.

"We're going to hurt you in a minut
e," Reaper shoves Victor.

The big man does
n't move.

Reaper pushes harder and I hear
a cascade sound. Looking over I see small stones pouring out the end of Victor's cylinder and onto the stage.

Oh no
. They've broken his rainmaker, I think. "It's okay Victor," I say. "Just go sit down, please."

Reaper grasps
the large knife at his belt in his fist and yanks it out. "I told you I'd kill you if you crossed me again."

What happens next seems to be in slow motion to me. Victor is
holding one hand out under the broken rainmaker as if trying to catch the last few stones. Miraculously a long thin metal object falls into his hand. He pulls the rest of the cylinder off and tosses it aside.

In Victor's hands i
s a long sharp two-handed sword. On the pommel is the unmistakable symbol of an eye. The sword flashes forward in a blur.

Reaper shifts
slowly back towards Clay and the arm that previously held the knife is now missing from the elbow down. Before he can take another step, Victor raises the sword to shoulder level and with a powerful swing takes Reaper's head off.

The room i
s still and nearly silent.

Victor dri
ves the bloody sword into Hellspawn's chest before yanking it free and moving forward to jab the tip of his sword into Thor's eye.

There i
s now screaming from the Protected and the Shriekers appear confused about whether they should attack this bloody apparition before them or flee.

Vict
or continues forward. He kicks Skull savagely in the groin and then drives the tip of his sword into the prostrate man's chest before turning to take the top of Bird's Eye head off. He follows this up by slamming the hilt of his sword savagely down on Stormchaser's skull.

Clay grabs
me by the front of my shirt and sticks the barrel of his pistol against the side of my head. "Stop or I'll shoot her."

The big man
slashes downward cutting off Irish's leg before spinning and slicing open Firebrand's abdomen.

"I'll
do it!" screams Clay.

Victor trips
Cowboy as the Shrieker tried to flee and then drives his sword through the man's lover back.

"I swear to God," shouts
Clay, "if you don't stop right now, I'll --"

The pistol fa
lls away from me and Clay collapses on the floor. I look down to see his headless body, his head having rolled off the stage and onto the pile of Protected corpses.

Victor is
past me and continuing in his carnage. I reach down and pry Clay's pistol out of his hand and stand. Mother is there suddenly holding me up. She reaches down and secures Reaper's big knife.

"Don't let any of them escape,"
Mother screams out over the crowd. The mass of women seemed to come to life slowly and then with growing intensity. Some of the Prospects have fled out the doors, but newly armed Protected are now chasing them.

Victor kills
Spike, a Prospect who has climbed up on stage, before turning to address the room in a voice as loud and strong as Broily's. "Show no mercy. The Prospects are not part of you. They are Shriekers and must die. Do it now."

I turn to stare
at the big man. "Victor? Is that really you?"

"It is, Teal," he answers
in a clear and intelligent voice.

"How is this possible,"
Mother asks.

Victor smiles and brings
the pommel of his sword up to his face. The eye on the hilt shown out clearly through the thin film of blood covering it. "We got your letters. The Knights of the Watch help when they can."

*******

Mother and I clean Grandpa's wound with some of Reuben's leftover peach alcohol recovered from the Shrieker House. We then carefully stitching his scalp back on. He sits stoically through it all, his hands clinching the arms of his wheelchair tightly.

My grandfather has
somehow become the de facto leader of Newton. There wasn't an election or even a discussion, people just started bringing their problems to him, and they did what he said. He told everyone to keep doing their Shift Work and to prepare for winter. Grandpa also directed us to repair the burned out Borderland around town by reloading the old booby-traps and digging out the debris from the stake pits.

We buried the
Shriekers in the big communal garden knowing they would make good fertilizer. The Protected we placed lovingly in the New Cemetery, the services, quick and simple. Snow is in the air and there is too much else to do.

Victor helps
. People at first look to him for guidance and answers, but he just shrugs and says, "It's not my town," or "I'm not staying here much longer," or "You need to learn to figure things out yourselves."

It is
strange to have such freedom all of the sudden. I'm sure most of the women act as I do, going about our routines out of habit, expecting the lash or a slap whenever we do anything wrong. We got rid of the Protectors, but their ghosts are still with us.

Victor
still sleeps in our house on the pallet in front of the fire although now he engages us in conversations and stories of his travels. Grandpa eagerly soaks up information and many nights Broily is here too, writing furiously on moldy paper with his left hand.

"I'll have to leave tomorrow," Victor announce
s abruptly one morning.

Mother, Grandpa, and I look at each other
in concern. "You can't leave," I finally say.

"I can and I will," he answers around a mouthful of bread.

"But we need you," I say.

"My fa
mily needs me more."

Mother was
surprised. "Your family?"

Victor chuckles
. "Margaret, I know you think I'm a vicious killer, not to be trusted, but I have a wife, two little girls, and a son waiting for me back east. I promised them I'd try to be home for Christmas."

"Christmas," I whisper reverently. We had of course heard the wonderful and fanciful stories of this mythical holiday, but never experienced it. The
Shrieker's had forbidden celebrations. "Can we have Christmas?" I ask Grandpa.

He nods slowly. "I don't see why not. Be good for us
, I reckon."

"You sure you don't w
ant to wait until spring?" asks Mother. "They'll be snow soon and it sounds like a long way."

"I appreciate the offer," sa
ys Victor, "but I've already stayed here too long. Tomorrow morning I'll take my leave, got a few preparations to make today."

Grandpa nod
s. "I can help you with that."

Victor gr
unts and keeps eating.

I
go about the day noticing things as if for the first time. Of course life seems different without the Shriekers, but I guess I had imagined that Victor would now be our new Protector. I see how open the Borderland is. Anyone could walk into Newton if they wanted. The pits, booby-traps, and barriers are good, but we need something more. Otherwise it will only be a matter of time before some other road gang or pillagers come through.

We need what Broily had called in one of his stories a militia. It would be years before the young boys were men, but I realize we women could fight too.
We had already. We would have to if we wanted to protect what was ours.

Like the dogs, I thought
, watching them patrol the edge of the goat herd. We'll need to patrol our perimeter. Even the Shriekers had gotten lazy and complacent, I realize. They weren't really protecting us at all.

We can do it, I decide. Newton does
n't need any outside help. We have everything we need. Mother will help. So will Sarah and the other girls.

Newton still gather
s each night after dinner for the Remembering, but the nature of the stories is starting to change. Others talk besides just Broily and now some of the stories are remembrances of the Shriekers and the things they had done. It still surprises us sometimes that they are gone.

"Polishing and cleaning their old motorcycles was somehow the worst," sa
ys Juliette, now without her Chit. "Most of what we had to do was to serve them or satisfy some urge, but taking care of the worthless bikes seemed like rubbing our faces in their complete control of us. I also think in some ways they missed those old days when there were able to ride on the roads."

"They'd even make the Prospects spend time sitting on the bikes," added Tammy. "As if they could experience riding that way and become like the
Shriekers."

Victor st
ands suddenly and stares out over us. The room becomes respectfully silent.

"You may have heard that I will be leaving tomorrow," he sa
ys.

Although this wasn't news to most people, a murmur of dismay spread through the crowded room.

"I'd like to tell you the story of the Knights of the Watch. Of simply the Watch as we call it and how it all began. Maybe it will help you."

Nearly everyone looks
at Broily at the mention of the Knights. Some surely feel guilt for doubting the old man. All are grateful for his sacrifice which made their freedom possible.

"At the End," sa
ys Victor, "we didn't understand what was happening. Didn't know it was the end of everything. We were so accustomed to others solving our problems that we sat back and watched things get worse. The police and military and government simply melted away or took from us. We waited almost too late to act."

Victor
glances around the room and grimaces. "It may be hard to believe, but back then we didn't know all our neighbors, sometimes not even those directly around us. I was a senior in high school then, preparing to go to college on a football scholarship. My family got the early T-path vaccine, my father was a doctor you see. They died anyway. I never found out why.

"By then there was no one to call for help. I nursed them
at home as long as I could once the hospitals closed down and then buried them together in our backyard. I hid in our house, eating what food we had while listening to the sirens and watching the smoke from the fires. I tried listening to the radio, but it got too frightening. Wasn't long before the electricity shut off anyway."

Victor shift
s nervously and I realize the telling of this story is painful for him.

"Armed men came to my door," Victor continue
s. "I didn't answer and they went away, but they came back. Again and again. I watched them through the windows for days on end and came to realize a curious thing. They weren't taking from anyone or harming people. I even saw them fight off a group of wild teenagers at the end of our street. Besides, I had to go out anyway by then, I was running out of food. You might not believe it, but back then I used to eat a lot."

People in the room chuckle.
Victor's appetite had taken on legendary status. I imagine that in the years to come when stories were told of him at the Remembering they would tell of how he ate whole goats at a single sitting and grazed among the kudzu vines like a cow.