*
The silence in the aftermath of the riotous outburst was deafening. People appeared unsure of what to do, or where to look.
Alexander stepped out into the street and walked towards the cowering young man, who shook as Alex approached, while his wild and bloodied eyes bulged in their sockets. Several of his teeth lay on the floor beside him in a pool of his own bodily fluids, and his left cheek was badly torn.
Alex crouched down beside him. He suspected that he was the first of the city folk to make eye contact.
The young man raised an arm to his face, ready to shield himself, but Alex took hold of his shuddering hand and slowly pushed it to the floor. Then he stood and looked around at the hundreds of furious faces.
A solid lump had settled in his throat. He sighed and forced a nod. “I haven’t been here,” he said. “I wasn’t here when you needed me.” He paused. “I can only beg your forgiveness. I’ve been…troubled. I know that all of you have been patient, that you’ve worked hard, that you’ve gone hungry. I know that I’ve failed you.”
He pointed down at the young man, and to his bleeding wounds. “But we are BETTER THAN THIS!” he bellowed. “We can never let this happen. We can never allow ourselves to fall this far. We can never BE this!”
Shame infected every face in sight. A thousand feet shuffled.
A faraway pigeon cooed. He gritted his teeth, determined to stay the course, but couldn’t help searching the rooftops for a bobbing silhouette. He pushed on despite himself. “We’re going to stay strong. We can get through this. I know that I haven’t been here when I should have. But from now on, I will be. I promise.”
Silence filled Main Street.
He swallowed. “We’re going to talk with this man. Talk with him. I want everybody back to the fields. We can be ready to reseed by the week’s end if we keep at it. We can get through this, but only together.”
He drew a long, calming breath, then crouched down once more and addressed the young man. “Who are you?”
The young man hesitated, his eyes darting from Alex to the mob. He seemed to weigh the danger of talking against that of being torn apart if he stayed quiet, and mumbled, “Charlie.” His missing teeth addled his words, but Alex could still make them out. “My name is Charlie.”
“Okay, Charlie. I need you to tell me where you came from.”
Charlie stiffened, clocked the crowd once more, and then sank back. “Manchester.”
“Who was with you?”
“Nobody. I—”
Alex cut him off with a sigh. “Charlie, don’t lie to me. If you spin a tale then the people behind me will kill you right here on this floor. But if you tell the truth, I promise that nobody will hurt you.”
Charlie looked horrified, his eyes darting into the crowd once more. He seemed to find no comfort amongst their faces, and swallowed audibly. “There were three of us. We were here to send a message.”
Alex nodded. “We’ve heard. This…Jason, he was with you?”
Charlie blinked. “Yes.”
Alex stood up, looking around at the others. He suspected that the crowd now consisted of over two-thirds of the city’s population, and more were still coming.
“Who brought him here?” he called.
There was a moment’s silence in which people looked around at each other, shrugging.
Then a call rang out. “I did.”
Alexander turned with the rest to see Lucian standing beneath a nearby doorway. His face was set and harsh, but his eyes remained placid. “I found him in the sewers. Leg was broken.”
Alex felt anger burn in his gut, but forced his expression to remain neutral.
Lucian came forwards without a word, parting the crowd in his wake, and crouched beside the young man. “Can you stand?”
Charlie shook his head. “Not a chance.”
Lucian and Alex grabbed him by the arms and lifted him to shoulder height. He groaned, making no effort to stand under his own power, and was half-dragged down the street. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, furious yet forlorn, as Charlie was taken away to the clinic.
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