by King, Ryan
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 means he's an Old One." I am completely surprised.
Grandpa nods. "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 what 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.
"Same 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 smiles 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 get 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.
"Never 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.
"What's this?" I ask.
"An almanac," he answers. "It tells me that tonight should be cold and a full moon. With any luck it will be a clear sky, maybe we'll get a good wind too."
My hand jerks back from the book and I freeze for a moment. "How can a book tell you that? Is it magic?"
"I've told you before, Teal. There's no such thing as magic. It's just a book that you can use to predict future weather based on past data. It's not looking into the future, only making a calculated prediction from sound scientific measurements."
Steering clear of the smaller book I touch pages of the three larger ones, all are open to sections showing lines intersecting with numbers and symbols.
"Wiring schematics," Grandpa says. "They tell me how to wire up the speaker to do what I want it to do."
Down on the floor there are buckets filled with broken glass and sharp gravel. I am trying to take in everything, figure out what I can. "What about this stuff? This is not electronics."
Grandpa frowns and turns away. "No. That is what I hope will give us an edge tonight."
"Tonight?" I ask as a heaviness settles into my stomach. "What will the gravel and glass do?"
He points to the inside of the large open speaker. "Inside there will be the normal speaker parts, but also explosives and a radio controlled detonator. The gravel and glass will be packed around it all to serve as projectiles that should at least wound anyone nearby when it goes off."
There was so much of what he was saying that doesn't make sense to me, but one part is clear. "But what about the Chit Girls? They'll be in there too."
That frequent sadness pulls at Grandpa's expression. "We're going to try to warn them, but we're not sure which can be trusted. A few are with us, but they've warned us to be wary of the rest."
"But they're part of us. They're not with the Shriekers."
"That's true, but some of those women are so beat down that they would never think of crossing their masters. That's one of the crimes of the Chit and the abuse it brings. It tends to take away your free will while making you grateful for the degradation."
"It doesn't seem right."
"Nothing about this situation is right. We have to make hard choices here and consider the greater good. If we're going to succeed we can't take any chances that someone might tip the Shriekers off."
I pick up a handful of glass and squeezed it lightly in my hand. As I opened my hand again I see a thin line of blood on my palm. There is no pain, just that small red slash. I tell myself that hopefully, there will be no pain for any innocent harmed by Grandpa's speaker. I am probably lying to myself. The broken glass with my blood on it trickles back into the pail.
"I need you to go to Reuben's for me. Tell him it will be tonight and to send everything he has."
"Everything of what?"
"He'll know. Now go, Teal, and be careful."
I already know to be careful, still I heed his words anew. Staying within the shelter of buildings as much as possible I watch carefully for Protectors before walking quickly to the next building and repeating the process. All the while my heart feels like it's beating too fast and I debate for perhaps the hundredth time if I have done right by setting all this into motion.
Reuben's house is easy to find. Like our home it has a small shed in the back, but this one has wood piled up around the outside along with baskets of rotting and half frozen peaches. The heavy smell of fermentation makes me wrinkle my nose.
I knock on the outer door lightly and then enter. Reuben is tending a fire under a large enclosed copper bowl. He wears a thick leather apron and dirty gloves.
"Teal," Reuben is not surprised. "On an errand from your grandfather I suspect."
He also is not drunk. "Yes. Grandpa said tonight is the night and to send everything you got."
Reuben nods and goes back to his work.
"All of what? What are you sending and to where?"
"Peach hard liquor, best in town," Reuben answers grinning. "Wine goes further, but the hard stuff is stronger. We want the Shriekers to have as little of their senses as possible when the time comes."
I thought of that handful of bloody glass. "Why not just poison them?"
Now Reuben is surprised and possibly there is a slight bit of respect. "A good idea. We talked about it, but none of us knows enough about poisons."
"Lots of things are poisonous," I say. "Surely we could put something in."
"Yes, but it wouldn't be tasteless. No one knows of any poison that can be added that won't alter the taste. And for all their lack of sophistication, the Shriekers like their alcohol to taste a certain way. I earned myself enough whippings to learn that."<
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I had not been in here before. Various tubes and containers are tucked everywhere. A clear liquid drips into a large ceramic jug next to others of its like. The fumes are starting to make me dizzy.
"Was there something else?" he cocks his head. "You want to try a little bit?"
"No," I retreat towards the door.
"Suit yourself," his back is already to me as he keeps working.
Closing the shed door I pull my coat up around my neck to keep out the bitter wind. Making my way to my Afternoon Shift in the goat field I try not to think about what will happen to us if we are found out.
Or fail.
*******
The Old Ones and most of those Of Age are noticeably absent from the Remembering that night, all except Broily who has to play his part.
"I want to go with you," I'd told Grandpa.
"We need to keep up appearances as much as possible," he answered. "Every house has to have someone here to put the little ones to bed and settled down. We don't want them worrying. You've got Victor to take care of."
"But after he's asleep, can I come join you?"
Grunting he nodded his head reluctantly. "Yes. We're gathering at your grandmother's old bridal shop. Come when you can."
"You won't start without me will you?"
"No, it will likely be late," he answered sternly. "You seem in a damn hurry to get yourself killed."
I shake my head. "I'm responsible for all this. At least in part. I should be there, no matter how it turns out."
His eyes soften. "You're not responsible. I know you think that, but we would have had to do something eventually. You just helped me see the truth. No matter how things turn out tonight, this is not your doing or your fault."
"You sound as if you expect us to fail."
"No, this is a good plan. The best one we could come up with, but it hinges on women and girls being willing to fight the Shriekers. They think they can, but until the actual moment, who knows? Very few of us here have ever dared defy them or remember how to fight. There's a lot of ingrained submission in this town. Success will depend on whether we can overcome that habit or not."
I thought of Mother with her knife and knew she would fight. I hope she doesn't do it alone and am determined that at least she will have me by her side.
"It's dark and we have to go now," Grandpa says. "After the Remembering, and once Victor is bedded down, you make your way to the shop."
Now I am sitting in the Meeting Hall and listening to Broily drone on. Normally fascinated by his tales, I can't concentrate tonight. Most of the room seems pensive and out of sorts. Small children cry or squeal and older siblings react sternly, worry on their faces.
"The cities were the worst," says Broily. "Once the government had broken down, not even food subsidies arrived. Millions of people crammed into sprawling urban areas with not enough food and water, even after most had died off. Transportation had ceased so nothing arrived and it was impossible to leave. Groups of desperate men and women banded together and preyed on each other."
"And everyone had to eat bodies," says little Samantha. "That's nasty."
"That mostly came later," answers Broily, "although I'm sure some did terrible things to survive. Fires raged in the cities day and night. The fumes and smoke killed many and drove more away from shelter and into areas where they were easy prey for the gangs."
"Road gangs?" asks Bobby a young teenager.
"These were just gangs. The road gangs had motorcycles and were already around before the End. When the world started to fall apart, they roamed the highways killing and robbing those trapped in long lines of cars. They had nowhere to go and, unlike the cars, the motorcycles could make their way through the packed lines of stationary vehicles."
"Is that what the Shriekers did?" asks Jenny, a little redhead.
"I imagine it was," says Broily, "but we don't know much about them before they came here."
"And now they protect us," says Jenny cheerfully. "My momma says that without the Protectors we'd all be dead. We pray for them every night."
"That's very good," says Broily with the tired Sad One smile. "We should all pray for each other this night and for our town. Now I think that's enough for tonight. Off to bed, little ones."
"What about the Knights of the Watch?" asks Samantha in the stalling tactic that never fails.
"Not tonight," the old man surprises us all. "Now everyone go off to bed, your mothers will be along soon, there're doing important work tonight."
The children and older siblings quietly make their way out of the Meeting Hall and back to the Dormitory or their homes. Victor walks silently beside me and I am grateful for his presence. We both look up at the clear sky and the stars that seemed to go on forever.
"What wrong, Teal?" Victor asks suddenly.
"Nothing's wrong," I answer surprised at his intuitiveness.
"Where Miss Margaret? Where Grandpa?"
"They're busy doing something for the Protectors," I answer. "They'll be home soon, now let's get inside out of the cold."
I stir up the fire and put on another log. On second thought, I add another just in case we are gone longer than I expect. Laying out Victor's pallet I look at him expectantly, and he dutifully takes off his boots and lies down in front of the fire cradling his rainmaker in his arms. After draping a blanket over his huge shoulders I sit in Grandpa's chair.
"You stay with me?" asks Victor.
"I'll be right here," I lie. "Just go to sleep."
I wait until I hear his loud snores before arising. Starting to walk out the door I stop and stare at Victor for a few minutes, wondering what will happen to him if we don't return. On impulse I walk over and gently kiss him on the forehead and brush the hair out of his face. He smiles and rolls over.
Putting on my coat, I walk out the door of our home into the expectant darkness.
*******
At first I think they are all gone, but then I see the slight movement in the back of the bridal shop. I have forgotten how large the interior is and the fact that there are storerooms in the back. Nearly eighty people are crammed together, makeshift spears, clubs, and axes in shaking hands or leaning against walls.
Grandpa and Mother are the closest to the front. He is in his wheelchair and she stands behind him. Both are looking out the shattered front windows at the Shrieker House across the courthouse lawn. He has a blanket in his lap against the cold, but I can tell there is something bulky under the blanket.
"When?" I ask.
"Not yet," Grandpa says. "We want them to be as tipsy as possible. The music gets louder as they get drunker. We have many hours to go yet. Just relax."
I pace for a while and talk to the other girls, but everyone is too nervous for conversation. Finally, I go and sit down near Grandpa and Mother, leaning back against the side of his wheelchair and burrowing under the edge of the blanket in his lap.
I dream I'm in the goat field and it's a beautiful day. The goats and dogs are all around me and I'm the only human in sight. Worriedly I search the perimeter for the Protectors or other girls, but I am alone and it's getting dark. A familiar sound makes me squint through the dim light. A faint growl. Soon all the dogs take up the warning. I look for the threat, but see none and notice the dogs have surrounded me and the goats. They are growling at us. A dog leaps on a baby goat and tears its throat out and I yell for him stop. The goats are in a panic now bleating and screaming in fear and pain as the dogs attack from all directions. Suddenly it is quiet and all the goats are dead. I am surrounded by a ring of hungry dogs with glowing eyes. Turning, I look for a way out as they stalk forward. I scream as the dogs leap and bear me to the ground.
Someone is shaking my shoulder. Awaking with a start I realize the music is much louder. There is also activity in the shop. Small groups of women are leaving together carrying their makeshift weapons.
"It's time," says Mother her hand resting on my shoulder. Her hand moves from my shoulder to my cheek
and she smiles so tenderly at me. Then she is gone.
"Where's Mother going?" I ask.
"The women have selected your mother to be in charge of the east section of the perimeter," Grandpa explains. "That's right behind the Shrieker House and the route they might try to escape."
"Where's my sector?"
"You'll stay with me."
"But I want to fight too," I protest and search around for a weapon.
"Oh, we'll fight, but you're going to help me first."
"Help with what?"
Instead of answering he pulls the blanket off his lap. I notice he is wearing the thick leather caps over his stumps that he uses whenever the wheelchair is impractical. I also see a strange contraption in his lap. He picks up a heavy round circular metal object that is somehow familiar.
"An alternator, only smaller," he says. "You'll remember I said it creates electricity and that's what we need to set it off."
I didn't have to ask what was going to be set off. A chill runs down my back, but I take the proffered object from his hands. Two wires run from the alternator to the back of a small plastic device with an antenna sticking up that fits in Grandpa's hand.
"When I say, you stick that under one arm and turn the hand crank on the end like your life depends on it."
We stare out at the Shrieker House silently for long pregnant minutes. "I guess that's long enough," Grandpa sighs. "Start cranking, Teal."
It is awkward and difficult. The crank doesn't want to turn and I almost drop the alternator, but once it gets going it is easier to crank. Soon I can feel the wheel inside the metal casing spinning with a hiss.
Grandpa holds up the device in his hand and closes his eyes. I can see his lips moving. He opens them again. "No one likes a coward," he says and presses the side of the plastic device. A light brightens the face of it and a small bell noise sounds. Grandpa lets go of the device and lays it in his lap.
For nearly a second nothing happened. Then we see the inside of the Shrieker House grow brighter before the front windows blow outwards spewing fire and glass. A deep roar soon follows along with a rumble in the ground.