Watershed

by Jane Abbott

  ‘You feel bad about that?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I muttered, closing my eyes. ‘Yeah, I feel bad about it.’ I was going to miss the little prick, despite what he’d done. But I couldn’t blame him.

  I heard Tate retreat to the door, and opened one eye. ‘Hey, Tate? What can you tell me about Cade?’

  He paused. ‘Alex’s husband? Why d’you want to know?’

  I raised myself on my elbows, still wincing. ‘I’m just curious about why she’s here, and not back in the Citadel with him.’

  It took a while for him to reply. ‘That’s her business, Jem.’

  ‘Yeah, I figured you’d say that.’

  ‘She’s here to help her brother. That’s all I can tell you.’

  ‘But you don’t like it, do you? Is that why you were so pissed off the other day?’

  It wasn’t exactly a wild guess. I’d noticed the strain building between the two of them over the last few days, Tate’s strange crankiness, her sharp commands to him.

  He looked bleak. ‘It’s not my place to say. But we all have our limits, Jem.’

  He opened the door, pausing again when I called out, ‘Even Ballard?’

  ‘Especially him,’ Tate replied.

  Excerpt ~ Letter #11

  I’ll never forget the first time Rachel found you fighting in the street and dragged you home. She was always more worried about Ethan than she was about you, even though you were the one with all the bruises! Later, when I asked you why you’d been fighting those other boys, you said you had to, because you could and Ethan couldn’t. Do you remember? I didn’t know then whether to get cross or be proud. I’m still not sure I made the right decision.

  10

  Time’s a funny thing. Even when you know it’s running out, you can fool yourself into thinking you have plenty, that there’s no hurry. Then, at the last, it sneaks up to catch you out, speeding you along so fast you can barely keep pace.

  More than a month had passed since Alex and I had left the compound, and things were changing. I no longer saw Ballard regularly; in fact I hadn’t seen him in days. Tate was increasingly agitated, and the few times I saw Alex she was quieter than ever. There were no more walks to the infirmary; there was no more time with Connor, no more reading. I remained locked away by myself, and I wasn’t real good company.

  I only knew when it was daylight because Tate brought a lamp with him every morning when he dropped off my meal. At night, he’d take it away again, leaving me in the dark. It was like I’d regressed a couple of weeks, except for two things: I wasn’t crippled by pain, and they no longer bothered to chain me up, not even to strap me down at night. I was forgotten, discarded and left to my own thoughts, none of them pleasant.

  Wishing I hadn’t been in such a hurry to give back the book, I spent my time exercising, doing whatever I could to take my mind off Garrick and what might be waiting for me should I choose to return. I knew he wasn’t dead, could feel it in my bones. It’d take more than a team of Disses, even organised ones like Ballard, to bring down Garrick. It’d take a fucking miracle.

  The room had begun to smell as bad as the previous one, the air thick and foul with the odours of sweat and shit and piss, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask to be moved or to wash. I didn’t want to show any weakness. Except I never showed any strength either. I never tried to take out Tate as he came and went. He was big, but I was betting he wasn’t slow, and there’d be nothing to gain. So instead I counted down the days – my days – to the very last morning when Tate, bulky and shadowy and sullen, banged a tray on the ledge and shone the lamp in my face. It was a hell of a way to be woken.

  ‘C’mon,’ he growled. ‘Ballard’s waiting for you.’

  He waited impatiently for me to eat and dress before he opened the door, and I looked at him. ‘No rope?’

  ‘Do you need one?’ he asked.

  ‘No.’ Even I knew we were way beyond that.

  This time he led the way and I followed, taking note of each turn, every side passage we passed, more to keep my mind occupied than anything else. We weren’t going back to the infirmary, that much I knew, or to Ballard’s quarters. The tunnel we followed sloped downhill, and the chill air smelled of earth and rot and dust and decay. Finally we rounded a corner and a dim light ahead grew steadily brighter. As we neared I could see Ballard and Alex waiting for us.

  There were no greetings, no exchange of meaningless words. It wasn’t that kind of meeting.

  I stared at Ballard. ‘I was kinda hoping you might be dead.’

  ‘It’s time, Jem,’ he replied, and my heart sank. He wasn’t going to like what I had to say, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to like his reaction. But as usual he surprised me, and thumbed at the door behind him.

  ‘In this room are four men. On the left is the Guard who maimed the boy. The other three are the ones who raped Marin. I’m giving you this opportunity to fulfil your promise to Connor, if you want to. But if you do, I’m going to take it as a sign that you’ve agreed to join us. Keep your promise and pledge another, renege on it and you’ll die. Here. Today. Am I making myself clear?’

  Ever the optimist, I asked, ‘Is there a third option?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, my friend. We’ve waited long enough and you’ve had plenty of time to think on it. The choice is yours.’

  ‘You’re forcing my hand,’ I pointed out. ‘You said my decision had to be made because I genuinely wanted to help you.’

  ‘And so it will be. This isn’t difficult, Jem. You can help Connor and me, and yourself. Or you can choose not to. That’s it.’

  ‘Who deals with the other three? You?’

  ‘Alex has asked to do it.’

  I glanced at her, but she wouldn’t meet my gaze. ‘And does she get to kill me too, if I refuse?’ She’d like that, I was sure.

  ‘No, Jem. I’ll do that myself,’ Ballard said. He sounded almost happy.

  I stared at the door, thinking it over, remembering my foolish promise and Connor’s rage, his pathetic bandaged stumps. Open your big mouth, Jem, and this is what happens.

  I nodded. ‘You don’t make it easy, do you?’

  ‘I told you, the most important choices are always the hardest. Your weapon is inside, on the table. One bow, one dart. Make it count.’

  He opened the door. Alex entered the room, but I hovered on the threshold, coz memory’s a bitch. It might not have been the same room, but it looked the same; stone floor, stone walls, freezing cold, except that now, instead of one half-naked man tied to a chair, there were four.

  ‘One more thing you need to know,’ Ballard said, and I turned. ‘You won’t be given the chance to tell Connor. You’ll do this because you want to, not because it’ll redeem you in his eyes.’

  ‘There’s always a catch,’ I said, though I hadn’t expected anything else. ‘But what’s stopping me from using that dart on Alex?’

  ‘Absolutely nothing. But I’m trusting you won’t. And so is she. Take your time. Make the right choice. I’ll be here.’

  I entered, and the door closed behind me. Alex was standing off to the right, near her intended victims. She had the knife out and just by the way she held it, I could tell she knew her stuff. But she made no move towards any of the men, just stood looking at them, while they eyed her with a weird mix of curiosity, contempt, and fear. It was a stand-off and I didn’t even glance at the table with its bow and dart, instead watching to see who’d be the first to break.

  People face death in different ways. Some joke about it, some jeer at it, some cry, some scream. And some do all those things and more, the stages of denial and acceptance stumbling over each other in their haste to be acknowledged. The three Guards who’d raped and mutilated Marin sized Alex up and then smirked at each other.

  ‘Whaddya gunna do with that, bitch?’ one sneered. ‘Pick our teeth?’

  ‘Maybe she’s got an itch needs scratching,’ said the next, laughing. ‘Right up her twat.’

  Alex tensed th
en, and I knew she was remembering Marin and her torn insides. She glanced at me, drawing the men’s gaze, and the first Guard couldn’t help but take a shot.

  ‘Might have known she’d need help. Useless fucking cunt.’ He spat at her to show his contempt, and Alex jumped back. She was nervous and I knew the longer she left it, the harder it’d be. They were already getting to her.

  The third man had said nothing and I didn’t even bother looking at the fourth, the one who’d cut off Connor’s hands. He could wait. I moved a couple of steps closer, but Alex shook her head in warning.

  ‘That’s right, mate. You do what the bitch says.’ This from the second man. Like he hadn’t said enough already.

  That seemed to decide it for her and she circled wide before coming in behind the first Guard. Grabbing his chin, she hauled his head back to expose his throat, pushing the point of the knife against his skin. I winced. This wasn’t going to be pretty or even quick. The man grunted and struggled, throwing his head about, maybe figuring he was already done for, and his strength caught her by surprise. Tightening her grip, she tried again, digging the point in and breaking the skin. He stilled suddenly, bleeding a little from the puncture wound, and whimpering.

  I approached carefully, coming up beside her. Her hand was steady, but she couldn’t seem to bring herself to lift the knife away so she could draw it back and slice him open.

  ‘Alex,’ I said. ‘You don’t have to do this. It won’t bring her back.’

  She didn’t look up from her victim, just stared down at his terrified, hate-filled face, his thick, dirty neck and her bright blade.

  ‘I know that,’ she hissed. ‘I’m not doing this for Marin. I’m doing it for me.’

  The man struggled again and she finally shifted the knife, pressing the edge of the blade to his skin. But her hand shook, so I moved behind her, reaching around to close mine over it.

  She tensed, jerking the knife, and the Guard cried out, feeling the sharp pressure.

  ‘Relax,’ I whispered into her ear, pressing her hand, and she sighed and leaned back against me.

  ‘I have to do this, Jem. I have to.’

  ‘I know, but not like this. Let go of his chin,’ I told her, and with my other hand I grasped the man’s hair, twisting it hard when he struggled. ‘Push his head forwards, that’s it, over the blade. Keep it tucked in there. That’s good. Now, ready?’

  She drew a breath and nodded, and together we pulled the blade across in a single sweep, sharp and deep, severing the arteries that’d moved to the front of his neck. Much quicker and easier than if she’d kept his head back. Cleaner too. The blood spilled and washed, staining his chest and groin, and he jerked a bit until he went limp. The world was minus one animal and no one was going to make a fuss about it. The second man pissed himself then, dribbling on the floor, and the third began whispering to a god who didn’t give a shit. We ignored them, both of us still holding the knife, my hand on hers, and I felt her tremble against me.

  ‘Feel better?’ I asked her.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You right to do the others?’

  She nodded then shook her head. ‘I – I don’t think –’

  I wasn’t surprised. I had no doubt that Alex could fend for herself, that in the face of adversity she’d never hesitate, using whatever was to hand. Even a rock. But killing a man who’s trying to hurt you isn’t the same as killing one who’s not. That’s execution, and it wasn’t for everyone.

  ‘Shh. It’s okay, you did real good. Go tell your brother I might be a while.’

  ‘Jem, what will you do?’ she asked, but I shook my head. If I’d known the answer to that, I wouldn’t have been there. I lifted my hand from hers, and for a second I imagined her plunging the blade into me. But she just held it out and I heard Ballard’s voice.

  I trust that you won’t. And so does she.

  Grasping the hilt, taking the knife from her, I held it low and point down. She was safe. But then, I reckon she’d always known it. From the moment I’d threatened to kill her in this very room and she’d told me I wouldn’t, she’d known it. Maybe she’d known it even before then, out in the Hills. Why was it I was always the last to know anything?

  I watched her leave and close the door behind her. The second man swivelled his head side to side, pulling against his bonds, trying to see me.

  ‘Please don’t kill me,’ he whined. ‘Please –’

  Putting the blade to his neck, I pushed his head down too. He barely even struggled.

  ‘This isn’t your lucky day, mate,’ I said, slitting his throat, leaving him to bleed out while I dealt with the next one. The first might’ve been for Alex, but the other two were for Marin.

  The fourth Guard started to twitch then, shifting on his chair and straining at the ties, but he didn’t beg and I was grateful for that. I hated the whiners. Wiping the blade clean on the dead man’s trousers, I tucked it into my trousers, the steel a cold comfort against my skin. The man eased his fidgeting and I could sense his rising hope. I crossed to the small table, to that altar with its small, deadly offerings; brushing the bow with my fingers, I sighed with longing. There are things that define a man, lend him credence and make him real. Objects, actions, words – the tools of his trade. Some men have none, others have many, and there are those for whom the tool is simply that, desired but not really needed. My weapons had been taken from me the day I’d been brought here and yet, since then, I’d killed four people. The bow was my talisman; a symbol of what I was, not what I could do.

  Inserting the dart, I strapped the weapon onto my arm and flexed my hand before hooking the trigger over my thumb. It felt good, and so did I. Whole again.

  Turning back to the Guard, perching on the edge of the table, I asked, ‘Do you know who I am?’

  He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the bow and licking his lips. If I’d taken the time to think about it, I might’ve found the situation almost amusing: to be standing where Ballard had been a few weeks ago, questioning a man who was sitting as I’d sat. I’d been afraid then too. I’d squirmed and strained at my bonds, just as he was doing now. Same game, different lives. But there wasn’t much fun to be had.

  ‘I am Jeremiah. And I am a Watchman.’ I saw his eyes widen, but he was no use to me scared. I needed to prod him into the next stage. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Fletcher,’ he said, his voice so hoarse and low I had to strain to hear it.

  ‘Fletcher,’ I repeated. ‘That’s a good name. D’you know why I’m here, Fletcher?’

  He kept staring at my arm. ‘You’re going to kill me.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re gunna die. But I don’t know yet if I’ll be the one doing it. See, this isn’t about you. It’s about me.’

  ‘I – I don’t understand,’ he said, wriggling on the chair.

  ‘No, me neither,’ I said, pushing away from the table. ‘But the way I see it I’m fucked, no matter what. Either I kill you and die after, or I don’t and die now. That’s my choice. What d’you think I should do?’

  ‘I don’t know, I don’t –’

  Gesturing at the three bodies beside him, I asked, ‘D’you know what those men did?’ He nodded and I took a step towards him. ‘D’you think they deserved to die?’

  ‘Yes – no! I don’t know!’

  ‘Don’t seem to know much, do you, Fletch? What about you? You think you deserve to die?’

  ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘No? A few weeks ago you caught some kid stealing a bit of food and you chopped off his hands. Just a kid, Fletcher. Harmless and hungry. You took his hands and now he can’t even hold his dick to piss. I wouldn’t call that nothing, would you?’

  ‘I don’t remember. There are so many and the law says –’

  ‘The law – if you wanna call it that – says one hand. But you took both, and that’s just greedy. And cruel. And I’ve killed a lot of people for a hell of a lot less.’

  I raised my h
and, aiming for his head and he ducked it down, snivelling.

  It’s time to put your skills to work killing those who deserve it. Ballard’s voice, predicting this moment; I shook my head to clear it.

  ‘But like I said, this isn’t about you. I made a promise to that boy, Fletcher. It was real stupid, but I promised him that I’d kill you. And now here we are. So I need you to help me decide what to do. Should I keep my promise, or shouldn’t I?’

  ‘Go to hell,’ he said. And there it was, in his sudden sneer and his narrowed eyes, the face I’d been waiting to see: the face of a man who’d maim a child.

  ‘I’m pretty sure we’re both already there,’ I assured him. ‘Tell me what you know about Ballard.’

  ‘Ballard?’ The question caught him by surprise, and he took a moment to answer. ‘I dunno. He disappeared a couple of months ago. Him and his fuck buddy.’

  ‘Tate?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s him. Word is they were snatched and killed. Two other Guards as well. And good fucking riddance.’

  Tate and Ballard were lovers? That was news, but of no concern to me. Of more interest was the fact that Fletcher had no idea Ballard still lived. Which meant it hadn’t been Ballard or Tate who’d brought these four in.

  ‘What’s wrong, Fletcher? You got a thing against men fucking men?’

  ‘Why, Watchman? You one of them too?’

  I shrugged. ‘Dunno, never tried it. Why don’t you tell me what I’m missing?’

  ‘Fuck you!’ he said.

  ‘Nah. Thanks for the offer though.’ I smiled, all friendly like. ‘What did you mean when you said good riddance?’

  ‘Why should I tell you? I’m dead anyway, right?’

  ‘Because if you don’t, I’m going to use this knife on you and you’re gunna find out there’re lots of ways to come close to dying.’

  I met his glare, keeping calm. I’d told Ballard I never tortured people, but I was willing to make an exception for Fletcher. Fletcher wasn’t people. But he caved quicker than I thought.

  ‘Ballard was old school, always banging on about how the Guard are s’posed to protect the people. Kept going on about nobility and honour and shit. Like it meant something. Like we cared.’