Monsters of Men (23 page)

[T
ODD
]

There’s blood everywhere.

Across the grass in the front garden, on the small path leading up to the house, all over the floor inside, way more blood than you’d think coulda come outta actual people.

“Todd?” the Mayor says. “Are you all right?”

“No,” I say, staring at all the blood. “What kinda person would be all right?”

I am the Circle and the Circle is me,
I think.

The Spackle attacks keep coming. Every day since the first one on the power stayshun, eight days in a row, no let up. They attack and kill the soldiers who are out trying to drill wells to get us much-needed water. They attack and kill sentries at night at random points on the edge of town. They even burnt down a whole street of houses. No one died, but they set another street alight while the Mayor’s men were trying to put out the first one.

And all this time, there still ain’t no reports from the squadrons to the north and south, both of ’em just sitting there twiddling their thumbs, no sound of Spackle passing ’em to make it into town or on the way back from another successful attack. Nothing from Viola’s probes neither, like everywhere you look, they’re somewhere else.

And now they’ve done something new.

Parties of townsfolk, usually accompanied by a soldier or two, have been going thru the outlying houses one by one, scrounging whatever food they can find for the storehouse.

This party got met by Spackle.

In broad daylight.

“They’re testing us, Todd,” the Mayor says, frowning, as we stand at the doorway of the house, some way east of the cathedral ruins. “This is all leading up to something. You mark my words.”

The bodies of thirteen Spackle are strewn about the house and the yard. On our side, there’s a dead soldier in the front room and I can see the remains of two dead townsfolk, both older men, thru the door of the pantry, and a woman and a boy who died hiding in the bathtub. A second soldier lies in the garden, being worked on by a doctor, but he ain’t got one of his legs no more and there’s no way he’s long for this world.

The Mayor walks over to him and kneels down. “What did you see, Private?” he asks, his voice low and almost tender in a way I know myself. “Tell me what happened.”

The private’s breath is all in gasps and his eyes are wide and his Noise is a thing you just can’t bear looking at, filled with Spackle coming at him, filled with soldiers and townsfolk dying, filled most of all with how he ain’t got one of his legs no more and how there ain’t no going back from that, not never ever ever–

“Calm yourself,” says the Mayor.

And I hear the low
buzz
. Twisting into the private’s Noise, trying to settle him down, trying to get him to focus.

“They just kept coming,” the private says, still pretty much gasping twixt each word but at least he’s talking. “We’d fire. And they’d fall. And here’d come another one.”

“But surely you must have had warning, Private,” the Mayor says. “Surely you heard them.”

“Everywhere,” the private gasps, arching his head back at some new invisible pain.

“Everywhere?” the Mayor says, voice still calm but the
buzz
getting louder. “What do you mean?”

“Everywhere,”
the soldier says, his throat really grabbing for air now, like he’s talking against his will. Which he probably is. “They came. From everywhere. Too fast. Running for us. Full speed. Firing their sticks. My leg. My LEG!”

“Private,” the Mayor says again, working harder on the
buzz
–

“They just kept coming! They just kept–”

And then he’s gone, his Noise fading fast before stopping altogether. He dies, right there in front of us.

(I am the Circle–)

The Mayor stands up, his face all annoyed. He takes a long last look at the scene, at the bodies, at the attacks he don’t seem able to predict or stop. He’s got men around him, waiting for him to give ’em orders, men who look increasingly nervous as the days go on and there ain’t a battle in front of ’em they can fight.

“Come, Todd!” the Mayor finally snaps and off he stomps to where our horses are tied and I’m running after him before I even stop to think that he’s got no right to command me.

{VIOLA}

“You sure you ain’t got nothing?”
Todd asks over the comm. He’s riding Angharrad behind the Mayor, away from an attack on a house outside of town, the eighth in a row, and I can see the worry and weariness on his face even in the little screen.

“They’re hard to track,” I say, lying on the bed in the healing room
again,
my fever up
again,
so consistently I haven’t even been able to visit Todd. “Sometimes we see little glimpses of them, but nothing useful, nothing we can follow.” I lower my voice. “Plus, Simone and Bradley are keeping the probes closer to the hilltop now. The townsfolk are sort of demanding it.”

And they are. It’s so crowded up here now there’s almost no room to move. Very poor-looking tents, made of everything from blankets to rubbish bags, stretch all the way down to the main road by the empty riverbed. Plus, things are growing scarce. There are streams near here, and Wilf brings up vats of water twice a day so our water supply problems are less than what Todd says they’re facing in the city. But we’ve only got the food the Answer was keeping for itself, supply for 200 that’s now got to feed 1500. Lee and Magnus keep leading hunting parties, but it’s nothing compared to the stored food in New Prentisstown, guarded heavily by soldiers.

They’ve got enough food but not enough water.

We’ve got enough water but not enough food.

But neither the Mayor nor Mistress Coyle would even consider leaving the places where they’re strongest.

Worse, rumour spreads almost instantly in a group of people this close together, and after the attacks began on the town, people started thinking the Spackle would attack us next, that they were already surrounding the hilltop, ready to close in and kill us all. They weren’t, there’s been no sign of them near us, but the townsfolk keep asking what we’re doing to keep them safe, saying it’s our responsibility to protect everyone on the hill first, before the town below.

Some of them have even started sitting in a sort of half-circle near the bay doors of the scout ship, not saying anything, just watching what we do and reporting it back along the hilltop.

Ivan’s usually sitting right up front. He’s even started calling Bradley “The Humanitarian”.

And he doesn’t mean it in a nice way.

“I know what you mean,”
Todd says.
“The feeling ain’t any better down here.”

“I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

“Likewise.”

“Any news?” Mistress Coyle says, coming into the healing room as Todd hangs up.

“You shouldn’t be listening to people’s private conversations.”

“There’s nothing on this planet that’s private, my girl. That’s the whole problem.” She gives me a lookover as I lie on the bed. “How’s your arm?”

My arm hurts. The antibiotics have stopped working, and the red streaking is spreading again. Mistress Lawson left me here with a new combination bandage, but even I could see she was worried.

“Never you mind,” I say. “Mistress Lawson’s doing a great job.”

Mistress Coyle looks at her feet. “You know, I’ve had some success on the infections with a set of timed–”

“I’m sure Mistress Lawson will do that when she’s ready,” I interrupt. “Did you want something?”

She lets out a long sigh, as if I’ve disappointed her.

This is how the past eight days have all gone, too. Mistress Coyle refusing to do anything other than what Mistress Coyle wants to do. She keeps herself so busy with the running of the camp – sorting out food, treating the women, spending an awful lot of time with Simone – that there never seems to be a chance to talk about peace. When I do pin her down on the rare occasions I’m not stuck in this stupid bed, she says she’s waiting, that peace can only come at the right moment, that the Spackle will make their move and the Mayor will make his and then and only then can we move in and make peace.

But somehow, it always sounds like peace for some of us and not necessarily everybody else.

“I wanted to talk to you, my girl,” she says, looking me in the eye, maybe seeing if I’ll look away.

I don’t. “I want to talk to you, too.”

“Then let me go first, my girl,” she says.

And then she says something I never expected in a million years.

[T
ODD
]

“Fires, sir,” Mr O’Hare says, not a minute after I hang up with Viola.

“I am not in fact blind, Captain,” the Mayor says, “but thank you once again for pointing out the obvious.”

We’ve stopped on the road back into town from the bloody house cuz there are fires on the horizon. Some of the abandoned farmhouses on the north hill of the valley are burning.

At least I hope they’re abandoned.

Mr O’Hare’s caught up to us with a group of about twenty soldiers, who look as tired as I feel. I watch ’em, reading their Noise. They’re all ages, old and young, but all old in the eyes now. Hardly any of this group wanted to be soldiers but were forced into it by the Mayor, forced from families, from farms and shops and schools.

And then they started seeing death every day.

I am the Circle and the Circle is me,
I think again.

I do it all the time now, reaching for the silence, making the thoughts and memories go away, and most of the time it works on the outside, too. People can’t hear my Noise, I can
hear
’em not hearing me, just like Mr Tate and Mr O’Hare, and I gotta think that’s part of the reason the Mayor showed me, thinking to make me one of his men.

Like that’s ever gonna happen.

I ain’t told Viola bout it, tho. I don’t know why.

Maybe cuz I ain’t
seen
her, which is something I’ve
hated
about the past eight days. She’s stayed up on the hilltop to keep tabs on Mistress Coyle but every time I call she’s in that bed and looking paler and weaker and I
know
she’s sick and getting sicker and she ain’t telling me about it, probably so I don’t worry, which only makes me worry
more
cuz if something’s wrong with her, if something
happens
to her–

I am the Circle and the Circle is me
.

And everything calms down a bit.

I ain’t told her. I don’t want her to worry. I got it under control.

Boy colt?
Angharrad asks nervously under me.

“It’s okay, girl,” I say. “We’ll be home soon.” I wouldn’t have taken her out if I’d known how bad the scene at the house was gonna be. She only let me back up on her two days ago and she still starts at the slightest snap of a twig.

“I can send men up to fight the fires,” Mr O’Hare says.

“There’d be no point,” the Mayor says. “Let them burn.”

Submit!
Juliet’s Joy screeches underneath him at no one in particular.

“I’ve
got
to get a new horse,” the Mayor mutters.

And then he lifts his head in a way that makes me notice.

“What?” I say.

But he’s looking round, first to the path back to the bloody house, then to the road into town. Nothing’s changed.

Except the look on the Mayor’s face.

“What?”
I say again.

“Can you not hear–?”

He stops again.

And then I do hear it–

Noise–

Noise that ain’t human–

Coming from all sides–

Everywhere,
like the soldier said–

“They wouldn’t,” the Mayor says, his face pinching with anger. “They wouldn’t
dare
.”

But I can hear it clearly now–

We’re surrounded, as quickly as that.

Spackle are coming straight for us.

{VIOLA}

What Mistress Coyle says to me is, “I never apologized to you for the bomb at the cathedral.”

I don’t say anything back.

I’m too astonished.

“It wasn’t an attempt to murder you,” she says. “Nor did I think your life was worth less than anyone else’s.”

I swallow hard. “Get out,” I say and I’m surprised at myself. It must be the fever talking. “Right
now
.”

“I was hoping the President would look through your bag,” she says. “He’d take out the bomb and that would be the end of our problems. But I also thought it would only come into play if you were captured. And if you were captured, you were already likely dead.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make.”

“It was, my girl.”

“If you’d asked me, I might have even said–”

“You’d do nothing that might harm your boy.” She waits for me to contradict her. I don’t. “Leaders must sometimes make monstrous decisions,” she says, “and my monstrous decision was that if your life was likely to be lost on an errand
you
insisted on taking, then I would at least take the chance, however slim, to make your death worth it.”

I can feel how red my face is getting and I begin to shake from both fever and pure hot anger. “That’s only
one
way it could have worked out. There are a whole bunch of other things that could have happened, all of which end up with me and Lee blown to bits.”

“Then you would have been a martyr for the cause,” Mistress Coyle says, “and we would have fought in your name.” She looks at me hard. “You’d be surprised at how powerful a martyr can be.”