Monsters of Men (26 page)

The Mayor sinks to one knee, hand on his head, blood spilling twixt his fingers, a
whine
in the air coming from his Noise–

But I’m already turning to Mr O’Hare and yelling, “Get a line of men firing, now, now, NOW!”

And I’m feeling the
buzz
a bit but I don’t know if it’s my words working or if he sees what needs to be done but he’s already leaping and shouting to the soldiers nearest him to line up, to get their effing rifles in the air, to FIRE–

And as the gunshots start ripping thru the air again and as the Spackle start falling again and moving back, tripping over themselves in the sudden change, I see Mr Tate running up to us and I don’t even let him open his mouth–

“Put that fire OUT!” I yell.

And he looks at the Mayor, still kneeling, still bleeding, and then he gives me a nod, and starts yelling at another group of soldiers to get buckets, to save our water and food–

And the world is taking off all round us, screaming and yelling and tearing itself to pieces and there’s a line of soldiers now pressing forward, pushing the Spackle back from the water tank–

And I’m standing over the Mayor, who’s kneeling there, holding his head, the blood seeping out all thick-like and I ain’t kneeling down next to him, I ain’t seeing if he’s all right, I ain’t doing nothing to help him.

But I find I ain’t leaving him neither.

“You hit me, Todd,” I hear him say, his voice as thick as his blood.

“You needed to be hit, you idiot! You were gonna get everyone killed!”

He looks up at that, his hand still to his head. “I was,” he says. “You were right to stop me.”

“No effing kidding.”

“But you did it, Todd,” the Mayor says, breathing heavy. “For a minute there, when the moment called for it. You were a leader of men.”

And then the water tank collapses.

{VIOLA}

“There’s been a big attack,” Bradley says as we run towards him.

“How big?” I say, reaching immediately for my comm.

“There was a bright flash on one of the probes and then–”

He stops because we hear another sound.

Screaming at the edge of the forest.

“What
now
?” Simone says.

Voices rise at the line of trees, and we see people standing up from their campfires and more screams–

And Lee–

Lee–

Stumbling out of the crowd–

Covered in blood–

Holding his hands to his face–

“LEE!”

And I’m running as fast as I can, though the fever’s slowing me down and I can’t catch my breath and Bradley and Mistress Coyle are running past me, and they’re grabbing Lee and laying him down on the ground, Mistress Coyle having to forcibly pull his hands away from his bloody face–

And another voice screams in the crowd–

As we see–

Lee’s eyes–

They’re gone–

Just
gone
–

Burned away in a slash of blood–

Burned away as if by acid–

“Lee!” I say, kneeling down beside him. “Lee, can you hear me?”

“Viola?” he says, reaching out with his bloody hands. “I can’t see you! I can’t see!”

“I’m here!” I grab his hands, holding them tight. “I’m
here
!”

“What happened, Lee?” Bradley says, low and calm. “Where’s the rest of the hunting party?”

“They’re dead,” Lee says. “Oh, God, they’re dead. Magnus is
dead
.”

And we know what he’s going to say next, know because we can see it in his Noise–

“The Spackle,” Lee says. “The Spackle are coming.”

[T
ODD
]

The legs of the tank give way and the huge metal container of water comes tumbling down, almost too slow to be real–

It smashes to the ground, crushing at least one soldier underneath it–

And every drop of water we had to drink comes rushing out in a solid wall–

Heading right for us–

The Mayor’s still wobbly on his feet, still woozy–

“RUN!” I shout, sending it out in my Noise while grabbing a handful of the Mayor’s precious uniform and dragging him away–

The wall of water slams up the street and into the square after us, knocking over soldiers and Spackle, sweeping up tents and beds in one great big soup–

And it’s putting out the fire in the foodstore, but it’s putting it out with the last of our water–

And I’m dragging the Mayor nearly on his heels, getting us outta the way, thru soldiers I’m shouting at to “MOVE!” as we near–

And they do move–

And we make it up the front steps of a house–

And the water rushes past us, sloshing up after us to our knees, but rushing by and getting lower every second, sinking into the ground–

Taking our future with it.

And then almost as fast as it came, it’s gone, leaving a sopping square covered in mess and bodies of all sorts–

And I just catch my breath for a second and look out on the chaos, the Mayor recovering beside me–

And then I see–

Oh, no–

There, on the ground, pushed to the side by the water–

No–

James.

James, lying face-up, staring up at the sky above–

A hole through his throat.

I’m faintly aware of dropping my rifle, of running over to him, splashing thru the water and falling to my knees beside him.

James who I controlled. James who I sent over this way for no good reason other than my
desire
–

James who I sent right to his death.

Oh, no.

Oh, please, no.

“Well, that’s a damn shame,” the Mayor says behind me, sounding true, sounding almost
kind
. “I’m very sorry about your friend. But you did save
me,
Todd. Twice. Once from my own foolishness and once from a wall of water.”

I don’t say nothing. I ain’t taking my eyes off James’s face, still innocent, still nice and open and friendly, even when there ain’t no sound coming outta him at all.

The battle’s leaving us now. Mr O’Hare’s guns are blazing on distant streets. But what good will it do?

They got the water tank.

They’ve killed us.

I barely hear the Mayor sigh. “I think it’s time I met these settler friends of yours, Todd,” he says. “And I think it’s finally time I had a nice long talk with Mistress Coyle.”

I use my fingertips to close James’s eyes, remembering when I did it for Davy Prentiss, feeling the same hollowness in my Noise, and I can’t even think
I’m sorry
cuz it don’t feel like nearly enough, not like nearly enough at all, no matter if I said it for the rest of my life.

“The Spackle have turned terrorist, Todd,” the Mayor says, tho I ain’t much listening. “And maybe it takes a terrorist to fight a terrorist.”

And then we both hear it. Over the chaos in the square, there’s another
ROAR,
a whole different kind of roar in a world that seems to be
made
outta roaring.

We look east, up over the ruins of the cathedral, past the rickety brick bell tower, still standing, still looking like it shouldn’t.

In the distance, the scout ship has taken to the air.

On the Brink

(THE RETURN)

I am submerged in the Voice of the Land.

I am attacking the Clearing, feeling the weapons fire in my hands, seeing their soldiers die with my eyes, hearing the roars and screams of battle in my ears. I am up on the hilltop, on the rugged lip of it overlooking the valley below, but I am there in the battle as well, living it through the voices of those fighting, those giving up their lives for the Land.

And I watch as the water tank falls, though the Land close enough to see it fall die rapidly under the hand of the Clearing, each death a terrible tear at the voice of the Land, a sudden absence that pulls and pains–

But is necessary–

Necessary in small numbers only
, the Sky shows to me, watching, too.
Necessary to save the entire body of the Land
.

And necessary to finish this war before the
convoy
arrives
, I show back, hitting the strange word that I did not teach him.

There is time
, the Sky shows, his concentration still on the city below, still on the voices that reach us from there, fewer now, more on the run.

There is?
I ask, surprised, wondering how he knows for sure–

But I set my concerns aside, because the Sky’s voice opens to remind me of what is still to come tonight, now that the first goal of toppling the water tank is achieved.

One way or another, tonight is where the war will change.

Their water was the first step.

All-out invasion is the second.

The Land has not been idle these past days. The Land’s parties have attacked the Clearing unpredictably, from different directions at different times, hitting them hard in surprising and isolated spots. The Land are far more at one with the ground and the trees than the Clearing and can disguise themselves more easily, and the Clearing’s floating lights dare not get too close or the Land will shoot them down.

The Clearing could fire their larger weapons down the river, of course, hitting even the Sky himself, though they cannot know he watches them from so near.

But if they did fire, the river would come to drown them.

And there may be another reason. For why would the Clearing have such a powerful weapon and not use it? Why would they allow themselves to be attacked again and again, in increasing severity, and not answer back?

Unless, as we originally barely dared to hope, they had no more weapons to fire.

I wish I was down there
, I show, as we continue to watch through the voice of the Land.
I wish I was firing a rifle. Firing it into the Knife
.

You do not
, the Sky shows, his voice low and thoughtful.
They will be desperate now. We have progressed this far because they have not made a coordinated response
.

And you want them to
, I show.

The Sky wants the Clearing to show itself
.

We can attack now
, I show, my excitement growing.
They are in chaos. If we acted now
–

We will wait
, the Sky shows,
until we hear the voices from the far hilltop
.

The far hilltop. Our distant voices, the parts of the Land that go out to gather information, have shown us how the Clearing has divided itself into two camps. One in the city below, another on a hilltop in the distance. We have left the hilltop alone so far because they seem to be those of the Clearing that have fled the battle, those that are not interested in fighting. But we also know that the vessel landed there, and that the larger weapon was more than likely fired from there, too.

We have been unable to get close enough to see if they have more weapons.

But tonight we find out for certain.

The Land is ready
, I show, barely able to contain my excitement.
The Land is ready to attack
.

Yes
, shows the Sky.
The Land is ready
.

And in his voice, I see them.

The massed bodies of the Land to the north of the city and the south of it, too, gathered there slowly these past days, along paths the Clearing is unaware of, kept just distant enough for the Clearing to be unable to hear them.

And in the Sky’s voice I see another massed body, hidden, but ready and waiting near the far hilltop.

Right now, this moment, the Land is ready to march in full force on the Clearing.

And slaughter them all.

We will wait for news from the far hilltop
, the Sky shows again, more firmly this time.
Patience. The warrior who strikes too early is a warrior lost
.

And if the voices show what we want them to show?

He looks at me, a glint in his eye, a glint that expands into his voice, that grows to the size of the world around me, showing what is to come, showing what will happen, showing all that I want to be true.