There’s a bang outside somewhere, off in the distance. People really are running and shouting now but neither of us look.
I press myself back into the little nook but it’s really not wide enough for me. I glance round, seeing where escape might lie.
I don’t find nothing much.
My knife’s gonna have to do it. It’s gonna have to act, even if it is against a machete.
“Todd?” I hear behind me.
“Don’t worry, Manchee,” I say. “It’s gonna be all right.”
And who knows what a dog believes?
Matthew’s almost on us now.
I grip my knife.
Matthew stops a metre from me, so close I can see his eyes glinting in the dark.
“Jessica,” he says.
He raises his machete above his head.
I flinch back, knife up, steeling myself–
But he pauses–
He pauses–
In a way I reckernize–
And that’s enough–
With a quick prayer that it ain’t the same stuff from the bridge, I swing my knife in an arc to my side, slicing right thru (thank you thank you) the ropes holding up the silage rolls, cutting the first lot clean away. The other ropes snap right quick from the sudden shift in weight and I cover my head and press myself away as the silage rolls start to tumble.
I hear thumps and clumps and an “oof” from Matthew and I look up and he’s buried in silage rolls, his arm out to one side, the machete dropped. I step forward and kick it away, then turn to find Manchee.
He’s back in a dark corner behind the now-fallen rolls. I race over to him.
“Todd?” he says when I get close. “Tail, Todd?”
“Manchee?” It’s dark so I have to squat down next to him to see. His tail’s two thirds shorter than it used to be, blood everywhere, but God bless him, still trying to wag.
“Ow, Todd?”
“It’s okay, Manchee,” I say, my voice and Noise near crying from relief that it’s just his tail. “We’ll get you fixed right up.”
“Okay, Todd?”
“I’m okay,” I say, rubbing his head. He nips my hand but I know he can’t help it cuz he’s in pain. He licks me in apology then nips me again. “Ow, Todd,” he says.
“Todd Hewitt!” I hear shouted from the front of the barn.
Francia.
“I’m here!” I call, standing up. “I’m all right. Matthew went crazy–”
But I stop cuz she ain’t listening to me.
“Ye gotta get yerself indoors, Todd pup,” Francia says in a rush. “Ye gotta–”
She stops when she sees Matthew under the silage.
“What happened?” she says, already starting to tug away the rolls, getting the one off his face and leaning down to see if he’s still breathing.
I point to the machete. “That happened.”
Francia looks at it, then a long look up at me, her face saying something I can’t read nor even begin to figure out. I don’t know if Matthew’s alive nor dead and I ain’t never gonna find out.
“We’re under attack, pup,” she says, standing.
“Yer what?”
“Men,” she says, rising. “Prentisstown men. That posse that’s after ye. They’re attacking the whole town.”
My stomach falls right outta my shoes.
“Oh, no,” I say. And then I say it again, “Oh, no.”
Francia’s still looking at me, her brain thinking who knows what.
“Don’t give us to them,” I say, backing away again. “They’ll kill us.”
Francia frowns at this. “What kinda woman do ye think I am?”
“I don’t know,” I say, “that’s the whole problem.”
“I’m not gonna give ye to them. Honestly, now. Nor Viola. In fact the feeling of the town meeting, as far along as it got, was how we were a-deciding to protect ye both from what was almost certainly a-coming.” She looks down at Matthew. “Tho maybe that’s a promise we couldn’t keep.”
“Where’s Viola?”
“Back at my house,” Francia says, suddenly all active again. “C’mon. We gotta get ye inside.”
“Wait.” I squeeze back behind the silage rolls and find Manchee still in his corner, licking his tail. He looks up at me and barks, just a little bark that’s not even a word. “I’m gonna pick you up now,” I say to him. “Try not to bite me too hard, okay?”
“Okay, Todd,” he whimpers, yelping each time he wags his stumpy tail.
I reach down, put my arms under his tummy and hoist him up to my chest. He yelps and bites hard at my wrist, then licks it.
“It’s okay, buddy,” I say, holding him as best I can.
Francia’s waiting for me at the doors to the barn and I follow her out into the main road.
There are people running about everywhere. I see men and women with rifles running up towards the orchards and other men and women scooting kids (there they are again) into houses and such. In the distance I can hear bangs and shouts and yelling.
“Where’s Hildy?” I yell.
Francia don’t say nothing. We reach her front steps.
“What about Hildy?” I ask again as we climb up.
“She went off to fight,” Francia says, not looking at me, opening the door. “They would have reached her farm first. Tam was still there.”
“Oh, no,” I say again stupidly, like my “oh nos” will do any good.
Viola comes flying down from the upper floor as we enter.
“What took you so long?” she says, her voice kinda loud, and I don’t know which one of us she’s talking to. She gasps when she sees Manchee.
“Bandages,” I say. “Some of those fancy ones.”
She nods and races back up the stairs.
“Ye two stay here,” Francia says to me. “Don’t come out, whatever ye hear.”
“But we need to run!” I say, not understanding this at all. “We need to get outta here!”
“No, Todd pup,” she says. “If Prentisstown wants ye, then that’s reason enough for us to keep ye from them.”
“But they’ve got guns–”
“So do we,” Francia says. “No posse of Prentisstown men is going to take this town.”
Viola’s back down the stairs now, digging thru her bag for bandages.
“Francia–” I say.
“Stay right here,” she says. “We’ll protect ye. Both of ye.”