There’s a third blast of the horn sound, even louder this time, so loud you can feel it humming thru yer body.
And now people in town are really starting to scream.
“Reach in my front shirt pocket, Todd,” the Mayor says. “I think you’ll find something that once belonged to you.”
I stare at him, searching him out for a trick, but all that’s there is that stupid grin.
Like he’s winning again.
I push the rifle at him and use my free hand to dig in his pocket, my fingers hitting something metal and compact. I pull it out.
Viola’s binos.
“Really remarkable little things,” the Mayor says. “I do so look forward to the rest of the settlers landing, seeing what new treats they bring us.”
I don’t say nothing to him, just climb back up the rubble and hold the binos to my eyes with my free hand, clumsily trying to get the night vision to work. It’s been a long time since I–
I get the right button.
Up pops the valley, in shades of green and white, cutting thru the dark to show me the town.
I raise them up the road, up the river, to the zigzag on the hill, to the points of lights coming down it–
And–
And–
And oh my God.
I hear the Mayor laugh behind me, still tied to his chair. “Oh, yes, Todd. You’re not imagining it.”
I can’t say nothing for a second.
There ain’t no words.
How?
How can this be possible?
An army of Spackle is marching for the town.
Some of ’em, the ones near the front, are riding on the backs of these huge, wide creachers covered in what looks like armour and a single curving horn coming out the end of their noses. Behind ’em are troops, cuz this ain’t a friendly march, nosiree, it ain’t nothing like that at all, there are troops marching down the zigzag road, troops marching over the lip of the hill at the top of the falls.
Troops that are coming for battle.
And there are thousands of ’em.
“But,” I say, gasping, hardly able to get the words out. “But they were all killed. They were all killed during the Spackle War!”
“All of them, Todd?” the Mayor asks. “Every single one of them on this whole planet when all we live on is one little strip? Does that make sense to you?”
The lights I’ve been seeing are torches carried by the Spackle riding on the creachers’ backs, burning torches to lead the army, burning torches that light up the spears that the troops carry, the bows and arrows, the clubs.
All of ’em carrying weapons.
“Oh, we beat them,” says the Mayor. “Killed them in their thousands, certainly, every one within miles of here. Though they out-numbered us by a considerable margin, we had better weapons, stronger motivation. We drove them out of this land on the understanding that they would never return, never get in our way ever again. We kept some of them as slaves, of course, to rebuild our city after that war. It was only fair.”
The town is really ROARing now. The marching of the army has stopped and I can hear people running about and screaming to each other, stuff that don’t make no sense, stuff of disbelief, stuff of fear.
I run back down the rubble to him, pushing the gun hard into his ribs. “Why did they come back? Why now?”
And still he grins. “I expect they’ve had time to work on how they might get rid of us once and for all, don’t you? All these years? I expect they were only looking for a reason.”
“What reason?!” I shout at him. “Why–”
And I stop.
The genocide.
The death of every slave.
Their bodies piled up like so much rubbish.
“Quite right, Todd,” he says, nodding like we’re talking about the weather. “I suspect that must certainly be it, don’t you?”
I look down at him, understanding coming too late like always. “You did it,” I say. “Of course you did it. You killed every Spackle, every single one, made it look like it was the Answer.” I push the rifle into his chest. “You were hoping they’d come back.”
He shrugs. “I was hoping I’d have the chance to beat them once and for all, yes.” He purses his lips. “But it’s you I have to thank for speeding the plan along.”
“Me?” I say.
“Oh, yes, definitely you, Todd. I set the stage. But you sent them the messenger.”
“The messen–?”
No.
No.
I turn and run up the rubble again, binos back on, looking and looking and looking.
There’s too many, they’re too far away.
But he’s there, ain’t he?
Somewhere in that crowd.
1017.
Oh, no.
“I should say, Oh, no is right, Todd,” the Mayor calls up to me. “I left him alive for you to find, but even with your special relationship, he wasn’t very fond of you, was he? No matter how much you tried to help him. You’re the face of his torturers, the face he took back to his brothers and sisters.” I hear a low laugh. “I really wouldn’t want to be you right now, Todd Hewitt.”
I spin round, looking at the horizon on all sides. I spin round again. There’s an army to the south, one to the east, and now one marching down from the west.
“And here we sit,” says the Mayor, still sounding calm. “Right in the middle of it all.” He scratches his nose on his shoulder. “I wonder what those poor people on the scout ship must be thinking.”
No.
No.
I spin round once more, as if I could see them all coming. Coming for me.
My mind is racing.
What do I do?
What do I do?
The Mayor starts whistling, as if he had all the time in the world.
And Viola’s out there–
Oh, Jesus, she’s out there in it–
“The army,” I say. “The army’s gonna have to fight them.”
“In their spare time?” the Mayor says, raising his eyebrows. “When they’ve got a few free minutes from fighting the Answer?”
“The Answer will have to join us.”
“Us?” says the Mayor.
“They’ll have to fight alongside the army. They’ll have to.”
“You really think that’s how Mistress Coyle is going to play it?” He’s smiling but I can see his legs starting to bounce up and down now, energy coursing thru him. “She’ll see herself and them as having a common enemy, now won’t she? You mark my words. She’ll try to negotiate.” He catches my eye again. “And where will that leave you, Todd?”