Oh, yeah, and one more thing.
“Don’t you call me boy.”
He takes a step towards me. “A man would understand that things are more complicated than just right or wrong.”
“A man trying to save his own skin surely would.” And my Noise is saying Try it, come on, try it.
Mayor Ledger clenches his fists. “What you don’t know, Todd,” he says, nostrils flaring. “What you don’t know.”
“What don’t I know?” I say but then the door goes ker-thunk, making us both jump.
Davy comes busting in, rifles in hand. “Come on,” he says, shoving one at me. “Pa wants us.”
I go without another word, leaving Mayor Ledger shouting “Hey!” behind us as Davy locks the door.
“Fifty-six soldiers killed,” Davy says as we trundle down the stairs on the inside of the tower. “We killed a dozen of ’em and captured a dozen more but they got away with almost two hundred prisoners.”
“Two hundred?” I say, stopping for a second. “How many people were in prison?”
“Come on, pigpiss, Pa’s waiting.”
I run to catch up. We cross the lobby of the cathedral and head out the front door. “Those bitches,” Davy’s saying, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t believe the things they’re capable of. They blew up a bunkhouse. A bunkhouse! Where men were sleeping!”
We exit the cathedral to chaos in the square. Smoke is still blowing in from the west, making everything hazy. Soldiers, both by themselves and in squads, run this way and that, some of them pushing people before them, beating them with their rifles. Others are standing guard around groups of terrified-looking women and separate smaller groups of terrified-looking men.
“But we showed them, tho,” Davy says, grimacing.
“You were there?”
“No.” He looks down at his rifle. “But I will be next time.”
“David!” we hear. “Todd!” The Mayor’s riding towards us from across the square, moving so heavy and fast Morpeth’s shoes are striking sparks from the bricks.
“Something’s happened at the monastery,” he’s shouting. “Get there. Now!”
The chaos is city-wide. We see soldiers everywhere as we ride, herding townspeople before them, forcing them into bucket-lines to help put out the smaller fires from the first three bombs of last night, the ones that did take out the power stayshun, the water plant and a food store, all still burning cuz New Prentisstown’s fire hoses are busy trying to put out the prisons.
“They won’t know what hit ’em,” Davy says as we ride, fast.
“Who won’t?”
“The Answer and any man who helps them.”
“There ain’t gonna be no one left.”
“There’ll be us,” Davy says, looking at me. “That’ll be a start.”
The road gets quieter as we get away from the city, till you can almost believe things are still normal, unless you look back and see the columns of smoke rising in the air. There ain’t no one on the roads down this far and it starts to get so quiet it’s like the world’s ended.
We ride past the hill where the tower rubble lies but don’t see no soldiers going up the path towards it. We turn the last corner and come round to the monastery.
And pull back hard on our reins.
“Holy shit,” Davy says.
The whole front wall of the monastery has been blown open. There ain’t any guards on the walls, just a gaping hole in the masonry where the gate used to be.
“Those bitches,” Davy says. “They set them free.”
I feel a weird smile in my stomach at the thought of it.
(is this what she did?)
“Now we’re gonna have to bloody fight them, too,” Davy whines.
But I’m hopping off Angharrad, my stomach all funny and light. Free, I think. They’re free.
(is this why she joined them?)
I feel so–
So relieved.
I pick up the pace as I near the opening, my hands gripping my rifle but I have a feeling I ain’t gonna need it.
(ah, Viola, I knew I could count–)
Then I reach the opening and stop.
Everything stops.
My stomach falls right thru my feet.
“They all gone?” Davy says, coming up beside me.
Then he sees what I see.
“What the–?” Davy says.
The Spackle ain’t all gone.
They’re still here.
Every single one.
All 1150 of them.
Dead.
“I don’t unnerstand this at all,” Davy says, looking round.
“Shut up,” I whisper.
The guide walls have all been knocked down till it’s just a field again and bodies are piled everywhere, thrown on top of each another and tumbled across the grass, too, like someone tossed ’em away, males and females and children and babies, tossed away like they were trash.
Something’s burning somewhere and white smoke twists thru the field, circling the piles, pushing at them with smoky fingers, finding nothing alive.
And the quiet.
No clicking, no shuffling, no breathing.
“I gotta tell Pa,” Davy says, already turning back. “I gotta tell Pa.”
And he’s off back out the front, hopping on Deadfall and riding back up the road.
I don’t follow.
My feet will only go forward, thru them all, my rifle dragging behind me.
The piles of bodies are higher than my head. I have to look up to see the dead faces flung back, the eyes still open, grassflies already picking at the bullet wounds in their heads. Looks like all of ’em were shot, most of ’em in the middle of their high foreheads, but some of the bodies look slashed, too, cut across the throat or the chest and I start to see ripped-off limbs and heads twisted all the way round and–
I drop my rifle to the grass. I barely even notice.
I keep walking, not blinking, mouth open, not believing what I’m seeing, not taking in the scale of it–
Cuz I have to step over bodies with arms flung out, arms with bands round ’em that I put there, twisted mouths that I fed, broken backs that I–
That I–
Oh, God.
Oh, God, no, I hated ’em–
I tried not to but I couldn’t help it–
(no, I could–)
I think of all the times I cursed ’em–
All the times I imagined ’em as sheep–
(a knife in my hand, plunging down–)
But I didn’t want this–
Never, I–