Apocalyptic Fears II: Select Bestsellers: A Multi-Author Box Set

by Greg Dragon

  My face turned hot. I didn’t know that Grandpa knew we call them that. “What about the Protectors?”

  He stared at me sternly for almost a minute and I felt certain he could read my thoughts. Seeming to make up his mind he nodded. “Thirty-one. But only fifteen are actual Shriekers. The rest are Prospects, boys taken to serve them once they Came Of Age. Only two of those have been promoted to Protectors.”

  “Why so few Shriekers?”

  “There used to be much more,” he answered. “Most were killed in the Rebellion along with all our men.”

  Understanding dawned. “We almost beat them, didn’t we?”

  Grandpa glanced around nervously. “That was a long time ago.”

  I hesitated before finding my resolve. “We have to do something.”

  “No we don’t,” he picked up a screwdriver and tightened a clamp.

  Knowing what I needed to do, I still despised myself for doing it. I sighed and turned to the window knowing I couldn’t say the words while facing him. “In two months I will walk up to the Shrieker House and take Reaper’s Chit.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Grandpa said behind me. It sounded as if he had thrown one of his precious tools on the table.

  “Yes I do,” I said. “If I don’t go, they’ll kill you and Mother, but first they’ll make an example of us to everyone. Take away what little dignity they’ve allowed us to have.”

  “What do you know about dignity?” Grandpa’s voice had a hint of anger.

  I ignored the question. “Once I Take the Chit, Reaper will use me and degrade me. He’ll do it in front of the other Reapers and invite them to use and degrade me themselves. When he’s tired of me he’ll trade or sell me to another Shrieker like a goat.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Somewhere along the line I’ll likely get pregnant,” I continued. “Who will know or care who the father is? This great grandchild of yours will grow up in squalor and fear and bondage.”

  “I said stop it, Teal.”

  “And not too long after these things have happened, I will lose hope. I won’t be able to live that way. One morning they will find me hanging from a beam or sitting in my own blood after I’ve cut my wrists.”

  “Enough!” he yelled at me.

  “This is my future,” I turned to look at him now. “Unless someone does something. Unless you do something to stop it.”

  With one of his powerful arms he swept the tools and speaker parts off the work table and onto the floor. His face looked at me with anger and shame. “Get out.”

  I wanted to tell him I was sorry. I wanted to rush into his arms and beg for his forgiveness. Wanted things to be like they were before.

  Instead I turned and walked out the door.

  ***

  Grandpa didn’t stay angry at me for long, but I could tell things weren’t okay with us. A persistent awkwardness hung over our heads. I still wanted to apologize for what I had said, but something told me that would be wrong. That it would be weak and possibly even doom us all.

  As if we weren’t already doomed.

  Mother also seemed on edge. I suspected that she and Grandpa talked about what I said, but she never brought it up with me. This wasn’t surprising given my mother didn’t speak about much of anything unless there was a good reason.

  Indomitable and sweet Victor continued on as if nothing had happened. His wounds healed and he never even missed a day in the fields, although I’m sure he must have been in terrible pain after the beating he took.

  Grandpa has started meeting with the Old Ones in the evenings after the Remembering. At first it was just one person at a time, but it soon grew to small groups, and now all the Old Ones. The rest of us are curious, but other than Mother and I, most just chalk it up to more unexplained strangeness of these human Artifacts from another age.

  One night the first small flurries of snow fell and everyone who was Of Age was told to return to the Meeting Hall after putting the little ones to bed. I helped Mother place Victor on the pallet in front of the fire to sleep and then walked back with her. She seemed as if she wanted to protest my involvement, but then just shrugged.

  “She’s not Of Age,” Grandpa said as soon as he saw me enter.

  “What does that even mean?” I asked. “It’s just something from the Treaty. Made up.”

  “Let her stay,” said Mother with a finality that told me there would be no further discussion on this topic.

  Grandpa must have known it too because he simply grumbled under his breath and turned away.

  The large meeting room soon filled with nearly a hundred Protected. Almost all of them were women and all are nervous. This had never been done as far as anyone knew and many keep looking over their shoulders and out windows racked with guilt and fear.

  “We should get started,” said Doc Huck looking at Grandpa.

  My grandfather nodded and appeared to gather his courage before speaking. “Many of you remember the Rebellion over a decade ago. Few of you remember the times before and only a handful lived in the days of the Great Plague.”

  I found myself leaning forward in anticipation. I knew every story by heart, but this was new.

  “The Shriekers weren’t the first road gang to attack Newton in those dark days, but they took the most. We were nearly burned out twice and most of the town starved in the Famine Year. Those that were left fought each other for every kernel of corn or rotting dog corpse. None of us were in any shape to fight off the attacks. So we made a deal with the devil, but things were so bad we didn’t care. The Shriekers helped us for a time when we were getting raids near every week. It was a good arrangement at first. We gave them a little food and shelter and they helped us fight. And for a while it worked. We focused on growing food and they watched our backs while we did it.”

  Mother’s hand was under her sleeve and I suspected she was unconsciously touching her hidden knife.

  “The fighting was bad at first, but gangs eventually learned to pass by Newton. Wasn’t long after that we were scavenging outside the town and planting whole fields of our own food again. People began to cooperate. Soon, the madness settled and we weren’t getting attacked at all. Then the Shriekers started taking from us. A little at first, such that it wasn’t worth protesting, but it grew over time. It was inevitable I guess, in their nature. Soon they were stealing our food and women. Groups of them breaking into houses at night and doing their worst. Anyone who did protest was gunned down, back when we had guns. Something had to be done.”

  “The Rebellion,” said a girl to my right.

  “Their word, not ours,” answered Broily.

  Grandpa smiled sadly. “I’m pretty sure we surprised them. Didn’t enter their heads that we would dare go after them. They expected us to obey and endure, no matter what they did to us. Terror was their only weapon and one they used with practiced precision.”

  I looked at Mother and wondered what she was remembering. How many times did they break into our house? How many cruel men raped and abused her? At what point did Grandpa protest too much and lose his legs for it?

  “We damn near had them beat,” continued Grandpa, “but winter was coming on and we knew if we were to survive we needed to prepare. By then most of the Shriekers were dead and many of our men were too. Both sides were at the end of their endurance and we were destroying the town as we fought. That’s why we don’t have running water or sewage anymore, but everything was breaking down and we knew it could no longer be replaced.”

  “So you made a treaty with the Shriekers,” said Sarah. Even her conversational voice is beautiful, I realized in the stillness.

  Grandpa nodded. “We got almost everything we wanted. They agreed to not mistreat the women, children, old, or infirm. They agreed to never take a woman by force again. They would be our Protectors and we the Protected and we would provide for them as long as they helped defend us and abided by the Treaty.”

  “But they didn’t abide by it?” asked
a small voice from the other side of the room.

  “Oh, they abided by it,” said Grandpa. “It’s only recently that they’ve started really taking advantage and abusing us again.”

  “Then what went wrong?” I ask louder than I intended.

  He looked at me before answering. “Clay outsmarted us. He had all of his men and all of our men sign the treaty in our own blood. I saw it hanging in Clay’s office the other day, my signature is there on it. After the signatures he had his men seize all of us. We protested, but he said there was nothing in the Treaty about not killing the men of Newton. They tied us all up, slit our throats, and laid the corpses out on the ground for the town to see.”

  “But they didn’t kill you,” said Reuben and for once he didn’t sound drunk.

  Grandpa was looking down at his legs. “They decided I was part of the infirm indicated in the Treaty. They dragged me out of my chair and hung me up by my hands in the center of the courthouse where we’d all signed. Made me watch as they murdered my friends and neighbors. Then they cut me down and made me crawl through their blood while they pissed and spat on me.”

  The room was eerily silent and I noticed everyone was staring at my grandfather intently, even Mother.

  “Ironically, they intended their act as an example. To terrorize us of course, but they warned us never to speak of that day. And we didn’t, there was no point.”

  “Is there a point now? In speaking of it?” asked Miriam.

  Grandpa paused so long that I thought he wasn’t going to answer. He finally took a deep breath and glanced around. “We surprised them before and I think we could do it again. They don’t expect us to do anything.”

  “But there’s no men left,” said our neighbor Candice. “They’ll kill us all if we do anything.”

  “They can’t kill us all,” answered Broily. “We provide their food, their clothes, their shelter. Without us they have to go back on the road and none of them want that. Not anymore.”

  “But we need everyone in on this,” added Doc Huck. “All it takes is one person saying something to a Protector and we’re in trouble. Although they can’t kill all of us, they’d certainly kill some of us as an example. We’ve got to be together on this.”

  “How are we supposed to fight those men?” asked Candice. “They’ll just kill us and then where will our children be?”

  “We fight them by fighting them,” said Reuben and I was surprised to see a fierceness in his old bloodshot eyes.

  “They’ll never expect us to rise against them,” said Grandpa. “We’ll have surprise and numbers on our side. Most of the ammo for the guns is gone, so we’ll make weapons in hiding to use.”

  This wasn’t technically true. I’d seen the Shrieker Bird’s Eye kill a small black bear with a rifle last year. The animal had been hanging around the edge of the goat herd and we were sure the animal would eventually drag one off despite the dogs. I remembered how the sound of the weapon had frightened me and everyone else. That was the first and only time I’d seen a gun. I hadn’t been paying attention the last few minutes and realized that most of the objections had been talked down or reasoned with.

  “So is there a plan or something?” asked Sarah.

  Grandpa nodded. “We’re still working on that, but I’ve got some ideas. We’ll talk more in the days ahead. The important part of tonight was getting everyone’s mind right for what is to come.”

  “We’ve stayed long enough,” said Broily. “Don’t want any of the Shriekers to get suspicious. Remember folks, don’t talk about this outside this room and for God’s sake don’t talk to any of your sons or brothers who are working for the Shriekers. We don’t know if they can be trusted.”

  “But we’re going to save them, right?” asked Beatrice, Jonesy’s mother.

  Grandpa, Reuben, Doc Huck, and Broily turned to each other. Rueben speaks to her kindly. “If we can. They’re part of us, we’ll try to bring them back in the fold.”

  I thought of Jonesy and some of the other Newton boys working for the Shriekers. I was certain some of them would fight against us. They had become drunk on power and didn’t consider themselves part of us anymore.

  “That’s enough for tonight,” said Grandpa. “May God bless us and help us.”

  Some grumbled as they depart but several others say “amen.” I peered around at the people and knew I should be excited about what had happened tonight. This was what I wanted. What I set in motion.

  Instead I felt scared, a sense of foreboding weighed me down like the kudzu slowly covering the world outside.

  ***

  As we made weapons we hid them in the Dead Houses in the Borderland. Clubs and spears were our most common instruments, but there was also an occasional flail or rusty knife.

  Everyone was edgy. We’d meet each other’s eyes and then glance away as if afraid the Protectors could read our thoughts. There were more late night meetings after the Remembering, but they served more to strengthen our resolve than to actually strategize.

  Reaper has been watching me with hungry eyes, and it was somehow more frightening that he no long pawed at me. It was as if he already considered me a possession, one he was making plans for, one for whom he was waiting to take ownership.

  “You keep that big idiot away from here,” he said when Victor came around to greet us. “Next time he won’t be so lucky.”

  Victor seemed genuinely content. He ate voraciously. Grinned moronically at the children and played with his rainmaker. At night his loud snores from the pallet in front of the fire testified to his sound relaxation.

  Mother just shook her head. “This is probably as good as he’s ever had it. Regular food, a warm bed to sleep in, and a roof over his head.”

  “He’s also not alone anymore,” said Grandpa. “Being alone is a terrible feeling. I can’t imagine how scared someone like him must have been out there alone.”

  “But even so he survived,” said Mother. “That just strikes me as miraculous.”

  “How old do you think he is?” I asked.

  “Older than you think,” said Grandpa. “I’d say he’s at least forty.”

  “That means he’s an Old One.” I was completely surprised.

  Grandpa nodded. “He was certainly alive from Before, probably a teenager when the Great Plague came. It’s difficult to see him as that old because of the way he is, but he’s been around.”

  “I wonder what happened to his family?” I always contemplate awful things for others without thinking much about what might happen to me, or those close to me.

  “Same as everyone else’s,” answered Mother harshly. “They either died in the plagues or were killed afterward by road gangs or rogue soldiers. Maybe they starved. Doesn’t matter.”

  “I wish he could talk more,” I said. “There’s so much we don’t know about him.”

  “And probably never will,” answered Grandpa. “The important thing is he’s strong as an ox and works hard. Doesn’t cause any trouble either.”

  I saw my mother’s grimace and knew what she was thinking about. “That wasn’t his fault,” I said. “Reaper was likely going to do something terrible if Victor hadn’t stepped in to help.”

  “He might also have just groped at you and let you go,” she said.

  “Then why did you pull out that knife of yours?” I asked.

  Grandpa was shocked. Mother moved away without answering. She went into her room, closing the door behind her.

  “She pulled a knife on a Shrieker?”

  I nodded. “That’s why he punched her in the face. If Victor hadn’t distracted Reaper, he’d have killed her for daring to do such a thing.”

  Grandpa leaned forward to poke absently at the fire before speaking. “Things are starting to come apart. I think even the Shriekers know that. We can’t go on like this much longer.”

  “When?” I asked this nearly every night.

  “Soon,” he said. “We’ll know when the time is right. We’re almost re
ady.”

  “What are we going to do? How are we going to fight them?”

  Grandpa smiled at me and patted my hand. “Don’t worry about that yet. We’ve got a plan. Just a few more pieces to get into place. Best get on to bed, Teal.”

  I wanted to talk more. To figure out what was about to happen, but I knew Grandpa would not be moved. He just poked about in the fire with far off eyes.

  I got up to go to my room, hoping I could sleep. Maybe I would. It helped that Victor had finally stopped snoring.

  ***

  A week later I walked into Grandpa’s shop to find tools, parts, and wires spread out all over every available surface. Almost compulsively tidy, Grandpa became agitated whenever things weren’t in their proper place. True to form, I could see his nervous frustration. There were also several books on his desk.

  “I knew you could read,” I said.

  “Never said I couldn’t,” he responded without looking at me.

  I walked over to examine them. Running my finger down the page of the smallest of the books I saw what looked like rows and rows of numbers.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “An almanac,” he answered. “It tells me that tonight should be cold and a full moon. With any luck it will be a clear sky, maybe we’ll get a good wind too.”

  My hand jerked back from the book and I froze for a moment. “How can a book tell you that? Is it magic?”

  “I’ve told you before, Teal. There’s no such thing as magic. It’s just a book that you can use to predict future weather based on past data. It’s not looking into the future, only making a calculated prediction from sound scientific measurements.”

  Steering clear of the smaller book, I touched pages of the three larger ones, all are open to sections showing lines intersecting with numbers and symbols.

  “Wiring schematics,” Grandpa said. “They tell me how to wire up the speaker to do what I want it to do.”

  Down on the floor there were buckets filled with broken glass and sharp gravel. I was trying to take in everything, figure out what I can. “What about this stuff? This is not electronics.”