grandfather and pull the trigger. Soon Grandpa is astride Skull choking him. The Shrieker raises his pistol again and pulls the trigger.
With a blast Grandpa fa lls back off of Skull, blood pouring from his head. The Shrieker rolls away from Grandpa and climbs slowly to his feet.
"No," I whisper. Part of me wants to run to help my grandfather and another part wants to run away with the result that I am frozen. I see Clay striding towards me out of the billowing smoke, a pistol in each hand. He glares at me with pure hatred.
My paralysis is suddenly broken, I turn to run away, ashamed at abandoning Grandpa, but also relieved to be leaving this place of death and horror. I run as fast as I can around the corner and slam into something immovable. Falling back on my rear, I see Reaper towering over me.
Before I can get up, he places one giant boot on my chest and presses down. I swing the cudgel weakly in his direction, but he catches it and yanks the weapon from my hand. I look into his face and see no mercy or humanity.
He swin gs the cudgel one handed at the side of my head which seems to explode with fire and pain. My mind closes down to sounds of screaming and music.
*******
When I awake I notice we are all crowded together into the Dormitory. The cots and makeshift dressers have all been rudely pushed against one wall. I feel dizzy and my mouth is dry.
"Don't try to move," Mother whispers from beside me. "It will only draw attention."
I slowly turned my head and see Grandpa lying beside her, his head in a heavy bandage.
"I saw h im get shot in the head."
"It didn't penetrate his skull," she explain s. "The bullet traveled around his head tearing loose his scalp. I need to sew it back on."
"Getting shot in the skull by S kull but the bullet doesn't go through the skull," I laugh hysterically at my own humor.
"Shut up!" Mother hisses at me.
Looking around I see other huddled groups of friends and neighbors and many of the children we'd put to bed safely the previous night. Lanterns posted at regular intervals cast menacing shadows around the room. Five dead Shriekers are laid out on the stage at the end of the Dormitory and many more dead women are piled unceremoniously below them. The smell of blood and burnt flesh is thick in the air.
Clay si ts in a chair on the stage while several other Shriekers stand around him looking down at us hatefully. A dozen or so of the Prospects are posted along the walls. All seem to be waiting for something.
A door bangs open and in stri des two Shriekers leading a group of children. I can see Victor is with them looking confused and frightened. He cradles his rainmaker in his arms and is forced to sit against the far wall near the stage. Two Prospects close the doors and stand guard.
I try to catch Victor's eyes, to reassure him, but he is too far away in the dim and crowded Dormitory.
The last two Shriekers walk up on stage. All nine of the remaining Protectors stand around Clay who sits looking at his feet while tapping a pistol against his leg.
He stan ds suddenly kicking the chair violently behind him. "Who is responsible for this?"
No one answers .
Clay nods as if he did n't expect an answer. "We've lived in peace by the Treaty for decades and now you go and do this?" He points at the pile of bodies at his feet.
Unbidden, my eyes look where he indicates. I think if I tried I could recognize each body. Instead I close my eyes and felt a single tear roll down my cheek.
"We've lived in harmony and peace," Clay continues. "I have been merciful and kind. Given you your freedoms. Protected you from harm. Someone is responsible, I refuse to believe that you all did this on your own. Again I ask who is responsible?"
People a re starting to look around them. Several eyes lingered on Broily and Grandpa. Even a few stare hard at mother.
"Gi ve me the one responsible," says Clay. "This violation, this rebellion , cannot be tolerated. I do not want to punish you all, only the
With a blast Grandpa fa lls back off of Skull, blood pouring from his head. The Shrieker rolls away from Grandpa and climbs slowly to his feet.
"No," I whisper. Part of me wants to run to help my grandfather and another part wants to run away with the result that I am frozen. I see Clay striding towards me out of the billowing smoke, a pistol in each hand. He glares at me with pure hatred.
My paralysis is suddenly broken, I turn to run away, ashamed at abandoning Grandpa, but also relieved to be leaving this place of death and horror. I run as fast as I can around the corner and slam into something immovable. Falling back on my rear, I see Reaper towering over me.
Before I can get up, he places one giant boot on my chest and presses down. I swing the cudgel weakly in his direction, but he catches it and yanks the weapon from my hand. I look into his face and see no mercy or humanity.
He swin gs the cudgel one handed at the side of my head which seems to explode with fire and pain. My mind closes down to sounds of screaming and music.
*******
When I awake I notice we are all crowded together into the Dormitory. The cots and makeshift dressers have all been rudely pushed against one wall. I feel dizzy and my mouth is dry.
"Don't try to move," Mother whispers from beside me. "It will only draw attention."
I slowly turned my head and see Grandpa lying beside her, his head in a heavy bandage.
"I saw h im get shot in the head."
"It didn't penetrate his skull," she explain s. "The bullet traveled around his head tearing loose his scalp. I need to sew it back on."
"Getting shot in the skull by S kull but the bullet doesn't go through the skull," I laugh hysterically at my own humor.
"Shut up!" Mother hisses at me.
Looking around I see other huddled groups of friends and neighbors and many of the children we'd put to bed safely the previous night. Lanterns posted at regular intervals cast menacing shadows around the room. Five dead Shriekers are laid out on the stage at the end of the Dormitory and many more dead women are piled unceremoniously below them. The smell of blood and burnt flesh is thick in the air.
Clay si ts in a chair on the stage while several other Shriekers stand around him looking down at us hatefully. A dozen or so of the Prospects are posted along the walls. All seem to be waiting for something.
A door bangs open and in stri des two Shriekers leading a group of children. I can see Victor is with them looking confused and frightened. He cradles his rainmaker in his arms and is forced to sit against the far wall near the stage. Two Prospects close the doors and stand guard.
I try to catch Victor's eyes, to reassure him, but he is too far away in the dim and crowded Dormitory.
The last two Shriekers walk up on stage. All nine of the remaining Protectors stand around Clay who sits looking at his feet while tapping a pistol against his leg.
He stan ds suddenly kicking the chair violently behind him. "Who is responsible for this?"
No one answers .
Clay nods as if he did n't expect an answer. "We've lived in peace by the Treaty for decades and now you go and do this?" He points at the pile of bodies at his feet.
Unbidden, my eyes look where he indicates. I think if I tried I could recognize each body. Instead I close my eyes and felt a single tear roll down my cheek.
"We've lived in harmony and peace," Clay continues. "I have been merciful and kind. Given you your freedoms. Protected you from harm. Someone is responsible, I refuse to believe that you all did this on your own. Again I ask who is responsible?"
People a re starting to look around them. Several eyes lingered on Broily and Grandpa. Even a few stare hard at mother.
"Gi ve me the one responsible," says Clay. "This violation, this rebellion , cannot be tolerated. I do not want to punish you all, only the
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