Monsters of Men

And in the depths of his voice, I see not only that the Sky, like the Return, can conceal with his voice, but I can also see part of what he is concealing–

You must trust me, he says again, showing me his plans for the days to come–

But he will not show me the source of his information.

Because he knows how betrayed I will feel when he finally does.

[TODD]

There’s blood everywhere.

Across the grass in the front garden, on the small path leading up to the house, all over the floor inside, way more blood than you’d think coulda come outta actual people.

“Todd?” the Mayor says. “Are you all right?”

“No,” I say, staring at all the blood. “What kinda person would be all right?”

I am the Circle and the Circle is me, I think.

The Spackle attacks keep coming. Every day since the first one on the power stayshun, eight days in a row, no let up. They attack and kill the soldiers who are out trying to drill wells to get us much-needed water. They attack and kill sentries at night at random points on the edge of town. They even burnt down a whole street of houses. No one died, but they set another street alight while the Mayor’s men were trying to put out the first one.

And all this time, there still ain’t no reports from the squadrons to the north and south, both of ’em just sitting there twiddling their thumbs, no sound of Spackle passing ’em to make it into town or on the way back from another successful attack. Nothing from Viola’s probes neither, like everywhere you look, they’re somewhere else.

And now they’ve done something new.

Parties of townsfolk, usually accompanied by a soldier or two, have been going thru the outlying houses one by one, scrounging whatever food they can find for the storehouse.

This party got met by Spackle.

In broad daylight.

“They’re testing us, Todd,” the Mayor says, frowning, as we stand at the doorway of the house, some way east of the cathedral ruins. “This is all leading up to something. You mark my words.”

The bodies of thirteen Spackle are strewn about the house and the yard. On our side, there’s a dead soldier in the front room and I can see the remains of two dead townsfolk, both older men, thru the door of the pantry, and a woman and a boy who died hiding in the bathtub. A second soldier lies in the garden, being worked on by a doctor, but he ain’t got one of his legs no more and there’s no way he’s long for this world.

The Mayor walks over to him and kneels down. “What did you see, Private?” he asks, his voice low and almost tender in a way I know myself. “Tell me what happened.”

The private’s breath is all in gasps and his eyes are wide and his Noise is a thing you just can’t bear looking at, filled with Spackle coming at him, filled with soldiers and townsfolk dying, filled most of all with how he ain’t got one of his legs no more and how there ain’t no going back from that, not never ever ever–

“Calm yourself,” says the Mayor.

And I hear the low buzz. Twisting into the private’s Noise, trying to settle him down, trying to get him to focus.

“They just kept coming,” the private says, still pretty much gasping twixt each word but at least he’s talking. “We’d fire. And they’d fall. And here’d come another one.”

“But surely you must have had warning, Private,” the Mayor says. “Surely you heard them.”

“Everywhere,” the private gasps, arching his head back at some new invisible pain.

“Everywhere?” the Mayor says, voice still calm but the buzz getting louder. “What do you mean?”

“Everywhere,” the soldier says, his throat really grabbing for air now, like he’s talking against his will. Which he probably is. “They came. From everywhere. Too fast. Ru

“Private,” the Mayor says again, working harder on the buzz–

“They just kept coming! They just kept–”

And then he’s gone, his Noise fading fast before stopping altogether. He dies, right there in front of us.

(I am the Circle–)

The Mayor stands up, his face all a

“Come, Todd!” the Mayor finally snaps and off he stomps to where our horses are tied and I’m ru

{VIOLA}

“You sure you ain’t got nothing?” Todd asks over the comm. He’s riding Angharrad behind the Mayor, away from an attack on a house outside of town, the eighth in a row, and I can see the worry and weariness on his face even in the little screen.

“They’re hard to track,” I say, lying on the bed in the healing room again, my fever up again, so consistently I haven’t even been able to visit Todd. “Sometimes we see little glimpses of them, but nothing useful, nothing we can follow.” I lower my voice. “Plus, Simone and Bradley are keeping the probes closer to the hilltop now. The townsfolk are sort of demanding it.”

And they are. It’s so crowded up here now there’s almost no room to move. Very poor-looking tents, made of everything from blankets to rubbish bags, stretch all the way down to the main road by the empty riverbed. Plus, things are growing scarce. There are streams near here, and Wilf brings up vats of water twice a day so our water supply problems are less than what Todd says they’re facing in the city. But we’ve only got the food the Answer was keeping for itself, supply for 200 that’s now got to feed 1500. Lee and Magnus keep leading hunting parties, but it’s nothing compared to the stored food in New Prentisstown, guarded heavily by soldiers.

They’ve got enough food but not enough water.

We’ve got enough water but not enough food.

But neither the Mayor nor Mistress Coyle would even consider leaving the places where they’re strongest.

Worse, rumour spreads almost instantly in a group of people this close together, and after the attacks began on the town, people started thinking the Spackle would attack us next, that they were already surrounding the hilltop, ready to close in and kill us all. They weren’t, there’s been no sign of them near us, but the townsfolk keep asking what we’re doing to keep them safe, saying it’s our responsibility to protect everyone on the hill first, before the town below.

Some of them have even started sitting in a sort of half-circle near the bay doors of the scout ship, not saying anything, just watching what we do and reporting it back along the hilltop.

Ivan’s usually sitting right up front. He’s even started calling Bradley “The Humanitarian”.

And he doesn’t mean it in a nice way.

“I know what you mean,” Todd says. “The feeling ain’t any better down here.”

“I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

“Likewise.”

“Any news?” Mistress Coyle says, coming into the healing room as Todd hangs up.

“You shouldn’t be listening to people’s private conversations.”

“There’s nothing on this planet that’s private, my girl. That’s the whole problem.” She gives me a lookover as I lie on the bed. “How’s your arm?”

My arm hurts. The antibiotics have stopped working, and the red streaking is spreading again. Mistress Lawson left me here with a new combination bandage, but even I could see she was worried.

“Never you mind,” I say. “Mistress Lawson’s doing a great job.”

Mistress Coyle looks at her feet. “You know, I’ve had some success on the infections with a set of timed–”