“Yer a liar,” I say. “Ben beat you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Davy says. “Where is he now then? Coming to rescue you?”
I step forward, my fists up, cuz of course he’s right, ain’t he? My Noise surges with the loss of Ben, like it’s happening all over again right here.
Davy’s laughing, scrambling back away from me till he’s against the huge wooden door. “My pa can read you,” he says, then his eyes widen into a taunt. “Read you like a book.”
My Noise gets even louder. “You give me that book! Or I swear, I’ll kill you!”
“You ain’t gonna do nothing to me, Mr. Hewitt,” Davy says, rising, his back still against the door. “You wouldn’t wanna put yer beloved bitch at risk now, would you?”
And there it is.
They know they got me.
Cuz I won’t put her in no more danger.
My hands are ready to do more damage to Davy Prentiss, like they did before when he hurt her, when he shot her–
But they won’t now–
Even tho they could–
Cuz he’s weak.
And we both know it.
Davy’s smile drops. “Think yer special, do you?” he spits. “Think Pa’s got a treat for you?”
I clench my fists, unclench them.
But I keep my place.
“Pa knows you,” Davy says. “Pa’s read you.”
“He don’t know,” I say. “You don’t neither.”
Davy sneers again. “That so?” His hand reaches for the cast iron handle of the door. “Come and meet yer new flock then, Todd Hewitt.”
His weight opens the door behind him and he steps into the paddock and outta the way, giving me a clear view.
Of a hundred or more Spackle staring right back at me.
[TODD]
My first thought is to turn and run. Run and run and run and never stop.
“I’d like to see that,” Davy says, standing inside the gate, smiling like he just won a prize.
There’s so many of ’em, so many long white faces looking back at me, their eyes too big, their mouths too small and toothy and high on their faces, their ears looking nothing like a man’s.
But you can still see a man’s face in there, can’t you? Still see a face that feels and fears–
And suffers.
It’s hard to tell which are male and which are female cuz they all got the same lichen and moss growing right on their skins for clothing but there seem to be whole Spackle families in there, larger spacks protecting their spack children and what must be spack husbands protecting spack wives, arms wrapped round each other, heads pressed close together. All of them silently–
Silently.
“I know!” Davy says. “Can you believe they gave the cure to these animals?”
They look at Davy now and a weird clicking starts passing twixt ’em all with glances and nods moving along the crowd. Davy raises his pistol and steps further into the monastery grounds. “Thinking of trying something?” he spits. “Give me a reason! Go on! GIVE ME A REASON!”
The Spackle huddle closer together in their little groups, backing away from him where they can.
“Get in here, Todd,” Davy says. “We got work to do.”
I don’t move.
“I said, get in here! They’re animals. They ain’t gonna do nothing.”
I still don’t move.
“He murdered one of y’all,” Davy says to the Spackle.
“Davy!” I shout.
“Cut its head right off with a knife. Sawed and sawed–”
“Stop it!” I run at him to get him to shut his effing mouth. I don’t know how he knows but he knows and he’s gotta shut up right effing now.
The Spackle nearest the gate scoot way back at my approach, getting outta my way as fast as they can, looking at me with frightened faces, parents getting their children behind them. I push Davy hard but he just laughs and I realize I’m inside the monastery walls now.
And I see just how many Spackle there are.
The stone wall of the monastery surrounds a huge bit of land but only one little building, some kind of storehouse. The rest is divided up into smaller fields, separated by old wooden fences with low gates. Most of ’em are badly overgrown and you can see heavy grass and brambles stretching all the way to the back walls a good hundred metres away.
But mostly you can see Spackle.
Hundreds and hundreds of ’em spread out over the grounds.
Maybe even more than a thousand.
They’re pushing themselves against the monastery wall, huddling behind the rotting fences, sitting in groups or standing in rows.
But all watching me, silent as the grave, as my Noise spills out all over the place.
“He’s a liar!” I say. “It weren’t like that! It weren’t like that at all!”
But what was it like? What was it like that I can explain?
Cuz I did do it, didn’t I?
Not how Davy said but nearly as bad and completely as big in my Noise, too big to cover with all their eyes looking back at me, too big to surround with lies and confuse the truth, too big to not think about as a crowd of Spackle faces just stare.
“It was an accident,” I say, my voice trailing off, looking from face to weird face, not seeing no pictures of Spackle Noise, not understanding the clicking they make, so doubly not knowing what’s happening. “I didn’t mean it.”
But not one of ’em says a thing back. They don’t do nothing but stare.
There’s a creak as the gate behind us opens up again. We turn to look.
It’s Ivan from Farbranch, the one who joined the army rather than fight it.
And look how right he was. He’s wearing an officer’s uniform and he’s got a group of soldiers with him.
“Mr. Prentiss Jr,” he says, nodding at Davy, who nods back. Ivan turns to me, a look in his eye I can’t read and no Noise to be heard. “It’s good to see you well, Mr. Hewitt.”
“You two know each other?” Davy says, sharp-like.
“We’ve had past acquaintance,” Ivan says, still looking at me.
But I ain’t saying a word to him.
I’m too busy putting up pictures in my Noise.
Pictures of Farbranch. Pictures of Hildy and Tam and Francia. Pictures of the massacre that happened there. The massacre that didn’t include him.