Men who’ve lost wives and daughters and mothers and who are fighting to save them or fighting to avenge their memories.
Mostly it’s memories.
I suppose it’s useful if everyone thinks it’s only women; it allows men to come and go, even if the Mayor surely knows what’s what, which is probably why he’s denying the cure to so much of his own army, why the Answer’s own supply of cure is becoming more burden than blessing.
I cast a glance quickly back to Lee behind me and forward again.
I’m not sure of his reason for being here.
I haven’t been able–
I haven’t had the chance to ask him yet.
I’m not paying attention as I reach the dining room door and don’t really notice when it opens before I can take the handle.
I look up into Mistress Coyle’s face.
I don’t even greet her.
“Take me with you on the next raid,” I say.
Her expression doesn’t change. “You know why you can’t.”
“Todd would join us,” I say. “In a second.”
“Others aren’t so sure about that, my girl.” I open my mouth to reply but she interrupts. “If he’s even still alive. Which matters not, because we can’t afford to have you captured. You’re the most valuable prize of all. The girl who can help the President when the ships land.”
“I–”
She holds up her hand. “I won’t have this fight with you again. There is too much important work to do.”
The camp feels silent now. The people behind her have stopped moving as we stare at one another, no one willing to ask her to get out of the way, not even Mistresses Forth and Nadari, who wait there patiently. Like Thea, they’ve barely spoken to me since my arrival, all these acolytes of Mistress Coyle, all these people who wouldn’t dare to dream of speaking to her the way I’m speaking to her now.
They treat me as if I’m a little dangerous.
I’m slightly surprised to find I kind of like it.
I look into her eyes, into the unyieldingness of them. “I won’t forgive you,” I say quietly, as if I’m only talking to her. “I won’t. Not now, not ever.”
“I don’t want your forgiveness,” she says, equally quietly. “But one day, you will understand.”
And then her eyes glint and she pulls her mouth into a smile. “You know,” she says, raising her voice. “I think it’s time you had some employment.”
[TODD]
“Can’t you effing things move any faster?”
The four or five Spackle nearest to me flinch away, tho I ain’t even spoken that loud.
“Get a move on!”
And as ever, no thoughts, no Noise, no nothing.
They can only be getting the cure in the fodder I still have to shovel out. But why? Why when no one else is? It makes them a sea of silent clicking and white backs bent into the cold and white mouths sending out puffs of steam and white arms pulling up handfuls of dirt and when yer looking out across the monastery grounds, all those white bodies working, well, they could be a herd of sheep, couldn’t they?
Even tho if you look close you can see family groups and husbands and wives and fathers and sons. You can see older ones lifting smaller amounts more slowly. You can see younger ones helping ’em, trying to keep us from seeing that the older ones can’t work too hard. You can see a baby strapped to its mother’s chest with an old piece of cloth. You can see an especially tall one directing others along a faster work chain. You can see a small female packing mud around the infected number band of a larger female. You can see ’em working together, keeping their heads down, trying not to be the one who gets seen by me or Davy or the guards behind the barbed wire.
You can see all that if you look close.
But it’s easier if you don’t.
We can’t give ’em shovels, of course. They could use ’em against us as weapons and the soldiers on the walls get twitchy if a Spackle even stretches its arms up too high. So there they all are, bending to the ground, digging, moving rocks, silent as clouds, suffering and not doing nothing about it.
I got a weapon, tho. They gave me the rifle back.
Cuz where am I gonna go?
Now that she’s gone.
“Hurry it up!” I shout at the Spackle, my Noise rising red at the thought of her.
I catch Davy looking over at me, a surprised grin on his face. I turn away and cross the field to another group. I’m halfway there when I hear a louder click.
I look round till I find the source.
But it’s only ever the same one.
1017, staring at me again, with that look that ain’t forgiveness. He moves his eyes to my hands.
It’s only then I realize I’ve got them both clenched hard around my rifle.
I can’t even remember taking it off my shoulder.
Even with all this Spackle labour, it’s still gonna take a coupla months to even come close to finishing this building, whatever it is, and by that time it’ll be mid-winter and the Spackle won’t have the shelter they were sposed to be building for themselves and I know they live outside more than men do but I don’t think even they can live unsheltered in the winter frost and I ain’t heard of nowhere else they’re gonna be going yet.
Still, we had all the internal walls torn down in seven days, two ahead of schedule, and no Spackle even died, tho we did have a few with broken arms. Those Spackle were taken away by soldiers.
We ain’t seen ’em since.
By the end of the second week after the tower bomb, we’ve nearly dug all the trenches and blocks for the foundayshuns to be poured, something Davy and I are sposed to supervize even tho it’s gonna be the Spackle who know how to do it.
“Pa says they were the labour that rebuilt the city after the Spackle War,” Davy says. “Tho you wouldn’t know it from this bunch.”
He spits out a shell from the seeds he’s eating. Food’s getting a bit scarce what with the Answer adding supply raids to the ongoing bombs but Davy always manages to scrounge up something. We’re sitting on a pile of rocks, looking out over the one big field, now dug up with square holes and ditches and so full of rock piles there’s barely any room for the Spackle to crowd into.
But they do, cramming onto the edges and huddling together in the cold. And they don’t say nothing about it.