Ivan slumps a little when the eye contact is broken, blinking as if he’s just woken up, forehead furrowing.
“But, sir,” he says to the Mayor’s back.
The Mayor turns round again, looking very surprised at still being spoken to.
Ivan presses on. “We were coming to your aid when–”
The Mayor’s eyes flash. “When the Answer watched you do exactly what it wanted you to do and then blew up my tower.”
“But, sir–”
Without changing his expresshun, the Mayor pulls out a pistol from his holster and shoots Ivan in the leg.
Ivan tumbles over, wailing. The Mayor looks at the other soldiers.
“Anyone else care to contribute before you get to work?”
As the rest of the soldiers ignore Ivan’s screams and start clearing up the wreckage, the Mayor moves Morpeth right in front of that A, loud and clear like the announcement it is. “The Answer,” he says, in a low voice like he’s talking to himself. “The Answer.”
“Let us go after ’em, Pa,” Davy says.
“Hmm?” The Mayor turns his head slowly, like he forgot we were there.
“We can fight,” Davy says. “We proved that. And instead you got us babysitting animals that are already beat.”
The Mayor considers us for a minute, tho I don’t know how or when Davy turned him and me into an us. “If you think they’re already beaten, David,” he finally says, “then you know very little about the Spackle.”
Davy’s Noise ruffles a little. “I think I’ve learnt a thing or two by now.”
And as much as I hate to, I have to agree with him.
“Yes,” says the Mayor. “I suppose you have. Both of you.” He looks me in the eye and I can’t help thinking of me saving 1017 from the bomb, risking my own life to get him outta the way.
And him biting and scratching me by way of thanks.
“Then how about a new project?” the Mayor says, steering Morpeth over to us. “One where you can put all your expertise to work.”
Davy’s Noise ain’t sure of this. There’s pride but doubt, too.
All I got in mine is dread.
“Are you ready to lead, Todd?” the Mayor asks lightly.
“I’m ready, Pa,” Davy says.
The Mayor still looks only at me. He knows I’m thinking about her but he’s ignoring all my askings.
“The Answer,” he says, turning back to the A. “If that’s who they want to be, then let them.” He looks back at us. “But if there’s an Answer, then someone must first . . .”
He lets his voice fade and he gets a faraway smile on his face, like he’s laughing at his own private joke.
Davy unfolds the big white scroll onto the grass, not caring that it’s getting wet in the cold morning dew. There’s words written across the top and diagrams and squares and things drawn in below it.
“Measurements mostly,” Davy reads. “Too effing many. I mean, look at that.”
He holds the scroll up to me, trying to get me to agree.
And, well–
Yeah, okay, I–
Whatever.
“Too effing many,” I say, feeling sweat come up under my arms.
It’s the day after the tower fell and we’re back at the monastery, back to putting teams of Spackle to work. My escape seems to be forgotten, like it was part of another life and now we’ve all got new things to think about. The Mayor won’t talk to me about Viola and I’m back working for Davy, who ain’t too happy.
So it’s like old times.
“There’s fighting to be done and he’s got us building an effing palace,” Davy frowns, looking over the plans.
It ain’t a palace but he’s got a point. Before it was just gonna be rough shacks to shelter the Spackle for the winter but this looks like a whole new building for men, taking up most of the inside of the monastery.
It’s even got a name written across the top.
A name my eye stumbles over, trying to–
Davy turns to me, his eyes widening. I make my Noise as Noisy as possible.
“We should get started,” I say, standing up.
But Davy’s still looking at me. “What do you think about what it says right here?” he asks, putting his finger on a block of words. “Ain’t that something amazing what it says?”
“Yeah,” I shrug. “I guess.”
His eyes get even wider with delight. “It’s a list of materials, pigpiss!” His voice is practically celebrating. “You can’t read, can you?”
“Shut up,” I say, looking away.
“You can’t even read!” Davy’s smiling up into the cold sun and around at all the Spackle watching us. “What kinda idiot gets thru life–”
“I said, shut up!”
Davy’s mouth drops open as he realizes.
And I know what he’s gonna say before he says it.
“Yer ma’s book,” he says. “She wrote it for you and you can’t even–”
And what can I do but hit him across his stupid lughole of a mouth?
I’m getting taller and bigger and he comes off worst in the fight but he don’t seem to mind all that much. Even when we get back to work, he’s still giggling and making a big show outta reading the plans.
“Mighty complicated, these instruckshuns,” he says, a big smile across his bloody lips.
“Just effing get on with it!”
“Fine, fine,” he says. “First step is what we were already doing. Tearing down all the internal walls.” He looks up. “I could write it down for you.”
My Noise rages red at him but Noise is useless as a weapon.
Unless yer the Mayor.
I didn’t think life could turn more to crap but it always does, don’t it? Bombs and towers falling and having to work with Davy and the Mayor paying me special attenshun and–
(and I don’t know where she is)
(and I don’t know what the Mayor’s gonna do to her)
(and did she plant the bombs?)
(did she?)
I turn back round to the work site.
1150 pairs of Spackle eyes are watching us, watching me, like they’re just effing farm animals looking up from their grazing cuz they heard a loud noise.
Stupid effing sheep.
“GET TO WORK!” I shout.