All The Dark Places

40. The Cancer, The Black Hole & The Weakness

    Winston Abrams stood broad shouldered and six foot four, towering over Rosalind. She backed away from him, terrified. Never in her life had she been so frightened and never had she frozen this way before, unable to do anything but shake. Winston eyed Ethan and smiled, his face a hardened and bitter caricature of a power hungry man. He grabbed the riser of her bow, and she struggled to not let go, but he twisted her arm until the bone splintered and fractured. She yelled, and the sound knocked him backward.

"Oh! Look at that! I see I'm not the only one who has discovered our otherworldly visitors. Quite impressive, Mrs. Pyrne. If you weren't such a pain in my arse, I might keep you around. I would invite you to join my side, but the truth is, I cannot trust you and you and I both know that."

"What are you going to do?" she asked, clutching her fractured wrist. "Kill everyone who disagrees with you?"

"If I have to. There is no disagreeing with me, Mrs. Pyrne. This is the way it works." He moved to stand at the podium, to address the crowd. "Mr. Noble," he said to Ethan. "Pick up that rifle and hold it against Mrs. Pyrne's head."

Ethan obeyed though his face contorted, and he struggled to resist. Rosalind felt the cold end of the barrel against her ear.

"Roz, I'm so sorry," Ethan mumbled. "I can't help it. I can't stop."

"It's OK, Ethan," she said, trembling but not from the gun. She simply knew what she had to do. The path was opening up and becoming vivid with remarkable clarity. The realization was overwhelming; what she had already done, and what she had to do now.

Winston spoke to the crowd with a steady, powerful voice that struck fear in everyone. He was at ease with this, far too at ease, and fully in control.

"I think many of you misunderstand my intentions here," he said, bracing the podium with his hands. "I want what is best for all of us, the strong ones. If you're here, it is because you are chosen as the strong among the flock. The weak ones and the difficult ones are outside, being cast out as they should be. In another paradigm, I would not consider this. Of course not. This is a final solution. The end game to what is a terrible and complicated problem. We have too many mouths to feed, people. We have too many people taking up space who do not deserve it. So, the weak and the ones who will not comply are being sent away. Those who comply and leave quietly are not harmed. The only ones killed have been those who refused to go. They CHOSE their fate, and they were well aware of the consequences."

"You're a monster!" a man shouted from the fifth pew.

"Yes, that may be, but this monster will help you and yours survive. What will sentiment and politeness do? Likely make you all starve through the Winter. The fact is, we do not have enough food and supplies to make it through the Winter with this many people, and so some must be eliminated by force. It is a sad day indeed when people become statistics, but nonetheless it is an ugly fact."

"But who are you to choose?" Song Han stood up and shouted at him, raising an angry, pointed finger in his direction. "You and your people thrive while everyone else is a slave to your insane methods? There have been men like you before. Cowardly little seedlings of men who hide behind their armies. Men who thought they had a right to lord over the lives of others with no compassion! Mrs. Pyrne was building this place up with room for all of us as long as everyone worked and did their part. We don't need someone like you!"

"I understand your concern, Mrs. Han," he said, his voice even and concise. "You assume I hold you to a different standard than I do my own militia. I assure you that is not the case. This man, Daniel Gavelry has an arrow in his shoulder and won't likely recover. He is one of my men, shot by one of Rosalind Pyrne's minions over there. This man has proven himself to be incompetent, getting drunk while on an important mission. He is worthless to me now. He is a waste of food and medicine." Daniel Gavelry struggled to crawl toward the church door but Winston spoke to two large barrel-chested men in the back row. "You, and you. Take Daniel outside and kill him. Make it clean. No mess. Dispose of him in the burning buildings so he will be ash and bone by morning."

Troubled and struggling to disobey, the two men found themselves grabbing Daniel by the collar and ignoring his screams as they hauled him outside. The crowd gasped, and Song Han slowly sank into her seat, realizing the depth of depravity in this man and his plans.

"So you see, Mrs. Han, you are a lucky woman. A talented seamstress is of great value to us, and so you are safe, for now." He addressed the rest of the crowd. "You all will obey. New laws will be laid down, and we will have an orderly society within the context of this new and untested paradigm. You will find your place or you will have to leave. If you refuse to leave, you will meet the same fate as Daniel Gavelry."

"I saw you kill Robert Cloy," Song said softly, her bravery falling prey to despair. "I saw you strangle him at the North gate."

"Robert Cloy pledged himself to my cause and then turned on me at the last moment. That is treason, Mrs. Han. Surely you understand that. I cannot let weakness go unpunished. Robert Cloy had no spine, and would not go through with orders. A soldier who deserts his infantry must be dealt with accordingly.

Song Han found some of her fighting spirit and countered,

"You killed Robert because he refused to put an old man and woman out on the street to starve; you heartless prick! You forced my husband to do awful things for you by keeping me hostage! No one is following you! They are just afraid of you!"

"You will shut your mouth, Mrs. Han, or you I will find you less useful and more of a burden. Do you understand?"

She turned her head but remained silent, her pretty face shaded behind a veil of almost black hair. Rosalind felt rage boil up under her skin, the heat of it burning and making her eyes tear up through the pain in her wrist. She sank to the floor. She opened her mouth wide to scream, hoping to blast him backward and maybe knock him unconscious. He stuck out his hand and snapped,

"Do that again and I will kill two of these people."

She closed her mouth and felt hot tears roll down her cheek.

The church doors opened, and Felicia and Tess stood at the back of the church. Tess was in shock. Felicia looked eerily in control of her emotions. Rosalind watched the little girl walk up the aisle, looking like a morbid flower girl at a wedding. Felicia stopped to look down at Rosalind on the floor, and she gave a soft little smile.

"It will be all right, Roz. Everything's all right now."

"Thessaly, stand back or you will get hurt. I mean it. I am kindly allowing you and your daughter to remain in Thornwood when I have made others leave. You might be safe here if you stay out of the way. Now get your daughter and go back to the castle. My men are there and have been instructed to allow you inside."

Thessaly grabbed ahold of the wooden plank of a pew and would not let go, not allowing her body to compel her to leave without her daughter. Felicia stepped closer to Winston, and he eyed the little girl with a hatred that burned.

"Go with your mother!" he boomed, startling the crowd.

"I know what you did," she said, twirling a friendship bracelet made of beads and thread around her wrist. "I know about the pond and I know what you did to my brother. He was just a little boy, three years old and you killed him because you didn't want Mommy to tell anyone about you and her because she was so young and you were old and you were her teacher so you would get in trouble. And you were married, and you were cruel and awful and you broke her and she never got better. I know you did that, and you do awful things to everybody now. You killed my brother, and you tried to kill my daddy. You are the cancer, the black hole and the weakness."

Her words stunned him, and Rosalind saw a chance to catch him off guard. She unhinged her jaw and screamed, the piercing volume of it unnatural and shattering the glass of the church windows. People held their ears, squinting and writhing in pain. People all around her flew to the side as if a bomb had been dropped around her. Winston flew outward and upward and suddenly stopped in mid air. He was suspended there in flight; his arms stretched out and his face a frozen contortion of pain and surprise. Rosalind looked at Felicia. The little girl stood with her arms out in front of her, hands making the shape of a circle and slightly glowing a pale pink glow, the color of a peach blush rose. Ivy reached for her bow; her reflexes so fast that she got one shot off before anyone noticed the quick draw. The arrow took flight and found it's place in Winston's throat, then another followed and pierced his gut, and another pierced his groin.

Felicia took a deep breath and sighed, then fell to the floor in a tiny heap of blond curls. The lifeless body of Winston Abrams fell to the floor behind the podium.