Chapter 11. The Foe

One day followed another. A week passed and then two. Vince’s family ended their fast. Fresh kills were happening again and there was not any more hunger. Since his appearance in the window there hadn’t been any signs of Atticus. Still his scent was ever in the wind. It was as if he possessed some power of invisibility. Their world didn’t contain magic. What Atticus was doing was uncanny and dangerous.

It was late evening. The autumn sun had set two hours ago. At the kitchen table, the women worked on their needle work. Each of them had chosen a theme that suited them. Nisreen had chosen a gull in flight over an expanse of blue. Her stitches weren’t as neat as Sister’s on her canvas of violets. Auntie had chosen to tat lace. While Granny was crocheting a chignon. Mama knitted with needles Papa had formed from bones. As Nisreen worked she thought of all the sharp things the females were using. Surely a bone knitting needle could be pushed through the soft tissue between the ribs. If it did, wouldn’t that mean it could puncture the heart?

The candle flickered. The front room window was cracked open. The scent of blood was in the wind. A weak link had just been felled. No one stirred. Their bellies were full. Someone else could share in the spoils tonight. Papa yawned. “I think I will be going to bed. I have an early start.”

Everyone nodded as if they knew why he had an early start. Nisreen didn’t know. “Where are you going?”

He said, “Nisreen, were you not listening at breakfast? I am going to see Stolen Chantel. Something has to be done about Atticus.”

At breakfast Nisreen’s focus had been on Malik. His presence was beginning to be very distracting to her. Something inside of her had begun to long for his nearness and his attention. These were feelings she didn’t like and liked very much. During their clandestine lessons with the sling shot, they had begun to know each other. She had memorized his scent, his smile. He was a good teacher who gave loads of encouragement while at the same time, corrected her and taught her what she needed to do to improve her aim. She was getting better. Not good enough to drive a stone through Atticus’ skull, but still progress was being made. She hit most of the bones, rocks and sticks Malik set up for her practice. So far they hadn’t been discovered. It would’t last but, for now, it was the best part of her week.

Gun shots rang out in the night and echoed. One, two, three, four! Four! Papa was on his feet as was Malik. The smell of gunpowder and Killers was in the air.

Papa headed for the door while Malik remained where he was. Mama begged Papa, “Don’t go, please don’t go.”

The light of charm lit in Papa’s eyes. In a gentle hiss, he told Mama, “They don’t kill our kind. I need to find out what has happened.”

Bitterly Mama replied, “You don’t need to, you want to.” She got up and left the room.

No one else spoke. Papa did as he wanted and left alone. Once Nisreen would have gone with him out of a similar curiosity, but since Vince’s death, her curiosity had been abated, if not destroyed. The smell of blood in the air, didn’t excite her, or entice her. It was then she realized she couldn’t smell any new blood. None. That was odd Killers never missed their prey. She went to the front door and sniffed. The only blood that lingered in the air was that of the weak link that had been killed earlier. What Nisreen could smell was fear, and anxiety. Malik stepped onto the porch with her. She asked, “Do you smell blood?”

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He took in a long sniff and said, “No. Killers don’t always use guns to kill.”

“Then what do you think they are doing?”

“I don’t know. Threatening somebody maybe.”

Nisreen thought, If I had a gun, I could kill. This thought echoed in her mind. Only Killers had guns, but why? Why were guns kept from all the other tribes? This was a question she had never asked herself before, but then she had never wanted to kill before Vince had been killed. Before she watched Vince die, she had accepted her life as it was. Not anymore.

Malik said, “We best go back inside. We don’t know what’s wandering around in the night. Killers kill Killers. Perhaps they are hunting their own kind. I am grateful we don’t do that.”

This was another thing, Nisreen had not thought about. Killers did kill each. Her kind didn’t do that. Would they do it if they had the power of a gun? Physical combat without weapons over mating issues could lead to harm, but only in very rare cases did it lead to death.

Granny came onto the porch.The wind picked up. She sniffed the air. Another shot rang out. The smell of freshly burned gunpowder filled Nisreen’s nostrils, but still no fresh blood. Their was a sharp cry above them. It was Atticus, he swooped down, past them and plunged into the house. Sister and Auntie screamed and rushed out of the house.

On swift feet the Killers emerged from the trees. On their shoulders were their shotguns. Burl, a cocky male shouted, “Have you seen that fool Atticus?”

Mama came onto the porch and asked, “What’s he done now?”

The Killer didn’t answer. He and his group of armed males rushed to the porch and sniffed the air. Their sense of smell was not keen as hunters. Burl barked, “He’s inside isn’t he?

Granny asked, “Why are you after him?”

“That is private information, now answer the question before we go into your home.”

Granny hissed, “You are going to go into our house any way.” The Killers ran up the steps. Malik placed himself in front of the females. He was no match six Killers.

Granny grunted, “We will step aside.” In tandem they did. With those words, she had sealed Atticus’ fate. He would be captured and killed in their house.

As the males passed by they smelled of sweat and anger. While Nisreen had been dreaming of ways to get rid of Atticus, even fantasied of killing him herself. In her imagination, she had not felt as she felt now. There had been power and delusion in her imaginations. Now she felt the cold chill of death creeping close, ready to pounce.

The Killers pushed through the door. In the candle light, the metal of their shot guns glimmered. Two Killers remained on the porch to guard them. From inside came the noise of heavy boots, doors being opened and slammed shut. Because Nisreen’s family was poor, the Killers didn’t have much to look through. In the breeze, Nisreen caught the scent of Papa, he was near. She turned to Granny, Granny smelled him too. Nisreen prayed he didn’t do anything rash. Beside her, her mother and Auntie were praying. Would they be delivered? Sister reached for her hand.

The Killers headed out the back door. Fear filled Nisreen, where they going to hurt Uncle Possim? Please no!

Though they could not see or hear him, the scent of Papa trailed above them. The guards with their poor senses, noticed nothing. Nisreen heard the door to the shed open. Granny let out a soft hiss. “They best not disturb my potions.”

The night wind kicked up again. The scent of Atticus was fresh in the wind. Another smell clung to him Nisreen’s heart froze in her chest. He smelled of Contagion. She glanced at Granny, Granny smelled it too.