Free The Protectors by Ryan King Page A

with a powerful swing takes Reaper's head off.
    The room i s still and nearly silent.
    Victor dri ves the bloody sword into Hellspawn's chest before yanking it free and moving forward to jab the tip of his sword into Thor's eye.
    There i s now screaming from the Protected and the Shriekers appear confused about whether they should attack this bloody apparition before them or flee.
    Vict or continues forward. He kicks Skull savagely in the groin and then drives the tip of his sword into the prostrate man's chest before turning to take the top of Bird's Eye head off. He follows this up by slamming the hilt of his sword savagely down on Stormchaser's skull.
    Clay grabs me by the front of my shirt and sticks the barrel of his pistol against the side of my head. "Stop or I'll shoot her."
    The big man slashes downward cutting off Irish's leg before spinning and slicing open Firebrand's abdomen.
    "I'll do it!" screams Clay.
    Victor trips Cowboy as the Shrieker tried to flee and then drives his sword through the man's lover back.
    "I swear to God," shouts Clay, "if you don't stop right now, I'll --"
    The pistol fa lls away from me and Clay collapses on the floor. I look down to see his headless body, his head having rolled off the stage and onto the pile of Protected corpses.
    Victor is past me and continuing in his carnage. I reach down and pry Clay's pistol out of his hand and stand. Mother is there suddenly holding me up. She reaches down and secures Reaper's big knife.
    "Don't let any of them escape," Mother screams out over the crowd. The mass of women seemed to come to life slowly and then with growing intensity. Some of the Prospects have fled out the doors, but newly armed Protected are now chasing them.
    Victor kills Spike, a Prospect who has climbed up on stage, before turning to address the room in a voice as loud and strong as Broily's. "Show no mercy. The Prospects are not part of you. They are Shriekers and must die. Do it now."
    I turn to stare at the big man. "Victor? Is that really you?"
    "It is, Teal," he answers in a clear and intelligent voice.
    "How is this possible," Mother asks.
    Victor smiles and brings the pommel of his sword up to his face. The eye on the hilt shown out clearly through the thin film of blood covering it. "We got your letters. The Knights of the Watch help when they can."
    *******
    Mother and I clean Grandpa's wound with some of Reuben's leftover peach alcohol recovered from the Shrieker House. We then carefully stitching his scalp back on. He sits stoically through it all, his hands clinching the arms of his wheelchair tightly.
    My grandfather has somehow become the de facto leader of Newton. There wasn't an election or even a discussion, people just started bringing their problems to him, and they did what he said. He told everyone to keep doing their Shift Work and to prepare for winter. Grandpa also directed us to repair the burned out Borderland around town by reloading the old booby-traps and digging out the debris from the stake pits.
    We buried the Shriekers in the big communal garden knowing they would make good fertilizer. The Protected we placed lovingly in the New Cemetery, the services, quick and simple. Snow is in the air and there is too much else to do.
    Victor helps . People at first look to him for guidance and answers, but he just shrugs and says, "It's not my town," or "I'm not staying here much longer," or "You need to learn to figure things out yourselves."
    It is strange to have such freedom all of the sudden. I'm sure most of the women act as I do, going about our routines out of habit, expecting the lash or a slap whenever we do anything wrong. We got rid of the Protectors, but their ghosts are still with us.
    Victor still sleeps in our house on the pallet in front of the fire although now he engages us in conversations and stories of his travels. Grandpa eagerly soaks up information and many nights Broily is here too, writing furiously on moldy paper with his left