Free The Protectors by Ryan King Page B

hand.
    "I'll have to leave tomorrow," Victor announce s abruptly one morning.
    Mother, Grandpa, and I look at each other in concern. "You can't leave," I finally say.
    "I can and I will," he answers around a mouthful of bread.
    "But we need you," I say.
    "My fa mily needs me more."
    Mother was surprised. "Your family?"
    Victor chuckles . "Margaret, I know you think I'm a vicious killer, not to be trusted, but I have a wife, two little girls, and a son waiting for me back east. I promised them I'd try to be home for Christmas."
    "Christmas," I whisper reverently. We had of course heard the wonderful and fanciful stories of this mythical holiday, but never experienced it. The Shrieker's had forbidden celebrations. "Can we have Christmas?" I ask Grandpa.
    He nods slowly. "I don't see why not. Be good for us , I reckon."
    "You sure you don't w ant to wait until spring?" asks Mother. "They'll be snow soon and it sounds like a long way."
    "I appreciate the offer," sa ys Victor, "but I've already stayed here too long. Tomorrow morning I'll take my leave, got a few preparations to make today."
    Grandpa nod s. "I can help you with that."
    Victor gr unts and keeps eating.
    I go about the day noticing things as if for the first time. Of course life seems different without the Shriekers, but I guess I had imagined that Victor would now be our new Protector. I see how open the Borderland is. Anyone could walk into Newton if they wanted. The pits, booby-traps, and barriers are good, but we need something more. Otherwise it will only be a matter of time before some other road gang or pillagers come through.
    We need what Broily had called in one of his stories a militia. It would be years before the young boys were men, but I realize we women could fight too. We had already. We would have to if we wanted to protect what was ours.
    Like the dogs, I thought , watching them patrol the edge of the goat herd. We'll need to patrol our perimeter. Even the Shriekers had gotten lazy and complacent, I realize. They weren't really protecting us at all.
    We can do it, I decide. Newton does n't need any outside help. We have everything we need. Mother will help. So will Sarah and the other girls.
    Newton still gather s each night after dinner for the Remembering, but the nature of the stories is starting to change. Others talk besides just Broily and now some of the stories are remembrances of the Shriekers and the things they had done. It still surprises us sometimes that they are gone.
    "Polishing and cleaning their old motorcycles was somehow the worst," sa ys Juliette, now without her Chit. "Most of what we had to do was to serve them or satisfy some urge, but taking care of the worthless bikes seemed like rubbing our faces in their complete control of us. I also think in some ways they missed those old days when there were able to ride on the roads."
    "They'd even make the Prospects spend time sitting on the bikes," added Tammy. "As if they could experience riding that way and become like the Shriekers."
    Victor st ands suddenly and stares out over us. The room becomes respectfully silent.
    "You may have heard that I will be leaving tomorrow," he sa ys.
    Although this wasn't news to most people, a murmur of dismay spread through the crowded room.
    "I'd like to tell you the story of the Knights of the Watch. Of simply the Watch as we call it and how it all began. Maybe it will help you."
    Nearly everyone looks at Broily at the mention of the Knights. Some surely feel guilt for doubting the old man. All are grateful for his sacrifice which made their freedom possible.
    "At the End," sa ys Victor, "we didn't understand what was happening. Didn't know it was the end of everything. We were so accustomed to others solving our problems that we sat back and watched things get worse. The police and military and government simply melted away or took from us. We waited almost too late to act."
    Victor glances around the room and grimaces. "It may be hard to