Morgan Nyberg - Since Tomorrow

Tyrell walked to the western railing and cupped his hands to his mouth. “Stay there” he called. “They`ll go your way if you leave it clear.” His voice was like a volley of cannon shots. The crowd of addicts was silent for a second, then started up again. There was no reply from Fundy’s Bridge except for Wing waving his red warm-up jacket. Then there was a clang on the railing a yard away from where Tyrell stood, followed by the whine of a ricochet and then a noise like a twig snapping.

Tyrell walked unhurriedly, very erect, back to Frost. Together they turned and jogged up the bridge.

Three of the guards and Noor and Jessica and Daniel Charlie stood watching from the cusp of the bridge. Will was there too, with King. Frost and Tyrell crouched behind Richmond and Airport, who had spears and shields as well as bows and swords. Frost said “Better stay down. He’s got the gun.”

Airport said “Is that what we heard? Can it shoot through rusty car-metal?”

Frost did not answer.

Noor stepped forward. She said “Those are addicts.”

Frost nodded and said “Get down.” He reached up, but she shook his hand from her shoulder. She stood there staring coldly down the bridge. She was now the tallest shape in the crowd of defenders. The wind picked up. It bore sharp spits of rain.

Frost crept back to Will. “Run back to the domicile. If anybody wants to fight, tell them to bring their bows.”

Will said “Let’s go, King!”

King had been lying with his head on his paws. He now leapt up, barking and mouthing at Will’s arm.

But Tyrell said “King gots to stay here. He’s our best fighter.”

Will said “But he could get hurt.”

Both Frost and Tyrell nodded.

Will thumped to his knees and hugged the dog, who twisted his head to lick Will’s cheek. Will said “Stay, King.” Then he turned and sprinted down the slope toward Frost’s farm. King stood there whining after him.

Frost watched Will go. Then he went back to his position behind Airport.

Langley’s soldiers were moving up the bridge. The addicts were making more noise now. They went forward only because the soldiers were shoving and kicking them or prodding them with swords and crossbows. The progress was ragged. Shouts of frustration from the soldiers blended with the wailing of the addicts, who dodged the blows of the soldiers when they could and tried to dance sideways or even backwards.

Behind the troops Langley’s rickshaw was visible, approaching at the same laborious rate. From time to time, between the jostling bodies, there was a flicker of his pink quilt.

Daniel Charlie climbed over the lane divider and crept beside Frost. He said “He’s a smart son of a bitch. He knows we won’t shoot on account of the addicts. What’s our plan?”

Frost just shook his head. “Ask the general.”

Daniel Charlie looked at Tyrell, who said “We wait till they get closer. Then we back up.”

“You’re sayin’ we give up? We let them have the farm?”

Tyrell looked at Daniel Charlie with disgust.

“What, then?”

Tyrell said “Once they’re on the farm we can spread out around them. They won’t be able to put the addicts in front.”

“They’ll put the addicts in a circle around the soldiers.”

“They’ll be thinned out. We’ll shoot between them.”

The guards — Airport, Boundary and Richmond — now simultaneously and loudly offered affirming or dissenting opinions. Noor appeared to have heard none of the discussion. She remained tall and upright, with her face wet from the stinging rain. She stared down the slope toward the soldiers. With their agitated human shield, they were two-thirds of the way up the bridge.

Noor stepped forward past Airport’s shield and turned her back on Langley and his men. She shouted “Stand up! Aim your bows and start screamin’!”

Tyrell said “What the hell?”

Noor said “Just do it! Do it now!”

Frost rose first. He shook an arrow from his bag. He fitted it to his bowstring and drew the bow. Noor did the same. Airport, Richmond and Boundary let their shields clatter to the pavement as they stood. Daniel Charlie and Jessica also stood and drew their bows. Tyrell rose last, but it was his roar that caused the addicts to freeze and then to panic.

The soldiers slapped with their swords at the naked or half-naked figures, who refused to go forward toward the raised bows and the war-shrieks. Afraid of advancing but unable to retreat, they darted over the lane divider in both directions. In the generally sideways course of the commotion they fell over one another. One of them dodged around one side of the pack of soldiers and escaped down the sidewalk toward Town. Another, a woman, tried to follow.

Behind the soldiers, above them, Langley rose in his rickshaw. There was no room for him to stand. He slashed at the frame of the rickshaw’s roof with the rifle. It tore free and hung by a shred of fabric against his shoulder. He elbowed the dangling roof aside and aimed the rifle. As the woman bumped past a soldier on the sidewalk and bolted for freedom he shot her.

She flung up an arm and stumbled into the railing. She dropped to her knees for a moment but then rose again and continued running, although not fast. A big man — it was Freeway — jogged up behind her. With the hand not holding his crossbow he jerked her backward by a strand of her stringy hair. Without breaking stride he released her hair and clamped her arm in the same hand. He half-spun and tossed the woman over the railing.

Noor turned to her grandfather and the others. She had stopped screaming. She lowered her bow. The others, Tyrell first this time, also fell silent and lowered their bows. Noor motioned for them to move to the sides of the bridge. Airport and Richmond dragged their shields to the west sidewalk. Boundary dragged his to the east. The others, except for Noor, crouched behind the guards. King whined until Frost called him over and held him by his side.

Noor remained in the middle of the bridge. She raised her bow above her head. Then she slowly laid it on the pavement. She stepped up onto the lane divider and balanced there with her arms spread wide.

But her gesture of welcome was unnecessary. The addicts had already covered half the distance between Langley’s soldiers and Frost’s people. No crossbow was fired. There was a rifle shot, but no one was hit. Then Richmond’s shield gave a twitch. Daniel Charlie, who was crouched behind Richmond, cried “Ow! God damn it!” as they heard the crack of this new shot.

Daniel Charlie tugged his poncho up over his right shoulder. Blood was trickling down his upper arm. He looked at the wound angrily. With a fingernail he hooked the slug out of the shallow depression it had made.

Richmond was trying to pick a flake of rust out of his eye.

Frost said “You OKAY, Daniel?”

“Yeah. I’m wearing my eagle feather. Nothing can kill me.”

“Richmond?”

“I’m OKAY now.” He rose on his knees and heaved the shield over the railing.

The skag addicts ran past with faces of animal terror. One or two managed a glance at their saviours. One held up her hand to touch Noor’s as she passed. There was a swooshing of plastic. There was a smell of sick and filthy bodies.

Noor jumped down from the lane divider.

Tyrell walked back out into the roadway. He fitted an arrow and let it fly. The wind caught the light cattail cane and carried it wide of the bridge.

The others starting shooting arrows. There was the sound of a shot. No one was hit. A crossbow bolt skipped off the pavement and bounced past Noor and after the addicts. Several more sailed over the heads of Frost’s people.

Frost turned and saw one of the addicts fall. Beyond, he also saw Newton, Hastings, Oak and Marpole. He saw Deas. Well behind them he saw Kingsway and Night and Brittany and Rain and half-a-dozen others from the domicile. They had bows and were running up the bridge. One-armed Salmon held a spear. He saw old Joshua. He saw old Christopher, with his waist-length fringe of white hair flying. He saw Brandon. Far behind them Amber was hobbling as fast as she could, leaning on a bow instead of her rebar. They all moved aside and proceeded along the sidewalks to let the addicts pass.