Chapter 10. Blood in the Wind

One day followed another. A week passed and then two. Vince’s had family ended their fast. Fresh kills were happening again and there was not any more hunger. A week passed and then another. There hadn’t been any signs of Atticus since his appearance at the window. 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. 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 was, wouldn’t that mean it could also puncture the heart?

The candle flickered. The 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 the Wise Hermit. Something has to be done about Atticus. His scent is ever in the wind.”

At breakfast her 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 her 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! The killers were out. They never missed their prey! Who had they killed this time? Papa was on his feet as was Malik.

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Mama begged, “Don’t go, please don’t go.”

Papa said, “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 curiosit, but 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 fresh blood. None. she went to the front door and sniffed. The only blood that lingered in the air came from the weak link. What Nisreen could smell was fear, and anxiety. Malik stepped onto the porch with her. She asked, “Do you smell that?”

He took in a long sniff and said, “Yes. Killers don’t always use guns to kill.”

“Then what do you think they are doing?”

“I don’t know.”

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. She had accepted her life as it was before she watched Vince die.

Behind her Granny said, “You two come 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.

The wind picked up. Granny sniffed the air. Another shot rang out. The smell of 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.

It was then, that the Killers came out of the woods with their shot guns. One called out, “Have you seen that fool Atticus?”

Granny asked, “What’s he done now?”

The Killer didn’t answer. He and his group of armed males reached the porch and sniffed the air. Their sense of smell was not keen. Again the lead Killer said, “Have you seen him?”

Granny asked, “Why are you after him?”

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

Granny said, “You are going to go into our house any way.” She called out, “Sister, my girls, come out here now.” Sister, Mama and Auntie were immediately on the porch. They huddled around Granny. She told the men, “Go on search if you must.” With those words, he had sealed Atticus’ fate. He would be captured and killed.

While Nisreen had been dreaming of ways to get rid of Atticus, even fantasies 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. It chilled her.