Schism

Chapter 28 part 1

Chapter 28

The porch of the second house was essentially a pile of dried timber.  The small fire bomb that the man dropped as he ran off was more than enough to turn the front of the house into a bonfire.

William stopped and stared after the running skinhead.  The voices had told him about Bryan's realization and he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it himself.  They were trying to clear the city.  What was the term?  A sunset town...where someone who wasn't white wouldn't want to be caught after sundown.  Or did Jared Smith want something more severe than that?

He frowned, thought for a moment about going after the skinhead, seeing if he led to Smith.  He realized that for the first time since he had escaped from the hospital that he wanted to fight someone.  Was it just the injustice of what these people were trying to do, or were William's circumstances and condition dragging him down, making it harder to stay calm?

It didn't matter.  His fists clenched and he stepped around the fire to follow the man.

The voices formed in front of him, side by side.

There are two people on the second floor, The Advisor said.

The Caretaker pointed at the back of the house.  Their back door is broken.  They will be trapped inside.

Use the window.  The Hunter prowled around to the side as he spoke.

The irony struck William as he stood there.  For once he wanted to fight and now the voices wouldn't let him.  Ahead, the skinhead had disappeared.  William turned and looked at the burning house.  The Hunter had stopped at a window near the back.

Through here.  The Hunter leapt up through the glass.  William hurried over and looked in.  The base of the window was low, only four feet off the ground.  He peered in, saw the outlines of walls and furniture in the fog and spreading smoke.

The grass at his feet was neatly trimmed and free of anything that could be used to break the tall window glass.  He hurried to the back yard and found a heavy rake near the broken back door.  He returned, stepped to the side of the window and swung the rake.

As he had suspected, broken glass showered down onto the spot he would have been standing on if he'd broken the window by hand.  The voices may be good at protecting him from attacks, but he didn't want to test them against hundreds of glass shards coming down on his head.

There was a rough line of glass stalagmites in the bottom of the window frame.  William ran the rake over them, threw it to the side and began to hoist himself into the house.

And looked right into the barrel of a shotgun.

William looked up the weapon to see an old man standing there in plaid pajamas.  He was easily seventy, his tightly curled hair light gray and receding up from his furrowed forehead and squinted eyes.

"And why would you be breaking into my house?" the old man said.

The Hunter walked around the old man.  The gun is loaded. 

His wife is just up the stairs, The Advisor said.

Be polite, The Caretaker said.  He likes that.

William looked at the voices, held back a retort.  A warning from them might have been helpful before he was looking at the shotgun.  He tried not to move at all, though the ache in his muscles was starting to push past the fog into his awareness.