Blood Red Road

My head spins round an round. I groan.
    Saba! Lugh shouts. Are y’okay?
    Another flash an boom splits the darkness. I think it’s headed away from us, but I cain’t be sure, my head’s so muddled. My ears ring.
    Saba! Lugh yells. Where are you?
    Over here! I call out, my voice all thin an shaky. I’m here!
    An then Lugh’s there, kneelin beside me an pullin me up to sit.
    Are you hurt? he says. Are y’okay? He slips his arm around me, helps me to stand. My legs feel all wobbly. Did it hit you?
    I … uh … it … knocked me offa my feet, is all, I says.
    Then, as we stand there, the dark rolls away.
    An the world’s turned red.
    Bright red like the heart of a fire. Everythin. The ground, the sky, the shanty, me, Lugh—all red. Fine red dust fills the air, touches every single thing. A red red world. I ain’t never seen nuthin like it before.
    Me an Lugh stare at each other.
    Looks like the end of the world, I says. My voice sounds muffled, like I’m talkin unner a blanket.
    An then, outta that red dust haze, the men on horses appear.

    There’s five of ’em. Ridin sturdy, shaggy coat mustangs.
    Even in normal times we don’t git folk passin by Silverlake, so it’s a shock to see strangers blowin in on the tail of the worst dust storm in years. The horsemen pull up near the shanty. They don’t dismount. We start over.
    Let me do the talkin, Lugh says.
    Four of the riders is dressed in long black robes. They got on heavy leather vests strapped over top an sheemas wrapped round their heads. They’re dusted head to foot with red earth. As we git closer, I can see the fifth man’s our neighbor, Procter John. He’s ridin his horse, Hob.
    As we come in earshot, Lugh calls out, Strange kinda day fer a ride, ain’t it, Procter John?
    Nobody says nuthin. Their sheemas cover the riders’ faces so’s we cain’t see their expressions.
    Now we’re right up near ’em.
    Procter, Lugh nods. Who’s yer friends?
    Procter still says naught. Jest stares down at his hands holdin the reins.
    Look, I whisper to Lugh. Blood trickles out from unner Procter John’s hat, snakes down his face.
    What’s goin on here? says Lugh. Procter? By the sound of his voice, I can tell he thinks somethin ain’t right about this. Me too. My heartbeat picks up.
    Is this him? says one of the men to Procter John. Golden Boy here? Is he the one born at midwinter?
    Procter John don’t look up. He nods. That be him, he says in a low voice.
    How many years you got, boy? the man says to Lugh.
    Eighteen, says Lugh. What’s it to you anyways?
    An you was fer definite born at midwinter?
    Yeah. Look, what’s all this about?
    I told you he’s the right one, says Procter John. I should know. I bin keepin a eye on him all this time like you told me to. Can I go now?
    The man nods.
    Sorry, Lugh, says Procter John, still not lookin at us. They didn’t give me no choice.
    He clicks Hob an makes to leave. The man slides a bolt shooter from his robe. I know he must be movin fast, but it all seems to go so slow. He pulls the trigger an shoots Procter. Hob rears in fright. Procter slides off an lands in a heap on the ground. He don’t move.
    A cold jolt runs through me. We’re in trouble. I grab Lugh’s arm. The four men start movin towards us.
    Fetch Pa, Lugh says. Quick. I’ll draw ’em away from the house.
    No, I says. It’s too dangerous.
    Move, gawdammit!
    He turns. Starts runnin back towards the lake. The men heel their horses an head after him. I run like stink fer the storm cellar, fast as my feet’ll carry me.
    Pa! I yell. Pa! Come quick!
    I look over my shoulder. Lugh’s halfways to the lake. The four riders is spreadin out to make a big circle. Lugh keeps runnin, but he’s caught in the middle. They start to close in, tighten up. They’re trappin him. One unhooks a rope from his saddle.
    I pound my foot on the door of the storm cellar.
    Pa! I scream. Pa! Open up!
    The door creaks open. Pa’s head appears.
    Are they here? he says. Have they come?
    You seen this comin. You read it in the stars .
    Four men! I says. Quick! We gotta stop ’em!
    Emmi, stay here! Pa scrambles outta the cellar. They cain’t be stopped, Saba. It’s begun.
    His eyes look flat. Dead.
    No, I says. Don’t say that.
    Now Lugh’s trapped by the circlin horsemen. He darts at a gap. They block it. He stumbles, falls, picks hisself back up agin. In the dusty red haze, it don’t look real.
    Don’t jest stand here! I yell at Pa. Help me!
    I dive