The Slaughterers Page 6

  "But why so many?" said Renata.

  Dominick Campitelli, who stood just in front of them in the crowd of townspeople, spoke over his shoulder. He was just a year older than the two of them and was already at work in the mines.

  "Because they're afraid of us," he said, pitching his voice well above a whisper...loud enough for the robed men to hear it. "Because every time they send some guys to burn a cross here, we send 'em runnin' back with their tails between their skirts."

  "But what about this time?" said Renata. "There's so many of them."

  Dominick snorted. "This time, too. Wait and see."

  Olenka wasn't so sure he knew what he was talking about. As she watched, the robed men continued to stream from the train. She'd lost count of how many had debarked already, but she thought there must be at least a hundred of them.

  A fear that she hadn't felt for years began to build in her chest. A storm was coming, the kind of storm she remembered too well from her early childhood in Poland.

  She recognized the signs. Something terrible was about to happen.

  "This is bad," Mrs. Froelich said behind her. "Why won't the union just take back their men? The Klan's only here because the mineworkers threw out the Klansmen."

  Mrs. Lorenzo, who was standing on the other side of Renata, turned around. "That's not the only reason they're here, and you know it."

  "You don't know what you're talking about," said Mrs. Froelich.

  Father Stanislavski looked back at Olenka and nodded. "They're here because they hate us," he said

  matter-of-factly. "The Wops and the Polacks and the Hunkies take their jobs."

  "Bah," said Mrs. Froelich. "You got a prosecution complex."

  Olenka watched the robed men as they lined up on the platform. She thought Father Stanislavski was more right than Mrs. Froelich gave him credit for.

  Directed by two men with more decorations on their robes than the others, the Klansmen arranged themselves into four columns stretching the length of the platform. They looked like an army, ready to march, their ranks continually swelled by the white-clad comrades who kept flowing from the train.

  Not for the first time, Olenka thought about hurrying home before whatever was going to happen got started. She knew she wasn't safe there. If a storm started--when the storm started--the robed men would surely be at the heart of it.

  Then again, she had a feeling that nowhere in her tiny town would be safe that night. She didn't really think it would make much difference whether she was out in the open or locked away in her family's rooms two blocks away.

  On the platform, the two leaders walked between the columns, talking to the lined-up men. As the leaders passed, the men undid the ties that held their masks in place and lowered the flaps, exposing their faces.

  Most of the men looked straight ahead, like soldiers in formation, but some of them glanced at the townspeople. Olenka couldn't see all of them, and she didn't recognize the ones she could see. They might as well have left their masks in place, as far as she was concerned; to her, the cold, stern expressions of the strangers looked as unreadable and inhuman as the masks.

  She had seen those expressions before, on other men who came in the night. She had seen them in the village her family had abandoned over a decade ago, back in Poland.

  When the leaders had finished walking the length of the lineup, they returned to the front of the group. Standing a little apart from the others, the two men talked in low voices and looked at their wristwatches. The train conductor stepped down from the locomotive to join them.

  "What's happening?" said Renata. "What are they talking about?"

  Olenka shrugged. The conductor pulled a pocket watch on a chain out of his vest pocket. He flipped open the cover and looked at the face of the watch, then said something to the two robed leaders.

  The three of them walked down the stairs from the platform and crossed the track of the siding on which the train sat. For an instant, Olenka thought the men were heading for the crowd...but they rounded the locomotive instead and stood along the main track, gazing in the direction from which the train had come a half hour before.

  As the leaders and conductor stared along the track and checked their watches and talked some more, Olenka looked back at the men on the platform. Draped in white, they stood at attention, maintaining their rigid columns like statues.

  Waiting.

  In front of Olenka, Dominick Campitelli and Nicolo Genovese talked in hushed voices, but not so hushed that she couldn't hear what they were saying.

  "They can hide a lot under those damn robes," said Dominick. "I bet they've got plenty of guns."

  "Pistols," said Nicolo. "Knives, I bet."

  "They must think we're pretty dumb," said Dominick, "if they think we don't have 'em, too."

  Olenka's mouth was dry. The palms of her hands were damp with sweat.

  She could feel it. The storm was closing in.

  Turning, she scanned the crowd for her father, Josef, but didn't see him. She wondered where he was; though she had come straight from Renata's home to the station and had not seen her father since the train's arrival, she had no doubt that he knew what was happening. Lilly was too small a town for word not to have reached him.

  And Josef was too much a man of action not to be doing something about this.

  All the more reason for her to worry when he was nowhere in sight at such a dangerous moment.

  "What are they waiting for?" said Renata.

  "Maybe they're havin' second thoughts," Dominick said loudly. "Maybe they're gonna hitch up their skirts and go home."

  Some of the people in the crowd laughed, but not Olenka. Not Father Stanislavski, either. He looked back at her and shook his head slowly.

  "Not yet," he said, as if his words were meant for her alone. "They won't leave until they're done with us."

  Olenka shivered.

  "The big bad KKK," said Dominick. "Looks like a bunch of sissies to me."

  "Hey, you!" a young man from the back of the crowd hollered up at the men on the platform. "Yeah, you! With the white hat on! I think you need a little more starch in them bedsheets next time!"

  Most of the crowd laughed. The blanket of anxiety that had lain over them since the train's arrival seemed finally to have lifted.

  "Don't'cha know you're not supposed to wear white before Memorial Day?" shouted another young man.

  "No, no," said someone else. "Those are wedding gowns! They're gettin' married!"

  "If those are the brides," yelled a woman, "I'd sure hate to see the grooms!"

  Just about everyone laughed at that one.

  And then, they all stopped.

  The whole crowd turned as one to stare out along the track in the direction that the conductor and Klan leaders were looking. Everyone had heard the same thing at the same moment.

  A distant, high-pitched toot. And there it was again.

  "Oh my God," said Renata.

  The second one had been closer than the first.

  The third was closer yet.

  Father Stanislavski turned and nodded knowingly at Olenka. "This is what they were waiting for."

  Like everyone else, Olenka knew what it was. She had heard it thousands of times before, by day and by night...but never with such a feeling of dread.

  It was the whistle of an approaching train.

  Fifteen minutes later, the train pulled onto the siding behind the first train and unloaded another hundred white-robed men.

  Fifteen minutes after that, every electric light in the town of Lilly went out at once.

  *****

  What happens next? Find out in The Masked Family, now on sale for your favorite e-reading device!

 

 

 
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