The Lawless: A Narrative Fiction

Tim continued. “The three means sector three and the rest of the number sequence is the number assignment.”
Branch asked, “What was the device the other man used?”
“Son, I don't know. I've never seen anything like it.”
Pops cleared his throat. “Does this mean the Lawless are coming?”
Tim stood and wiped at the dust on his pants. “Could be. It's hard to say, Tom.”
Pops nodded and then looked at me. “How did you know to get your bow, girl?”
I looked at the inquisitive faces. “I don't know, Pops. It was instinct.”
“Damn good instinct,” Mark Sims said and the crowd murmured in agreement.
Pops patted my shoulder. “Well done, girl. Well done.”
I smiled a shallow smile. I knew it wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
While the men buried the dead man, I slipped away to the safety of my porch. Too many villagers had whispered thanks or given praise. I didn't feel like a hero and I didn't want their praise. I had protected my family and would do it again. It felt no different to me than if I had killed a raging boar.
Her cool hand sent goosebumps scattering across my back. As always, she spoke with a heavy Southern drawl. “You did a good thing today, Tenya.”
“Nan, I didn't do anything.” I slumped under her hand. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“It's possible you saved their lives and they are grateful,” Nan said as she took a seat next to me. “We don't know what those men had planned to do, but from the looks of it, it wasn't pleasant.”
“One of them got away,” I