In the Guards’ Wake

Roberta stood in the middle of chaos, feeling nothing and everything. Her body screamed, wanting to react viscerally, but her mind couldn’t grasp enough to react. The stalls from the market lay splintered. Fruit, cloth, and trinkets all lay liberally mixed together.

Only a madman could have called for this.

Roberta stepped forward. Her legs trembled, and she was certain they would give out, dropping her to the ground. If they did, she wouldn’t get up again.

They held, trembling into another step. Then another.

Roberta turned. A child clung to his unconscious mother, mouth open and tears pouring down his face.

Sound rushed back. Roberta surged toward them. Hearing his wail, she grasped the child’s shoulder. She crooned reassuringly, even as she reached for the mother.

The woman groaned when Roberta touched her, and Roberta sighed with relief. Too many would never groan again. Not after today.

The woman’s unfocused eyes turned toward Roberta. “What happened? I don’t understand. What happened?” The words repeated, wailed as the woman grasped her child.

“It will make sense,” Roberta said. “It will make sense in time.” The woman’s eyes refocused on Roberta and she saw the bitterness behind them.

Did Roberta even believe that lie? Did she believe that one day it would all make sense? How could sense be forged from nonsense?

This was nothing but nonsense.

Raising her eyes, Roberta took in the wreckage left in the guard’s wake. Only a madman could have called for this.