Savior by Laury Falter

We need to act together. Now, before it’s too late.”
    As Jameson spoke, the prisoners remained absolutely motionless, listening with apt attention.
    “If you’re tired of living in fear for your lives and the lives of those you love, come with me. We can offer food, shelter, security, community.”
    A few of them turned back toward their village as it laid in ruins, the smoke clouding the air, the tattered clothes lines, the bodies of their loved ones now carefully laid across the ground. It summed up everything they had endured visually but not emotionally. Jameson did that.
    “You are tired, worried for your lives and your loved ones. That is justified. But there is a way to recover. We do it together. We are safer together than apart. Together, we will rebuild. Together, we will overcome. Together, we will forge a new future."
    The first reaction was from a thin man with a bulbous nose. He darted from the group, down the path, and around a tree without speaking a word. Then another one followed. And another. By the time the last of them had left, the first man had returned, coming to a standstill directly in front of us. In his hand he held a broom, the handle vertical to his body, the bristles placed lightly on the dirt. A man in his twenties returned also holding a broom. A girl in her teens arrived then, also carrying a broom.
    “I don’t understand,” I admitted under my breath.
    Jameson stifled a grin as he answered. “They’re agreeing.”
    Sure enough, one by one, they returned, standing erect with their brooms at their side.
    Jameson nodded to them, firmly, reassuringly, and then turned to Theleo and Tavish. “Think you can carry them?”
    Tavish’s eyes grew large while Theleo assessed the crowd.
    “Yes,” Theleo replied, flatly.
    His confidence seemed to inspire Tavish, who gave a hesitant, although positive, answer. “I can try.”
    On that commitment, the entire lot of them swiftly tucked their brooms beneath them, straddling each side with one leg, and prepared to leave.
    It was the first time I had ever seen anyone in our world use a broom, which Jameson must have realized. He leaned toward me and explained, just before we were launched skyward. “Makes sense why so many people relate witches and broomsticks with the northeast, ha?”
    It did, actually. I came to this conclusion just before my feet left the ground.
    When we descended back into the bayou, it was just before dawn. Theleo and Tavish placed us down on docks that either remained intact or had been newly built.
    “They’ve been busy,” Jameson remarked, angling his chin toward the reconstructed shacks, many of which now had purple curtains hanging in their windows.
    The new arrivals clustered together, filling the docks on both sides of the waterway for as far as I could see, their expressions blank and dazed.
    “Who are all these people?” Mrs. Caldwell demanded, edging her way through the crowded dock.
    Apparently, we had landed outside his parent’s shack.
    In his typical relaxed, confident manner, Jameson explained what we’d experienced at the prison in New York, but his mother didn’t share with him the same level of confidence.
    “You offered them safety ?” she asked, incredulous. “What were you thinking, Jameson?” She was furious. I could tell by the shaking that wracked her body.
    “There is safety in numbers,” Jameson replied evenly, feeling confident in his judgment. “We are safer if we stay together. It’s our meager numbers and distance from one another that leaves us vulnerable.”
    “What happens when the Vires return to that prison and find them missing?”
    “They’ll know their prisoners have escaped, which is why we don’t have much time.”
    She stood back, shaking her head, too appalled to argue. Jameson turned and leapt across the water to the next dock. I followed, but my cloak slowed me down and it took considerable effort to catch up with him.
    “I know what you’re doing,” I