The room erupted into too many discussions, some shouted across the aisle, others hissed in fervent tones between spouses. Merry pawed at me, asking about Mama. I waved her off, knowing Mama would be disappointed if I didn’t keep her secret.
From the circle of Elders, Amos McCleary raised one dark and shaky liver-spotted hand. He was the oldest man in all of Amity Falls and the head of the Elders. Cataracts clouded his once brown eyes a milky blue, and he used a long walking stick to help him navigate the Falls. On its top was a miniature replica of the Founder Tree, before it had been struck down by lightning. The carved leaves had lost much of their detail, and were polished as smooth as a lake’s surface.
“It seems to me,” he said, speaking with a papery-thin creak, “several questions must be asked before the Deciding can begin.” Amos glanced toward the other Elders. “Are we in agreement?”
The men nodded.
“The first…do we believe that Gideon and others in town have seen these…creatures? Let those who do raise their hands now.”
My hand and Merry’s shot into the air, along with a little over half the room. Beside me, Rebecca hesitated, worrying her fingers around a twist of hair.
“Sam saw them too,” I hissed at her. “You’ll have to start dividing your loyalties eventually.”
After a long beat, she raised her hand, though her fingers curled with timidity and she immediately looked down, avoiding her father’s glare.
“All counted,” Matthias said, marking the number down in his ledger.
“Very good,” Amos said. “And those who do not believe them, will you now raise your hands?”
A smaller amount did. Parson Briard not only hoisted his hand into the air but stood up, making sure everyone could see his vote.
“Then it’s decided,” Amos continued. “We believe the creatures exist. Now,…do we believe they seek us harm? Do we believe they are responsible for the deaths of Jeb—” His voice faltered, breaking. “Of my son, and the rest of the supply train? Let those who believe this to be true indicate it.”
Our trio of hands rose once more.
“And those who don’t?”
Cyrus Danforth and the parson were the only ones to move.
Amos gripped the handle of his cane, hoisting himself with obvious effort. “Very well. Now we are ready to begin the Deciding. As you all know, we cast our Decision publicly, so all the Falls may know our mind. We are one community, relying on ourselves and our neighbors, so it’s only fitting that we know each other’s true minds.”
Leland Schäfer stood up. “The Decision before you, then, is this: We believe the woods surrounding Amity Falls contain a pack of creatures, fast and large. We believe them to be deadly, having already killed some of our own. We have not restocked our supplies since April last, and the winter snows will soon be here. Should we send out a supply run now or wait until spring, when the creatures may have moved on?” He glanced at each of us before continuing. “Are we prepared to cast our votes?”
After a long pause, several heads nodded.
“Then come forward and ready yourselves accordingly. Yellow for a run now, red for waiting till spring.”
Row by row, the town of Amity Falls shuffled to the stumps of the Founder Tree. Beaten copper bowls rested across two of its ringed surfaces, and on the tallest trunk lay a book. Nearly four feet wide when opened, the book contained the votes of every Decision the town had ever made.
Papa cast his vote first, pressing the palm of his hand into one of the bowls. It came out a bright saffron, stained yellow by a mixture of turmeric powder and water. He stepped toward the book, then pressed his hand onto the right side. As he stepped back, allowing others to vote, he caught my eye and smiled encouragingly.
Merry watched the proceedings with rapt attention. It was her first Deciding, and when she got to the front, she hesitated before dipping her hand into the yellow dye. The handprint she left in the book was smudged, from nerves.
I stepped up after her, studying the two bowls before me. I absolutely believed that Papa and Sam had seen some sort of animals in the woods and that those creatures were responsible for the deaths of our fellow townsmen. But did I think there should be a run? Logically, one was needed. Supplies were low; supplies were necessary.
But at what cost?
What Calvin had said was true—our forefathers had made it through winters in the mountains with much less than what we had now. It would be a rough few months, but if we banded together, sharing with our friends and neighbors, sacrificing a little now for a greater good, we could manage it.
On the other hand, how did we know the creatures would leave before the spring run? How could we be sure that, as snow fell and game became scarce, they wouldn’t venture into town?
We couldn’t. We would need more ammunition, more guns, more bullets.
But if we sent a caravan now, Papa would be at the head of it. What if something should happen to him? Mama would never recover. Grief would kill the baby and then her.
The two bowls stared up at me. The yellow turmeric was to the right; the red liquid, made from the dyes of beets and crab-apple bark, to the left. The dyes wouldn’t easily wash away. The founders had wanted to make sure everyone understood that their actions affected the community as a whole. Whatever I decided now would be worn on my hand for days to come, like a brand.
I glanced toward the book, easily picking out Papa’s and Merry’s prints on the right. The left was evenly full of red marks, full of people who would rather wait and hope for a better spring.
Which was the right choice?
The weight of my decision crushed into my chest, like boulders falling down the mountain slopes, until I snapped into action.
My fingers pressed into the dye and onto the page, and it was done.
I stepped aside, allowing Rebecca to cast her vote. As I took my seat, I felt Papa’s eyes on the back of my neck, as persistent as a sunburn.
Once everyone in the hall had voted, making their marks in the great book, Matthias counted up the handprints and whispered the outcome to Amos.
“The Decision has been reached,” Amos said, standing before the crowd, clutching his cane as a tremble shook through him. “This was not an easy Deciding, I know, but a majority was reached and the majority will be carried out. The red marks outnumber the yellow by just one. We will stay in the Falls and wait until spring for another run. Amity Falls has spoken.”
* * *
We trekked home in silence, Papa between Merry and me but not actually walking with us. He was always a step or two ahead, eyes cast to the ground, lost in thought. Merry shot curious glances between us but remained silent, rubbing at her yellow palm.