Dead Silence

by Kimberly Derting

  She felt the hot air on the back of her neck again and she brushed at it, trying to make it go away.

  “I knew you were up to something,” the voice behind her said. Violet jumped, whirling to stare into Chelsea’s I-told-you-so expression. “I knew I’d catch you eventually. So what’s the deal, V? Why are you all dressed up like you’re going on a job interview or something? You applying to be a gravedigger?”

  Violet just stared at her friend, her throat constricting as she tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for why she was standing in a cemetery, hiding behind a tree.

  “Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Chelsea said when Violet didn’t answer right away. Couldn’t answer. “So what is it then?”

  Violet blinked, mustering up the only words she could manage, “Where are Jules and Claire?” She looked past Chelsea, still trying to figure out what her friend was doing here, how she’d found her. “Are they . . . are they here?”

  Chelsea shook her head. “I dropped ’em off at school. But after I saw you, I decided I had better things to do than learning inverse trig functions.” She wiggled her eyebrows, letting Violet know that she was that better thing. “Oh, and you dropped this.” She waved a piece of paper in front of Violet, the printed directions she’d been searching for.

  They stared at each other for several long seconds, neither of them speaking.

  Chelsea looked past Violet then, to where the funeral was still underway. To where the three caskets were lined up perfectly, ready to be lowered into the ground. Her brows drew together, and Violet could see her working it out, piecing it all together, and then she turned back to Violet, her expression clearing. “Oh my god,” she breathed. And then again, as she squeezed Violet’s arm. “Oh my god.” She looked at Violet with eyes that were wide and lucid. “It was you, wasn’t it? It was you at the house on the lake.”

  Violet’s heart crashed in her chest, but she didn’t answer. Chelsea didn’t seem to notice. She looked at Violet like she’d never looked at her before, with a mixture of shock and awe. “You were the White River student who found the bodies. And now you’re here, watching their funeral.” She frowned, confused all over again. “Why? Why would you come here?”

  Violet reached up to cling to the tree for balance. Her head was spinning, and she was choking on the accusations her friend threw her way. As if somehow the truth was filling her lungs, making it impossible to breathe.

  She looked at Chelsea, a girl she’d known her entire life. Someone she’d grown up with, someone she’d laughed with and leaned on. This was her friend. One of her very best friends in the entire world. Why shouldn’t she tell her? Why shouldn’t she know what Violet could do . . . and why she was here now?

  She thought of Jay, and how he wasn’t talking to her because he was sick and tired of all the lies.

  And then she thought of her grandmother, and how she’d once tried to confide in someone she’d cared about. Ian. How he’d turned on her and told others her secret. How she’d been considered a freak . . . and had been ostracized by her entire community. By her own family, even.

  But this was Chelsea, Violet told herself, looking into her friend’s expectant eyes. Eyes that begged for an explanation.

  “Come on,” Violet said abruptly, making her decision as she reached for Chelsea’s hand and dragged her away from the shelter of the tree.

  “I don’t get it. What are we doing out here?” Chelsea complained for the millionth time. “When are you going to talk to me?”

  Violet lifted her skirt as she picked her way along the overgrown path. It was cooler here, beneath the canopy of trees, and there were mosquitoes to contend with. She was glad for the sweater she’d swiped from her mom’s closet. “Just wait,” Violet told Chelsea, concentrating on her steps. It was harder to walk in the girly flats than she’d realized it would be this deep in the woods.

  It was easier to concentrate now, though, since the bodies had finally been lowered into the ground and the first soft shovelfuls of dirt had been tossed upon their caskets. The bodies had said good-bye to the earthly world. They had their peace.

  And so did Violet.

  She hadn’t realized just how much tension she’d been carrying until that moment, until the last body had let go. It was almost hard to believe she hadn’t noticed it sooner, the way the muscles of her shoulders had felt bunched and tight, the way her jaw had clenched.

  Everything unraveled now, freeing her as well.

  “How much farther?” Chelsea asked from beside her, swatting at a bug on her arm. “I’m getting eaten alive here.”

  But they were close now . . . very, very close. Violet could feel the vibrations just beneath her skin. Rippling outward as the tiny hairs all over her body stood on end, alert.

  Violet stepped off the path, reaching for Chelsea and dragging her with her. Chelsea stumbled but caught herself before she actually fell. She even managed not to complain about the detour, and instead remained silent as Violet lost herself in the sensation that tugged her . . . reaching into her gut and propelling her forward.

  Ahead of her, Violet could see a soft red radiance, the echo that came up from the ground, near the base of a gnarled pine trunk. A glow that existed only in that single space on the forest floor.

  “Here,” she whispered reverently, bending down and scooping the soil with her bare hands. “I told you it wouldn’t be far.”

  “Um, okay . . .” Chelsea said dubiously, as she fell back and watched, like Violet had lost her mind.

  And maybe she had. Maybe this was all just a huge mistake.

  It only took a second to uncover the body. A dead possum.

  It was ugly and partially decayed and its teeth were still exposed as if it had died trying to defend itself.

  Chelsea staggered backward. “Gross, Vi! What the frak? That’s disgusting!”

  But Violet wasn’t deterred. She stood up and brushed her hands on her skirt. “You asked if it was me who found those bodies at the lake that day . . . ?” Violet said, speaking slowly now, carefully. She paused only for a moment and then plunged ahead. “It was me,” she confirmed, watching her friend closely for signs that this might be too much information to take in at once. “It’s kinda what I do, Chels.”

  “What you . . . ? What do you mean, it’s what you do?”

  Violet pointed at the possum and Chelsea glanced down too, flinching before she looked away again, acting as if she might puke. “I find bodies,” Violet told her.

  She waited for Chelsea to say something, to tell Violet she was crazy or to warn her to stay away from her. Instead Chelsea looked stunned as she glanced first to Violet and then back to the dead animal, and then back to Violet again. Doubt gradually transformed her features.

  And then she pretended to cough the word bullshit, as she propped her hands on her hips. “No one finds dead bodies.”

  Violet shrugged, her brows raised as she did her best to emulate the same cocky gesture she’d seen Chelsea pull off a thousand times before. “I do.”

  “You could’ve planted that.” Chelsea nodded toward the possum, barely able to look at its decomposing form.

  Violet thought about that for a minute. “Really, Chels? Why would I do that? On the off chance that you discovered my little secret and decided to call me on it? And how would I know when that might happen? Wouldn’t I have to plant a dead possum, like, every day or something?”

  “Didn’t say it had to be a possum.” But then Chelsea stopped to consider Violet’s explanation. “So, if you didn’t plant it, find another one,” she challenged.

  Violet shrugged. Cynicism was way easier to deal with than straight-up disbelief. At least Chelsea wasn’t shutting her out. “Fine, but I can’t promise how long it’ll take.”

  “Course you can’t,” Chelsea chided, making it clear that she doubted Violet would ever “find” another body again. At least not the way she’d just found this one. Still, she followed as Violet moved back toward the path that wa
s overrun with branches and roots.

  It didn’t take as long as Violet thought it might. There was another echo nearby, not as strong as the first one, but noticeable nonetheless. It reached into Violet’s gut and tugged her, a sensation she doubted she’d ever really be able to explain to anyone, as if her body were no longer moving of its own accord. As if she were possessed.

  She answered the call, straying from the path, and she could hear Chelsea right behind her, saying nothing at all. The only sounds were the twigs that snapped beneath Chelsea’s sneakers—shoes that were far more suitable for this terrain than Violet’s.

  At first, Violet thought the echo was faint, but she soon realized she was mistaken. It wasn’t faint, it was just . . . melodic.

  This echo was a sound.

  A sound that made Violet grin as she drew nearer, and it grew clearer, louder. It was like she’d stumbled into a carnival, the music lilting and rising.

  No, Violet thought. Not like a carnival, like a carousel. The music reminded her of riding the colorfully painted wooden horses when she was a little girl.

  She stopped suddenly, every nerve in her body telling her she was in the right place. She turned to Chelsea. “This is it.”

  Chelsea gave her a look that told her what she thought about her proclamation: Violet was full of crap.

  But Violet was already turning away from her, falling to her hands and knees as she began brushing away the thin layer of rotting leaves and needles and twigs. Her heart was beating harder than it should, almost as if some part of her worried that Chelsea might be right. That there might not be anything there at all.

  But then she felt it. She let the carousel sound overtake her, relishing this song, one that was so different from what her own imprint had been, with its notes rising and falling over her like a nostalgic rainstorm, drenching her. She smoothed the remaining dirt away, creating a small circle on the ground so Chelsea could see what Violet saw.

  “Holy . . .” Chelsea breathed from over her shoulder now, looking down at the animal—a squirrel, or maybe a rabbit. Something too small and too far decomposed to be recognizable any longer.

  Violet turned back, a sly smile finding her lips. “Bang,” she said. “I just blew your mind.” But she said it quietly, as if she were afraid she might disturb the animal beneath them.

  Then Chelsea leaned away from Violet—and her discovery—as she lifted the hem of her shirt up to cover her nose. “Oh my god!” she gasped. “Do they always smell this bad?”

  “Sometimes it’s worse,” Violet admitted. And it was. Sometimes it was almost unbearable.

  Chelsea took a couple of steps back, and Violet watched her as the color drained from her face. “So, are you telling me this is for real? This body-finding stuff?” Her face had gone chalk white. “This is freaking me the hell out, Violet.”

  Violet reburied the animal, gently mounding the leaves and dirt back in place before standing up again. “Yeah, Chels. It’s for real,” she said. “And no one knows about it. You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone. It has to be a secret. Our secret.” Violet waited for Chelsea to meet her gaze. “Promise,” she coaxed her friend.

  Chelsea nodded, but it was slow . . . the exact opposite of her usual unflappable determination. Her hesitation made Violet uneasy. But then she recovered, and she clutched Violet, gripping her upper arms and leaning so close that Violet could smell peanut butter on her breath. “I promise,” she swore without a trace of doubt. “Whatever you want.” Her eyes were shiny and filled with utter confidence now—just like the Chelsea that Violet needed her to be. “Dude, you know I love you. I’ll do whatever you need me to do. Consider it in the vault.”

  Violet smiled—both on the outside and on the inside. Everything about her felt better . . . lighter. Why had she waited so long to share this? Why had she thought she needed to keep this a secret for so long?

  Chelsea could handle this.

  She could handle this.

  Chelsea’s eyes continued to glitter as she clutched Violet. “You know what this means, don’t you? It means you’re some kind of superhero or something.”

  The smile slipped from Violet’s lips, even as nervous laughter bubbled up her throat. “Uh, no, Chels, it doesn’t.”

  But she could see the wheels in Chelsea’s head already turning. “Think about it, Vi. How many people do you think can do this? I’ve never heard of it before, have you?” She didn’t wait for Violet to answer, she could carry this conversation on her own. “None. And you know why? Because you’re special. Like Superman or Spider-Man or Batman.” She stopped. “Scratch that, not like Batman. He was just some dude with a bunch of cool gadgets on his belt. But you know what I mean, you have a power. A power, Vi.” Her eyes got wide then . . . like, lunatic asylum wide. She was grinning now. “You know what you need, don’t you?”

  Violet groaned, wondering how this conversation had gone sideways. She answered hesitantly, worried about what she might hear next. “What’s that, Chels?”

  “A sidekick!” Chelsea announced, beaming back at her, and suddenly Violet realized why she’d been so worried. Because Chelsea was a lunatic. “And who better to be your Robin than me? Not only can I keep your secret, I can help you.”

  This time it was Violet grabbing Chelsea’s arms. She gave her a brisk shake, trying to snap her back to reality. “I’m. Not. A. Superhero,” she insisted, enunciating each word carefully. “And what, exactly, would you help me do? Comb the woods searching for dead animals? I seriously don’t think we need capes and secret identities for those kinds of adventures.”

  Chelsea deflated beneath her, but she shot Violet a withering stare. “Buzz kill,” she accused. “Fine. No capes . . . got it. But I have, like, a million questions. I don’t even know where to start.”

  Violet just smiled. That, she could totally understand. It was a lot to take in, a lot to process. Chelsea had just discovered that her best friend was some sort of freak of nature.

  She dragged Chelsea over to where there was a large boulder covered with sprinkles of soft green moss. “Here,” Violet told her, waiting till Chelsea got settled. “Think about it for a minute. Then you can ask me whatever you want, ’kay?”

  Violet kept a watchful eye on Chelsea as she sat down. She was glad when the color returned to her friend’s cheeks, and it didn’t take long for Chelsea to gather her thoughts, sounding more like herself again. Flippant, but rational . . . ish. “So, you’re definitely not some kind of necrophiliac or anything, right?”

  “Gross, Chels!” Violet shuddered. “You’re disgusting.”

  “Me?” Chelsea sounded shocked at the accusation. “And you’re trying to tell me that that . . .” She waved her hand toward the newly mounded soil in front of them. “That that isn’t disgusting?”

  Violet thought about it for a second, then half shrugged. “Well, sort of. I guess. But in a completely different way. It’s not like I wanna make out with the bodies I find. I’m only drawn to find them. And only if they’ve been . . .” She hesitated, uncertain how to explain this part. “Only if they’ve been murdered.”

  Chelsea’s eyes grew three sizes larger. “So you’re saying that thing was murdered?”

  “I’m saying it didn’t die of natural causes. Something killed it, probably a coyote or a cat or something.”

  “Okay, okay, okay,” Chelsea said, as if she were glitching. She took a breath. “Okay,” she repeated. “Let’s start at the beginning. How long have you known about this?”

  Violet tried to remember the first time she’d realized she was different, when she knew that she was doing something other kids didn’t do. She was little, that much she remembered. And she’d been with her father, walking in the woods around their house.

  She remembered her father telling her, even then, how important it was for her not to tell anyone about it—what she could do.

  And here she was, confessing everything.

  “Forever,” she said at last. “For as l
ong as I can remember.”

  Chelsea’s mouth dropped open. “And you never said anything . . . to anyone?”

  “Except my family. And Jay,” she admitted guiltily.

  Jumping up from the rock, Chelsea pointed her finger accusingly. “Oh, come on! Are you kidding me? He got to know and I didn’t? How long, Vi? How long has he known?”

  Violet couldn’t stop her laugh. She knew Chelsea wouldn’t like the answer. “Since the summer between first and second grade. He used to help me bury animals in my graveyard.”

  “Your what?” Chelsea asked, her brows and lips all pinched and puckered. “Is that what that thing in your yard is? By the woods?” When Violet just nodded, Chelsea grimaced. “Burying animals in your backyard, isn’t that one of the signs they look for in a serial killer? That, and, like, bed-wetting or something?”

  “I think it’s torturing animals, not burying animals in a graveyard, Chelsea. Big difference.”

  Chelsea sat back down, still shaking her head. Still not happy that she’d been left out of the circle of trust all these years. “Yeah. You’re probably right,” she said, sounding serious now, and Violet wondered if she should be offended that Chelsea had said “probably,” like there was still some doubt. But she’d already moved on to her next question, and she leaned forward, captivated. Morbidly curious. “So, how does it work anyway? How do you know where to find them? How did you find that family at the lake?”

  She’d had to explain this before, but for some reason, trying to find the words to tell Chelsea was harder. And infinitely more important.

  She bit her lip as she lowered herself to the ground in front of the boulder, sitting in front of her friend. She drew her knees against her chest and hugged them tightly. “It’s weird,” she started. “It’s like an itching under my skin at first, like everything inside of me is tingling. Sometimes I don’t even realize it’s happening, I’m just pulled in a certain direction, almost against my will.” She glanced up, stealing quick glimpses at Chelsea as she leaned her chin against her knees. “As I get closer, it changes, and every body develops a unique energy all its own. It’s like a signature. I call it an echo, but only because that’s what my grandmother called it.”