The Great Silence

by Emery C. Walters

  Our idiot friend continued, only singing now, “You say po-tay-to, and I say po-tah-to.’” He stopped to wipe his eyes. “Things have come to a pretty pass, your chest is growing flat.”

  Finn came out with a famous line, forever etched into our history as a chosen family, “I’ve been male less than a year, and already I hate men.”

  “We’ll pass a couple more pharmacies and grocery stores on our way to the cathedral later. We’ll see what we can find for you. And a thrift store if you want to grab some clothes.”

  “Thrift store?” said Burk, aghast. “Do they carry Ralph Lauren? Calvin Klein? Giorgio Armani? Don’t you have any name brands here? I can’t…”

  At the same time, Finn said, “I’d love to! Sounds like fun to me!” Then he looked at Burk and raised one eyebrow. “You’re wearing something from Kmart, Burkieboy. Kmart!”

  They looked daggers at each other.

  To break the tension, I threw in, “Since we don’t have any women, who will do the dishes?”

  They both threw napkins at me, but peace was restored.

  * * * *

  An hour later, we were on the road. We’d decided to walk, rather than use up gas or fight abandoned cars, or whatever. And it wasn’t raining. I wished we had bulletproof coats, if there were such things. Or vicious dogs. We had decided to go to the cathedral first and hit shops on the way back. We had walked about a mile when we saw someone sitting on a bus bench. Coming closer, I saw it was a very old woman, holding the hand of a small boy.

  “When does the bus come?” she asked Burk. “I have to take my brother to the church. The church hid us during the war, you know. They pretended we were Catholic and fed us and saved our lives. Now I have to take him with me, like I did the first time, only I have to be careful not to lose him this time.” Her face, though very wrinkled and spotted, filled with emotion, and pain crossed her features like cramps. “I didn’t mean to lose him. I won’t lose him this time.”

  Burk knelt down in front of the two. “Your—brother—looks tired. Why don’t I carry him for you, and you take his hand and come with us?” He gestured for me to come closer.

  The old lady looked tired enough to be carried herself. Even after Burk picked the boy up—he might have been two or three years old—the old woman would not let go of his hand and just walked as close to Burk as she could. Luckily, we didn’t have much farther to go and could see the spire beyond the next block.

  I was moved to a great silence by all this. Her memories must have taken over her mind completely. I didn’t dare break into them. The thought of forcing our present reality onto her previous nightmare just seemed too cruel to me. I hoped even harder than ever, however, for there to be a priest still alive and whole at the cathedral.

  Chapter 10

  We reached the front in a ragged line, and since the great doors were closed, we walked through the parking lot to a small side door. When I pushed on it, it opened. We walked in one by one, mostly, into the great cavern of the nave, and stood in a row on a side aisle. It was completely quiet, but I noticed fresh flowers on the altar and a lit candle nearby. Then I saw someone sitting in the front pew, kneeling actually, and as he heard us and rose, I saw he wore vestments. I didn’t know what rank or even what season was represented, but I still sighed in relief at there being someone, anyone, here.

  “Come in,” he said in a quiet but carrying voice, one used to projecting. “I’m not really a priest, but I play one on…oh, don’t mind me. My sense of humor gets to arguing with my sense of propriety. Just call me Phil for now. All are welcome here. Let’s step back into one of the offices. This way, please, unless you wish to pray first. The boy looks tired. Are you all hungry?”

  We nodded.

  He needed a shave. His garments were dirty and tattered. He also had a black eye. When he saw I noticed, he said, smiling grimly, “Someone decided our meager wine needed to be freed, also the small change in the prayer boxes in the children’s room. He could have just asked. I’m happy to see so many of you. Come in and sit down while I get some snacks. Is soda all right? There are tons of cans of soda.”

  Finn was antsy. “May I take mine into that room we just passed, the one with the piano?”

  “Of course. That’s the children’s room that was ransacked, but they left the piano alone. Who would steal a piano?”

  Finn and Burk exchanged a glance, and Burk nodded and pretended to stroke an imaginary beard, but he went with Finn anyhow. In just a few minutes, we heard piano music, light, lilting. I didn’t know it, but it wasn’t hard rock like you might imagine. Finn was good.

  The old lady spoke up again. “My name is Helga. This is my brother Hans. I found him. Maybe I never did lose him. Mother told me to hold onto his hand, and I did, but he wanted to chase after a puppy he saw. Will you hide us again? Mother said you would.”

  Phil turned a steady gaze on the old woman.

  The little boy was eating crackers and swinging his feet. He looked completely at ease, though dirty as a little beggar. “Potty?” he asked when he realized people were looking at him. “I can go potty by myself and wash my own hands!”

  Phil said, “It’s through that door. Don’t be afraid. We’ll hide you.”

  Helga stood up and took him by the hand. She wasn’t about to lose him again. It was beautiful to see, but sad, so very sad, to think of what must have happened all those years ago.

  After they left, Phil turned to me. “She thinks it’s World War II again, doesn’t she? Oh, I just realized she has a yellow star on her sweater. I’ll have her take it off. Then I can find them both some clean clothes, and they can stay here, unless they’re part of your—family?”

  I just shook my head. The comfort I had just knowing I wasn’t the only person left alive to look after others was overwhelming.

  “This isn’t really my church, I’m afraid,” Phil blurted. “And I’m not really a priest or bishop or whatever they call themselves here. I was pastor of a small parish on the Olympic Peninsula, over here for a conference. I got trapped here, but I have no family anyhow. I came here, hoping there would be others. This would be a natural gathering spot, wouldn’t it? And Compline…I loved that. I wished we’d had that service, or rather Office, as it’s called, I guess. I’ve been reading up on it. I’m going to hold services anyhow. People may show up. I wish I could ring the bells. They used to be rung by hand. Maybe we could make them manual again, if…”

  “I can do it,” Burk said from the doorway. “It can’t be any harder than defusing a bomb underwater or waiting on a rich bitch with a spoiled, sick dog on an airplane.” And he wandered away, muttering something about a wrench. From the other room, beautiful music still came from the piano.

  “You have lovely boys there.” Phil sighed. “Are they yours?”

  “They are now,” I replied. A pang of jealousy swept over me, and I almost laughed out loud at myself for it. But why shouldn’t I feel that way? They were all I had now, them and the two cats.

  There was a peaceful silence between us then, and I realized I really liked this man, no matter what his role or position was. He was quite ordinary in a peaceful way, brown hair, brown eyes, black-rimmed glasses. He, too, needed a shave. He had a lovely smile, and I trusted him, and that was like a great gift. The piano music changed, and I realized it was a hymn; not one of my all-time favorites, for we had sung it around my grandfather’s hospital bed as he lay dying years before. It was the Navy Hymn, “Eternal Father, Strong to Save.” It was moody and spooky, and I found myself crying. I wondered again about people on ships, men in submarines, and Nevil Shute’s old book, On the Beach. I wished he’d stop and play something perkier, like “The Ants Come Marching.”

  Phil said, “Hymn 512, in the 1940 book. They used it as a processional at the Naval Academy when I was there.”

  And then there were bells. They rang and rang, all together, all at once, some discordant—did bells go off key, like pianos or voices? I had a vision of Burk up t
here, swinging gaily on the ropes, having the time of his life. Then I was afraid he’d fall. I needed a valium. I’d never had one, but now would be a good time to start. I guess if he’d been in the Navy back in sailing ship days, he’d have been swinging from the rigging or something.

  “He’s a regular little monkey,” I said.

  “Good-looking little monkey.” Phil blushed.

  Another one? Well, he was closer to Burk’s age, and they both had been in the Navy. I was just another fat old man in his fifties, dreaming of youth and love.

  “We should go,” I said abruptly. As I stood up, I caught Phil’s eye, and I could swear he was reading my mind. I closed my eyes and sat down again. In a fit of true brilliance, I asked, “So, did your burglar get all of the wine?”

  Phil smiled and opened the bottom drawer of the desk beside him. We sat and took turns drinking. From the neighboring room, we could hear the old woman’s wavery voice singing lullabies to the child. The piano music stopped, and I caught a glimpse of Finn following the chimes of the bells. Music was his muse. Sure enough, after a while, we heard the bells sounding a bit more organized. Now I could picture two of them swinging like monkeys on the ropes. I closed my eyes and prayed for their safety.

  “They lived through all this. They’d better not die falling out of a belfry,” I muttered, reaching for the wine.

  “You love those boys, don’t you?”

  “Greatest gift I’ve ever had.”

  “I guess I got the old lady and the baby.” Phil sighed and drank. “Did you know the population of Seattle is just over 700,000? And the whole metropolitan area is around four million souls. I don’t know if that includes the bastards who don’t have souls, though.”

  I thought. I came up with this: “So ten percent of 700,000 is 70,000, and half of those are lesbians, so 35,000 with a 98% mortality leaves…700, minus me and Burk. There should be 698 other gay men here in town still alive.”

  Phil spit wine down his shirt. He took another slug to replace it. “You mean 697 others.”

  “And transmen. Well, we don’t know which way Finn will go when he’s really all him finally.”

  “Hush, will you? I can’t afford to keep spitting wine down the front of myself!”

  We were comfortably silent for a while. From the next room, there was loud snoring.

  “Listen,” Phil said. “Those little geniuses have the bells working. It’s…wait…‘Oh Come All Ye Faithful.’ I wish they could play ‘Dinner at Six’ so we’d know who else is still alive. It would have to be a potluck, of course. Hee hee, then we could meet the lesbians. Oh, sorry, little small town joke there.”

  “Before all this electric noise crap, people used acoustic megaphones. I bet Burk would be able to make some, then you could do your dinner invitations. That aside, we’re worried about the dead bodies piling up. Finn saw a man using a backhoe or something to make mass burial sites, then he’d go live in those people’s house for a while. What a great, if unusual, idea. We need to do something for health and safety, let alone to feel like civilized people again. There may not be enough of us to form work parties, or enough who are willing, either.”

  Just then, there was a tension in the air, and this was followed quickly by a series of loud explosions. We both ducked and bumped heads behind the desk. Phil laughed nervously and started to shake, and I put my arm around him. It felt good, and I didn’t feel like I was robbing the cradle like I would have with Burk. Then the lights in the room went out, and we heard what sounded like transformers blowing.

  Phil shuddered, smiled up at me, and said, “My dear, we’ll always have Paris.”

  Of course, you know that cracked me up. I was still laughing as we stood up, and Finn and Burk came running back into the office. Burk’s face when he saw he holding Phil was a mix of shock, anger, fear, and softness. I had to look away.

  Phil shook himself to stop shaking, I swear that’s what he did. Then he stood taller and said, “I’ll go check on my house guests, A.K.A. Grandma and…fuck it, Phil Junior. No, wait, Helga and Hans.”

  I caught his gaze and grinned. He made a face I can’t describe, but went to check on them anyway.

  Finn said meekly, “Didn’t Edgar Allan Poe write a poem about bells?”

  Burk shrugged one shoulder. (I think it’s a gay thing.) He was still staring at me. “And Phil is closer to your age than mine how?” He raised one eyebrow and pouted. His right eye twitched. “I guess I’m just a bell-ringer in this version of The Birdcage, aren’t I?” He stalked out of the room and stood in the hall, confused and hurt, and funny as hell to me.

  I was also immediately ashamed of any lingering jealousy I might have had.

  Finn just sighed. “I hope I still prefer girls,” he said. “But there’s not much to choose from anymore.”

  “Let’s get going.” That was Burk.

  “Can I come back?” Finn asked.

  Phil had returned and said, “Please do.” I think he meant Finn, but he winked at me. “However, if I can ring a bell, I’ll just start and do it whenever I can. Someone will hear and come. Can you all come back on, I dunno, what is today? Thursday? Can you come on Saturday around noon? I’ll do lunch. We have plenty of food, so far, and maybe we can plan a service, and Burk can show me the ropes, so to speak.”

  Burk raised one eyebrow and licked his lips but cut his eyes at me and did the one-shoulder thing he does.

  Finn said, “Find lots of sheet music. and I’ll have a go at some more hymns. I can’t play everything by sight. Are there Jewish hymns? Or do they just chant? We’ll have to do something for Grandma Helga, too. Although, if she thinks she’s still a child herself, then we shouldn’t call her the grandma part.”

  As Phil walked us back to the side door, Burk turned to him. “I made a sign on the wall, and each rope is tied off to a different bolt or hook. I dunno what they are. But if you can read sheet music at all, you’ll see which bell produces what note. Middle C ended up in the middle, so there’s that. And when we come back, I’ll help you figure out tunes, or we can play together. No pun intended!”

  Then Burk hugged Phil so hard, I thought his back would break, but he bent enough to let the shorter man reach around him. Phil accepted his peace offering as just that. Burk knew he’d been rude earlier and that he was more than making up for it now. A quick smile of pride lit his face. He knew how to do so much and was so proficient and skilled. I had to wonder what had happened that had left him feeling not-good-enough. Because that sucked.

  Chapter 11

  We saw no one on the first half mile back. It was a beautiful day for Seattle, sunny but not hot, white clouds over the mountains to the east and west. I wondered if people still lived on the plains or had gone running up into the mountains, feeling safer. There were probably some, and then east of here, in Idaho and Montana, groups of survivalists who had, hopefully, stayed out of the Blue Plague’s way and survived. When we came to the grocery store, we all went in, and after I checked all the aisles, we split up, each with a cart and some plastic bags. Returning to the front, we shared notes.

  “I found testosterone and syringes and girl stuff that I still fucking need, so I’m happy. And lots of chocolate, so I’m really happy.” Guess who that was.

  Burk just smiled and showed me some boxes of condoms and lubes. He’d also visited the pharmacy, and it looked like he’d just thrown things at random into his bag. “I even went in the back and found some batteries as well. Can’t have too many of those.”

  I’d bought some things for gifts for these two kids of mine and some catnip toys, more seeds, all the matches I could find, and Pop Tarts. Those things never went bad, like Twinkies, only I didn’t like Twinkies.

  When we got to the thrift store, I watched the bags outside while the other two ran in and basically just grabbed things that seemed to be the right sizes. The place was a mess, so it took time.

  “On our way back on Saturday, we can pick up things for Helga and Hans, toys and sp
are clothes and whatever else that might cheer them up,” Burk said.

  “And I found sheet music, too! And some books for the boy,” Finn said.

  The rest of the way home, we chatted quietly, watching around us. I knew that with the day’s successes, we might easily become careless. Loaded down as we were, it would be hard to fight anyone off or run for cover. We only heard birds and some music in the far distance. I couldn’t tell if it was live or recorded, if someone still had something running on batteries, like maybe a car radio. We saw no other people and took our bags home before all three of us went on to the house with the ham radio. By then, it was mid-afternoon, and I wanted a nap.

  We entered the house, locked the door behind us, and split up. The house was a smaller version of my own and probably as old, given the neighborhood. Burk went right into a side room, probably something like the den in mine, where I could see racks of radios and other equipment.

  I heard him mutter, “Rats, no power. Okay, let’s see if there’s a generator.”

  The living room was done in gold and had an avocado-colored shag rug. There was a huge, and now useless, television. Newspapers were strewn all over the couch and coffee table, which was covered in empty coffee cups and beer cans. Granny didn’t live here anymore to keep it clean. I followed Finn into the kitchen. He was standing in front of the refrigerator, with the top freezer compartment open.

  “Look,” he burbled, “Pizza! Frozen pizza, and it’s still half frozen.” He turned to me, radiant. “They have a gas stove! We’re having pizza for dinner, Daddy-o, if you think it’s safe!”

  I smiled and shrugged. It took so little to make him happy.

  Next, I wandered out onto the back porch and opened the connecting door to the garage. Poking around the two cars in the dark, I found mobile radios in both.

  Burk will like these, I thought. I’ll have to tell him about them.

  I looked at the tool bench and helped myself to a couple that were better than what I had. I felt a bit guilty, but got over it. Nobody here needed them anymore. I walked back in the house and down the basement stairs, flicking the lights on twice before I remembered. I went back to the kitchen, rifled through the drawers until I found a flashlight, and headed back down again. Behind me, Finn started singing the theme song from Jaws. Thanks a lot, kid. I hadn’t been scared until then.