The Listeners

by Jordan Tannahill

  This is all so fucked, Kyle said, glancing towards the window.

  I took hold of his hand, and he gently squeezed it.

  You know you could end this right now, I said. If you just walked out that door.

  He looked back at me, and searched my face—Yeah, and I would never see you again. They’d never let us.

  Maybe that’s the sacrifice we have to make, I said, nodding to the others in the room. For them.

  He shook his head, not willing to entertain it. I need you with me, he said.

  And I need us to leave here, and not in the back of a police car. I’m responsible for you.

  We’re responsible for each other. We entered this together.

  But—

  And we either stay together or we leave together, he said.

  Without saying it, we both knew that if we left together they would separate us. We existed together only in the time that remained for us in that house. Like a man crushed below a heavy weight, who lives only as long as the weight continues to press down upon him and dies the moment it’s removed. I told Kyle that I felt like my life had just totally collapsed in around me, like an addict.

  I don’t even know what’s left if I remove you from it, I said. Or this house. It would just be me alone with The Hum and—

  So don’t. Don’t remove me from it.

  The longer we stay in here, the more this is going to build up until it blows. And when it does it’ll destroy everything. Not just us.

  I know what you two are doing, Howard said, looking over at us. The others in the room fell quiet and turned our way.

  What’s our strategy here? I asked.

  Claire, love, we’ve been over this, Jo said.

  We’re a group, and we make plans as a group, Howard replied.

  Maybe they just need to see Kyle, I said. Or hear from him.

  Jo said that if we stepped out that door, they would separate us and arrest us one by one.

  As long as we stay, we hold negotiating power, she said.

  What negotiating? I asked. They’re asking us to leave and we’re not. We have no demands.

  We demand to be left in peace, Howard said.

  Well clearly that’s not a viable position, I replied.

  We argued for another few minutes, but to no end. After a pause, Mia asked if I was sure I didn’t want something to eat. I told her I couldn’t.

  It’s legit delicious, Jo, Shawn said.

  Oh thanks. It’s just what I could pull together.

  Emily laughed—With three cop cars and a news van outside! I can barely cook when I have Tom’s sister and brother over, I get so stressed.

  Mia asked Nora if she had had enough to eat and Nora nodded. Nora was holding the tiny gold crucifix at the end of her necklace. Jo asked her if she wanted to go somewhere quieter, to pray or calm herself down, but Nora said no, she was fine, thank you. Just then Damian walked back into the room from the kitchen and began detailing plans for a possible escape route through the backyard.

  Howard cut him off—We don’t need an escape route.

  We damn well might.

  What we need is to stay calm.

  This is not just gonna be the local police we’re dealing with, Howard.

  Mia motioned to Damian—Why don’t you come sit with me for a bit?

  Don’t, he snapped. I’m not one of your fucking autistic kids, Mia. Don’t use that ‘come sit with me’ bullshit like I’m one of your kids.

  Mia looked taken aback and threw her hands up in mock surrender. But before any of us could respond, a man’s voice suddenly boomed over a loudspeaker outside. Just to reiterate—The room fell quiet as we all listened. Our intention is not to use force.

  Their intention, Jo said, drily.

  We’re not planning to make arrests.

  Damian crossed his arms—Right.

  We just want to make sure everybody inside’s healthy and safe.

  How nice of them, Leslie said.

  You know, I kind of feel for them, Emily said.

  Mia looked at her—The cops?

  They’re just trying to do their job, Emily said, before turning to Damian. I mean you must empathize a little. You know what it is to serve.

  This response is completely disproportionate to the situation, he replied.

  There isn’t even a situation, I said. It’s just a house with people in it.

  But no one’s telling them that, Emily said. They’re imagining a worst-case scenario.

  Mia said she agreed with Emily—I think we need to send someone out to be a kind of spokesperson.

  No, Howard said. I’ve told you, they’ll rush the door.

  It’s a crime to harbour a juvenile runaway, Jo interrupted.

  But he’s not, I said. He’s seventeen, he’s not a juvenile.

  But if they think we’re holding him against his will—

  I don’t want to go with them, Kyle said.

  Emily held up her hands to calm him—We know.

  They’ll never let me see you again, he said. Any of you.

  Leslie reassured him that we were not going to let that happen; though I wasn’t sure how she could make that promise.

  We can’t let the situation needlessly escalate either, Emily said.

  Mia, having looked something up on her phone, handed it to Jo—Here, look, sixteen without parental consent for leaving home. Yeah? And unless they can prove he’s in some sort of bodily danger they have no recourse.

  Well that’s what they’ll try to prove, Jo said, looking up from Mia’s phone. That’s what they’re trying to assess.

  I was the one who spoke to the officer, Howard said. Their minds are made up. They will come in here and they will arrest us, and they will take Kyle.

  I think we still need some way of communicating with them, Mia said, and Emily nodded emphatically. Silence is way too ominous.

  Well we’re not sending people out, Leslie said. They’ll start peeling us off one by one—

  What about a sign in the window, Shawn suggested. We just write on a piece of paper something, like, I don’t know, ‘Nine of us in here, happy and safe.’ Uh. ‘Gathering peacefully by choice. Please leave us be.’ Or something.

  Oh yeah, that’ll send them packing, Damian said.

  Well it’s better than nothing.

  Definitely, Emily agreed. Silence is a kind of—

  Defiance, Mia said. Like a fuck you.

  I’m fine with a sign, Jo said. Howard nodded, and Nora said she thought it was a good idea. Jo looked around the room. Any strong objections? she asked.

  No one spoke, so Jo rose from her chair, and left the room to get some sign-making supplies.

  And we can keep updating the sign, if we need to, Shawn added.

  Leslie said she didn’t think anyone should stand in the window with it, for safety reasons.

  No, no of course, we’ll tape it up, he replied.

  What, are you afraid they’re going to shoot us or something? Kyle joked, looking at Leslie.

  No, I just think the less of our personal images out there, the better.

  Fewer, Shawn said.

  Sorry?

  Fewer personal images. Sorry, I’m a grammar Nazi!

  Well maybe you should write the sign, she said, with a little laugh.

  Well maybe I will, he replied, imitating her with hilarious accuracy.

  Jo walked back into the room holding several sheets of paper, a handful of markers, and some masking tape. All right, so. Let’s—She placed the pieces of paper on a large coffee table book about Brutalism. Maybe write on this book so it doesn’t mark up the table, she said.

  I love this table, Emily said, running her hand across its surface.

  Thanks, it’s mango wood.

  Okay, Shawn said, moving down onto the floor beside the table. Did we like that? ‘Nine of us in here, happy and safe. Gathering peacefully by choice. Please leave us be.’

  Why do we have to specify the number? Howard asked.

/>   I said that I thought it made us sound like trapped miners.

  So does the ‘happy and safe,’ Jo said, looking at me. Like ‘happy and safe and plenty of oxygen.’

  Maybe something simpler, Shawn suggested, like ‘We are gathering in this private residence—peacefully gathering in this private residence by choice. Please respect our privacy.’

  Damian nodded. It’s good.

  Except that it uses ‘private’ and ‘privacy,’ Kyle said. It’s just a lot of, you know—

  Privates, Shawn said, coyly.

  So just drop the first one, Mia said.

  ‘We are peacefully gathering in this residence by choice. Please respect our privacy.’

  Great, Howard said. Send it to the printers.

  Shawn uncapped a black marker and began to write the sign in clear, bold letters. He misjudged the spacing and had to awkwardly fit the words ‘our privacy’ into an unplanned-for third line, but it was still legible. He then held up the sign and asked—Who wants to do the honours?

  Damian suggested Kyle should. So they know he’s safe and—

  Happy, Mia said. And has enough oxygen.

  And agency, Jo added.

  Shawn handed Kyle the sign. Kyle walked over to the window with it, and shimmied in front of the curtains. I could hear muffled exclamations from the crowd gathered outside. He taped the sign up in the window, and then slipped back behind the curtain, into the room—Another news van just pulled up, he said.

  Howard’s face fell—Are you serious?

  KCTV.

  Holy shit. Shawn smiled, in disbelief, as if he were already in the future and looking back on a wild anecdote. Damian walked out of the room, grabbed his knapsack from the vestibule, and returned, pulling out his laptop. He set it down on the coffee table and brought up KCTV’s broadcast livestream.

  I don’t want to watch it, Howard said, and Mia agreed.

  I kind of do, actually, Shawn said.

  Damian held up his hand to quiet the room—I’ll keep it on mute.

  I can’t do this, Nora said.

  Jo laid a hand on her thigh—It’s awful, isn’t it?

  I—I have to go, Nora said, rising from her chair. Her hands were trembling.

  Go?

  I can’t stay, I’m sorry.

  Jo stood and gently grasped Nora’s upper arms—Hold on.

  I don’t want to do this anymore.

  Everything’s going to be fine.

  I don’t want to be part of this, Nora said, stepping away from Jo.

  But we made a pact, Jo said.

  I know, but I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t breathe in here.

  Do you want to go into the backyard for a moment? Shawn asked her.

  I want to go home, she replied, her distress mounting. I want to see my son. I don’t want to be on TV or, or, or in trouble with the police, I don’t want it.

  Howard rose from his chair—Nora, we need you now. More than ever.

  I’m sorry, she said, shaking her head and tearing up.

  I don’t know what to say, Jo replied. After everything we’ve shown you. Everything we’ve been through.

  I’m sorry. I love you but I need to go home. I need to see my boy.

  So you’re just going to walk out, Leslie said, sharply. Into that mob of police and news crews?

  I don’t have a choice.

  Of course you do, Jo replied.

  This will go away, they will go, Howard said.

  I know, but—

  He took a step towards her—You have to be strong, and you have to be patient.

  But I can’t, I’m not, I’m not strong. I’m scared and I want to leave.

  Yes you are, Jo said. I know you are, I’ve seen it.

  My mind’s made up, Nora said, summoning what was left of her courage. I’m sorry.

  She then turned to the rest of us—I love you all. But I have to go.

  She made to exit but Leslie blocked her—Hold on, hold on. That’s it?

  I will come back.

  No, you don’t get it, Leslie said, pointing her finger into Nora’s chest. If you go, you hurt us all. You make us all vulnerable.

  They will try to turn you against us, Jo said.

  No, I—

  You’re stronger than this, Nora.

  Leslie brought her face close to Nora’s—If you walk out that door, you’re not welcome back.

  Shawn looked shocked—Les.

  That’s betrayal, she shot back at him.

  Nora’s face hardened in defiance—Goodbye, Leslie.

  Nora made to sidestep Leslie but Leslie grabbed her, and restrained her as she began to thrash and shout to let her go, before Jo swooped in to help Leslie, telling Nora—Love, you need to gather yourself, okay?

  Please, let me go, Nora pleaded, terrified.

  Howard reached out to calm her—Nora—

  Don’t touch me.

  We’re all in this together, he said. And we’re trying to protect you.

  Let me go, now. Let go of me—she screamed, her face growing red.

  Jo now had her in an almost full-body lock—Nora, I need you to focus. All right? I want you to tune with me.

  Leslie asked the others for help in calming her. Mia and Damian grabbed hold of Nora’s legs to stop her from kicking. Emily hovered close with no real way to add herself to the struggle. Shawn, Kyle, and I stood a few paces back watching, horrified. I knew I should intercede but I was too stunned to know how.

  Guys—Shawn shouted, over the melee.

  Love, please, Emily cooed, bending down to look Nora in the face. Think of what’s at stake. Damian reminded Nora that if she walked outside now, they would arrest her, and try to break her.

  Enough! Shawn shouted again, his voice drowned out.

  And they’re going to turn you on us, Damian continued.

  I need you to focus, Jo told Nora, who just kept screaming for them to let her go, her voice growing hoarse. Her brow was sweaty, and her hair dishevelled. I could see Kyle was also in a state of shock, watching all of this unfold.

  You’re making this worse for yourself, Leslie told her.

  Bring her down to the ground, Howard instructed everyone.

  Guys, please—Shawn begged. This is crazy.

  On the count of three, Howard said.

  I finally rallied and managed to shout—Just let her go.

  One—

  Please!

  Two—

  Mia suddenly lost her grip, or maybe released it, and Nora wrested free an arm and elbowed Leslie in the stomach, who grunted and doubled over, destabilizing the mass, and Nora tumbled out, her eyes wild with fear, as she gasped for breath. Dios ten piedad de ti, she spat at us, before dashing out of the room, tearing open the front door, and running from the house.

  Jo pointed frantically at the wide-open door, shouting—Lock it, lock it, lock it!

  Damian scrambled to the door, slammed it, and locked it.

  That was not okay, Shawn shouted.

  It didn’t have to be like that, Mia said, shaking her head.

  Leslie straightened up, pained and manic. Good fucking riddance, she barked towards the front door.

  I looked at Leslie, at this woman I had called a friend for nearly half a year, this woman I had shared some of my most intimate secrets with, and she suddenly seemed like a cruel and desperate stranger with another woman’s lipstick smudged across her blouse. She turned to the rest of us—Honestly, I don’t even think Nora ever felt it. I think she was faking it the whole time.

  And then we noticed, on Damian’s laptop screen, the live television feed of Nora pushing past reporters at the end of the driveway. Damian unmuted his computer, and we watched as they descended on her with questions.

  Someone has finally emerged from the house. Let’s just—ma’am?

  How many are in the house?

  Ma’am, what’s your name?

  How many are inside?

  Were you a hostage?

  Jo exhaled besi
de me, shaking her head at the screen.

  My god, Mia murmured.

  What’s happening inside? asked one of the reporters. Can you describe the situation?

  Are you a member of a sex cult?

  Nora looked dazed—What?

  Emily looked up from the screen at the rest of us with horror. Did he just say—?

  No. No, no, Nora said, shaking her head, and doing her best to push her way through the crush.

  Is it a sex cult, ma’am?

  Ma’am, who’s inside?

  Jo just continued to shake her head—Wow.

  Did he say a ‘sex cult’? Emily asked.

  Where the fuck did they get that from? Damian muttered into his fist. Though the moment I heard those two words, I knew exactly who had formulated them, and said them to the press. My heart felt like a time lapse of a rotting orange, mouldering and imploding.

  Who are they? asked another reporter.

  What does that even mean? Emily asked, searching our faces.

  Can you give us names? asked a reporter.

  They are my neighbours, Nora said, looking into the camera, her mascara smeared. They are good people.

  And so it begins, Howard said, to himself.

  As Nora disappeared from frame, a reporter stepped back in front of the camera. So as you just saw, we’re still not sure who that woman was, but she seems to be either a member of the Sequoia Crescent Cult, or possibly someone being held hostage by them. What we do know so far is that seventeen-year-old Kyle Francis—at the mention of Kyle’s name, his yearbook photo appeared on-screen—a recent graduate of F. G. Saunders High School, is inside the house at this moment, allegedly being held against his will. Also inside the house is his former English teacher Claire Devon—a somewhat blurry close-up of my face in the group photograph of the school’s teachers appeared on-screen—who was fired earlier this year after it emerged—

  Leslie slammed the laptop shut—I can’t.

  Thank you, Howard said.

  Shawn pointed to Leslie and Jo—That was fucked up.

  She betrayed us, Leslie fired back. We’re family.

  People can come and go as they choose, he said, raising his voice overtop of hers. If someone—

  You don’t choose your family, Leslie countered. You don’t leave your family when the going gets tough.

  If they’re abusing you?

  Abuse? Jo seemed almost impaled by the word. Who was abusing anyone?