“It’s not exactly on my TBR list,” Ellie said. “I don’t do fiction.”
“Watch the film creepo,” Fern said.
Ellie shrieked. “Hey! What’d you call me that for?”
Reggie caught sight of Ellie whacking Fern on the arm. He inhaled slowly, exhaled slowly, and then turned his attention back to the road.
“Pack it in children,” Terri said.
She turned back to Reggie.
“You were saying?”
Reggie frowned. “What? About Talbot being your number one fan?”
“Talbot can’t be my number one fan,” Terri said. “There aren’t enough explosions in my shows to keep his lizard brain interested.”
“You’re an act-orrrr,” Reggie said. “That’s plenty exciting enough for lizard brain. What else has he got going in his life? Laura isn’t exactly a barrel of laughs now is she? Not that anyone can blame her living with that piece of...”
Reggie glanced at his kids in the mirror.
“…work.”
Terri pulled a face, like she’d bitten into a piece of rotten fruit.
“He’s a piece of work alright,” she said. “I’m sure the feeling’s mutual and he hates living beside us. Who wants a family of silence huggers banging on the wall, telling you to keep it down? Although I’m pretty sure all the neighbours hate us come to think of it. Despite the polite smiles they put on.”
“We’re a curiosity to them,” Reggie said.
He heard a flurry of movement. A moment later, Ellie’s blonde head was poking through the gap in between the front seats. She looked back and forth between her mum and dad.
“That term, silence huggers, it makes no sense,” she said. “It’s never made any sense. How does anybody hug silence? Why do they keep insulting us with something that’s totally impossible and illogical?”
“Because their brains are mush,” Terri said. “Don’t analyse it too much honey or you’ll end up just like them.”
Reggie merged left onto the slip road and the SUV sped onto the M2 motorway north. He breathed a sigh of relief. They were that little bit closer to heaven but there was still a long way to go before they were out of the woods. Like everywhere else the M2 was polluted with speakers and the Schedule picked up where it had left off in suburbia. The motorway speakers were of course, bigger and more powerful than those found in the suburbs. Here on the M2, overlooking the hard shoulder, a neverending black stack of conjoined sound systems pumped out the Schedule from morning till night. The sound of all those cars on the motorway, no small thing, was easily smothered by the Schedule.
Despite the fact that every single car on the M2 had stereos inside, people still liked to lower their windows and listen to the speakers outside. It was sold by marketing as a ‘communal experience’ and to Reggie’s disgust, the public ate it up.
The Wards kept their windows rolled up. Despite this, the Schedule seeped through the car’s armour. Every few minutes the shows took a backseat and a conveyer belt of commercials spilled out thick and fast:
Do you have a friend who suffers from depression? You do? Well it’s important you know the facts about depression so you can pull your friend out of that deadly, life-threatening rut. The studies are clear. The science of silence demonstrates one irrefutable fact time and time again over hundreds of test cases. Silence kills. Yes dear friends, there’s a terrible darkness in silence and that darkness drives more people to commit suicide in this country than anything else. How? Silence exposes past traumas. There is no filter in nature. Silence reminds us constantly of all the things we want to forget. Too much exposure leads to depression and inevitably, suicide.
The good news? We’ve got silence beat. Here at King X-Audio Solutions we tune into the magic of life and block silence like no other brands on the market. We tune into the magic of music, of laughter, stories and light. It’s all out there waiting to be discovered by you – YES YOU. And how best to absorb all this glorious entertainment on offer? How do you beat off the silence sickness? With a brand new pair of X-15 Headphones…
“You hear that Mum?” Fern said, tapping a finger off the window. “Apparently we’re going to die up there in the quiet lands.”
“Boils my blood honey,” Terri said. “Funny, they always forget to mention that these so-called scientific studies are funded by the noise industries. Bunch of bullshit.”
Reggie smiled at his wife. “I thought we were keeping it classy.”
“Confirmation bias,” Ellie said, leaning forward again. “People eat up the reports by the fake studies because they’re looking for good news about their bad habits. Marjory Baker used to talk about this all the time.”
“Jesus,” Fern groaned. “Don’t you ever switch off robot child?”
“What?” Ellie said, sitting back. “What does that mean?”
“You should hear yourself,” Fern said, sounding disgusted. “Confirmation bias, blah-blah-blah. Hey everybody, want me to explain what that means because I’m Ellie Ward and you’re all stoooopid.”
Ellie lashed, hitting Fern on the arm with an elbow. Fern struck back with a solid punch to her sister’s thigh.
“Stupid,” Fern said. “Why don’t you take a break once in a while? Maybe you’ll actually get a boyfriend.”
“A boyfriend?” Ellie said. She raised her voice so everyone in the car could tune into the conversation whether they wanted to or not. For a moment even the Schedule couldn’t compete with Ellie Ward.
“You mean like Jason Minter? That’s your boyfriend isn’t it Fern? Jason Minter – the boy who was in trouble with the police last year for shoplifting. And whatever happened to Danny Keaton by the way? He didn’t last long. Too tame for you? Not a big enough criminal record? My goodness, it’s a new man every week isn’t it Fern?”
“You little bitch!” Fern yelled. “At least I can get a boyfriend. No boy in his right mind would look at a creepy, bug-eyed little…”
Reggie thumped the steering wheel. Hard.
“Enough! Are you two going to behave like this for the entire trip? Because I think I’d rather listen to the Schedule.”
No answer.
Terri turned around to face the girls.
“This trip’s important,” she said. “For all of us. You understand that don’t you?”
Ellie nodded.
“Yes,” Fern said.
Terri shifted back to the front. “Just cut it out girls.”
On the M2, the Schedule spat out another commercial. The narrator spoke so fast the words were barely comprehensible.
In a world of pure stimulation sometimes the occasional headache will slip through the net. A headache can ruin your day. So what do you do? Bask in silence? Ha-ha, of course not. Don’t worry – we’ve got you covered. You take Psuricon 500, a proven ibuprofen medication that’s a hell of a lot stronger than plain old regular ibuprofen. With Psuricon 500 you’ll never have to worry about those pesky headaches again. That means you can get back to watching and listening to your favourite shows all day every day. ALL DAY EVERY DAY. Just pop one Psuricon 500 in the morning and one at dinnertime to keep the headaches at bay.
Stay away from silence. Take Psuricon 500!
For the most part the journey north was a smooth one. And even if they couldn’t escape the Schedule, the Wards could still enjoy the scenery as gradually the endless tower blocks and housing schemes gave way to shimmering lakes and rolling green hills in the distance.
Terri and Reggie took it in turns to drive. They passed through a series of small towns and villages with only a few speaker stacks scattered on the main street and in public locations, which included the local pubs. As they drove through one town, Reggie saw a group of elderly women gathered in the park, walking their dogs and listening to the Schedule’s Sports Hour. Both humans and canines strolled with a look of quiet contentment on their faces.
Even these small villages began to disappear. The road curved further north and then dipped east, bringing th
e SUV towards the coast.
From Cromness it was ten-minute drive to the little village of Toomarore, the last hint of civilisation before the Wards reached the farmhouse. There was no Schedule here. Past Toomarore, it was a five-mile drive west over narrow, winding roads carved into the brooding, rugged terrain.
The newfound silence was so unfamiliar that even to those who celebrated it, such as the Wards, its power was unnerving.
“We made it,” Terri said. She took a right and drove up the dirt track driveway that led to the old farmhouse. The house, according to Terri, was perched two hundred feet above sea level. It sat atop a small hill with a regal, isolated superiority. The building was surrounded by grassland bordered with thick fuchsia bushes.
Terri brought the car to a stop about ten feet from the door and turned off the engine.
“Good job team,” she said, drumming the wheel with her fingers.
Outside the wind moaned. It sounded almost human.
“Let’s go inside,” she said, looking at Reggie and the girls. “We can make plans in the morning when everyone’s feeling a bit fresher, okay? Let’s leave all the talking and thinking till then.”
“Good plan,” Reggie said.
Reggie’s legs cracked as he got out the car and walked to the boot. He opened it up and gathered the four backpacks together. Terri grabbed the food items, which were packed in reusable shopping bags.
The girls climbed out the car and seeing that their dad was taking care of the bag situation, walked towards the house.
Reggie dropped the bags on the driveway. He turned around and saw the dull outline of endless precipitous slopes on the horizon.
“My God,” he said.
“We’re not in Kansas anymore,” Terri said, leaning up against her husband.
“And thank Christ for that.”
Terri smiled. “You know when I first inherited this house from Mum and Dad, I didn’t think much of it. It was a relic from my childhood, trapped in the middle of nowhere. Hard to believe I once felt that way about this place.”
“You promised you wouldn’t sell it,” Reggie said.
“Yep. And I promised Dad I’d make good use of it too.”
Reggie wrapped his arm around her.
“You kept your word,” he said. “On both counts. Your old man would be proud of you Terri, just like I am.”
“Thanks,” she said.
Reggie and Terri stared into the fading light as darkness enveloped the quiet lands. Everything else, including the sound of the two girls bickering in the distance, melted into silence.
Chapter 2
“It’s like the North Pole in here,” Fern said as the family piled into the house. “Can we put the heating on?”
Reggie dropped the bags on the floor and his hand fumbled along the wall, searching for the light switch. It was pitch black inside the old farmhouse and the wall felt like a giant block of ice.
“Hit the lights Dad,” Ellie said. “C’mon, quick.”
Reggie found the switch at last. There was a sharp click and the hallway lit up under a pale yellow light.
Terri took the food bags down the hall. She turned the light on in the kitchen and the house began to look a little less ominous.
“Heat!” Fern said, blowing into her hands and rubbing them together. “Can we put the heating on?”
Ellie rolled her eyes in disgust. “What’s the point of that genius?” she said. “We’re going to bed anyway aren’t we?”
“What’s the point of your face?” Fern snapped. “Imagine how cold it’s going to feel in the morning when you poke your hairy little matchstick legs out from under the sheets.”
“Wimp,” Ellie said, shaking her head.
Fern gave her sister the finger. “Robot.”
“Relax girls,” Terri called out, standing at the kitchen doorway with a disapproving look on her face. “It’s an old house. It creaks and yes it’s cold, but we’ve got modern heating. Remember? I’ll set the timer. We’ll heat the place up for a couple of hours tonight and then it’ll come back on at five in the morning. Leave it to mother to fix.”
Reggie looked at the pile of bags leaning against the wall.
“Guess I’ll take these upstairs then.”
Terri nodded. She was rummaging around in one of the reusable shopping bags she’d set down on the kitchen counter.
“Anyone want a quick bite before bed?”
The response was sluggish.
“It’s hot,” Terri said, stacking up a pair of Tupperware boxes under her arm. “I’m making some for myself anyway. I’m starving.”
“Alright,” Fern said. Her breath shot out like a fine mist and scattered across the hall. “Just a little for me.”
“I’m not that hungry,” Ellie said.
Fern nodded. “Ellie doesn’t need food Mum. Maybe we should plug her into the wall instead?”
“That’s not funny,” Ellie said.
Terri stood at the doorway. “Ellie. Food. Yes or no?”
Ellie shrugged. “Yes. Whatever.”
Terri signalled to her husband. “Reggie. You want some too?”
“Sure,” Reggie said. “I’ll take the bags up. Be back in a minute.”
“No problem,” Terri said, disappearing into the kitchen.
Reggie went upstairs and dropped the bags in the appropriate bedrooms. Before going back downstairs, he paused for a second in the master bedroom, soaking up the atmosphere. He inhaled the intoxicating scent of old wood. Felt the solitude. Listened to the silence.
The bell-like ping of the microwave snapped him out of the dream. With a sigh, Reggie set off towards the stairs.
The Wards ate a quick meal of veggie paella, mostly in silence. They had little left to talk about after spending the full day in each other’s company in the car. Reggie could barely taste the food but it was warm and that was good enough. The house was still bitterly cold, even with the steady hum of warm air blowing out of the metal vents on the floor. Big old houses took a long time to warm up and in the meantime, Fern and Ellie had blankets wrapped over their shoulders as they sat around the kitchen table.
After the meal the two girls were excused. They rushed up to their rooms and closed the doors.
Reggie and Terri put the dirty bowls in the dishwasher and then trudged wearily upstairs. The old staircase creaked under their weight. It felt like the house was saying welcome back.
They lay in bed that night, holding hands and enjoying the silence. Back in the city the Schedule would drone on until nine o’clock in urban areas and for those who partook in ‘communal listening’ that was the hour they retreated back to their private distractions.
Reggie listened to Terri snoring softly beside him. There was no noise from either of the girls’ bedrooms.
He drifted off to sleep, happy and content.
The next morning Reggie was up before anyone else. He left Terri in bed, got dressed and went quietly downstairs. For a while he sat at the kitchen table, sipping hot tea and listening to the birds singing in the garden. The old house was by now toasty and best of all – the monotonous whirr of the Schedule was absent.
Eventually Reggie heard a loud creaking noise. Someone was walking downstairs. A moment later, Terri popped her head through the kitchen doorway. Her hair was still damp from the shower.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Morning.”
“Fancy a walk before the kids are up?”
“A walk?” Reggie said. “Why not? Sounds good.”
Terri was dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a sandy-coloured fleece top. Looking at her now, Reggie saw the same pale-skinned country girl that he’d fallen in love with almost thirty years ago. The same girl he’d marched alongside so many times at college.
Terri was holding onto a crystal ornament that she’d brought down from the bedroom upstairs. It was pressed tight against her chest.
“Where are you going with that thing?” Reggie asked.
> Reggie knew the ornament only too well. Previously it had stood on the chest of drawers in the master bedroom. He couldn’t stand it. It was a hideous piece of New Age crap, good for nothing except burning or binning.
“Or should I say,” he continued, “where are you going with that ugly thing? I hope you’re taking it out to the bin or at least hiding it in the cupboard under the stairs.”
“It might be ugly,” Terri called out as she walked towards the living room, “but it was Mum’s and it’s one of the few things I’ve got left that remind me of her.”
Reggie raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. So what’s going on?”
“I’m just relocating it,” Terri said. “I know how much you love it being in the bedroom so I’m going to try putting it down here on the coffee table okay? At the very least it’ll stop you bitching about having to look at it before going to sleep.”
Terri returned to the kitchen. “Now about that walk?” she said. “You ready?”
Reggie pointed to the ceiling.
“Maybe we should let Pinky and Perky know we’re going.”
Terri pulled a sad face. “Do we have to?”
“Kind of,” Reggie said. “I’ll even ask if they want to come with us. Just to be polite. We both know there’s a snowball’s chance in hell either one of them will say yes.”
“Okay,” Terri said. “You do that and I’ll get my boots on. Meet you at the door?”
Reggie tossed his empty cup in the sink. “Give me five minutes.”
He climbed up the mahogany steps towards the girls’ rooms.
Reggie knocked on Ellie’s door first. “Ellie? You in there?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I come in sweetheart?”
A pause.
“Uhh, yeah. Okay.”
Reggie walked hesitantly into Ellie’s room and wasn’t surprised to see her sitting on the bed, a book resting on her lap. The curtains were open and the room bathed in the incandescent arms of morning.
“You alright kiddo?” Reggie said. “Sleep well?”
“Yep. Fine thanks.”
Ellie had her reading glasses on. The book in her lap was a thick-spined biography of Marjory Baker, a prominent anti-noise industry figure who’d been active several decades ago until her assassination. As far as Reggie was concerned, Baker was a prophet who’d predicted the disaster that other people referred to as modernity. Reggie had introduced Ellie to Baker’s work from a young age and ever since then Ellie had found her calling – she was going to be the next Marjory Baker.
The Dystopiaville Omnibus: A Dystopian Sci-Fi Horror Collection Page 2
