Children of the Silent Season (Heartbeat of the World Book 1)

by T. Wyse

  The girl chuckled, a personal joke apparently crossing her mind and pushing the words further. "Every year we have someone who thinks they can beat it, someone who thinks they'll impress The Professor and crack the mystery." Melissan grinned. “Usually it fizzles out pretty quick, often we’ll just have someone who thinks they can just deal with the sound. That never works, trust me there.” She shivered again.

  "Two years ago, when I was still in the introductory class, one of the seniors got the brilliant idea to use a robot. He rigged up this thing, it was like a robo-chainsaw." Melissan started trembling with suppressed laughter. "Only instead of diamonds, or metal, both which had been tried in the past...guess what he uses as teeth."

  "I don't know." Amelie said, thinking quickly. "The sharp white fragments?" The process for securing enough of the shards to make a chainsaw was one Amelie couldn't wrap her head around.

  "Lord knows how he got so many, but it was this rig, the chainsaw part was about half as long as this broom...so he set it up, and everyone in the school's watching, except the teachers." Her voice sputtered with laughter. “Only one there is Professor Barret, the other teachers knew better than to be anywhere near the thing and he was only there out of curiosity.”

  "They didn't stop him?" Amelie was rather incredulous.

  "Nah, we're all about freedom of invention, rewarding initiative, all that sort of stuff." Melissan continued giving a dismissive shrug. "So he gets this crazy thing, and he sets it to go, telling everyone to get well back, and cover their ears, right?"

  There was a dramatic pause, Amelie leaned in on her broom.

  "The thing hits the wall, and it damn well works." Melissan scrunched her face up remembering a personal absurdity. "Only that sound, that sound is there, and it's a thousand times worse. It's like some horrible rock concert consisting of chalkboards and crashing metal, only worse. Everyone is on their knees, screaming, covering their ears, but it doesn’t help. The thing is, in his utter brilliance, he made sure it couldn't be turned off! So the thing keeps going and going, and the noise keeps getting worse and worse!"

  Amelie pictured the absurd sight, still unable to fully appreciate the horrible sound.

  "Finally, thank God, the rig just fell apart, the thing practically crumbled then and there. He wasn't very popular with the students after that." Melissan rubbed her eyes, still laughing. "Or the faculty. See the sound, it broke every window in the school. Not the ones in this building, not the weird ones here of course, but every single window, every single piece of glass within about a half mile radius was shattered into dust, just from this sound."

  "That sounds terrible!" Amelie grinned.

  "I was the only one who would talk to him for a month." Melissan grinned widely. "Well, other than The Professor, he thought it was a 'good try'." Melissan's voice broke on the absurdity of it being a 'good try'.

  "Only one who would talk to him." Amelie restated it. "Was he...your boyfriend or something?" She asked, not entirely sure what the significance was.

  "No." Melissan's gaze was suddenly blank, suddenly distant. "He was my brother."

  Amelie had done her best to be silent after that, trying to let the older girl keep her facade of denial. Apparently satisfied at the level of clean the cafeteria had attained, Melissan had ordered them out into the hallway, to begin the second part of their cleaning duty. They were to clean the path from the doors of the cafeteria to the landing of the entryway of the school.

  The process was a grueling one, the dirt having been well caked onto the floor. There was much less ground to cover, but it went with a frustratingly slow pace. They worked more or less in silence, reaching into the commons room, whereupon the little girl branched off, moving to clean the windows.

  "We've been deserted." Amelie jokingly broke the silence.

  "She loves those windows." Melissan replied. "That's why people think the crows are her fault." She added with a whisper.

  “Hey! Hey!” Melissan chased after her, the broom clattering on the floor. “Not so high today! Don’t make me get that harness again!”

  Amelie looked towards the agile figure of the little girl, scaling the windows without the protective ropes from before. She seemed to stop her ascent, gazing down at Melissan a moment, then returning lower on the wall.

  “Fine, no higher today though.” Melissan’s voice gave a distant warning before returning warily towards Amelie.

  There were crows perched upon the square mosaics, looking completely interested in the little girl. It was odd, like they were attracted to the movements close to the glass. To anyone without experience with the crows, it would seem simply that, that they were fascinated by the humans beyond this infuriating barrier. Amelie knew better.

  They still lingered near the small girl, but their pinprick red gazes had moved to Amelie.

  She tried to dismiss their presence, and she moved to brave the stomped-in dirt towards the twin staircases at the entrance. “Need. You,” a hoarse whisper clawed at her. It repeated in her mind, drilling against the back of her skull so that she was tearing the dirt from the ground in fury, her knees beginning to blister and her hands cut by their own nails.

  “Need. You,” it echoed as she reached the landing. She furiously wiped the blood from her knees, and stole a glance backward to ensure it hadn’t smeared lines as she moved.

  She allowed herself to gaze outside. The hypnosis of the light, the titillation of the wind that must be blowing just beyond that glass—it whispered to her in a subtler voice, one of a craving suppressed. The sets of doors were framed by mosaic windows, and she could see the far off movement of people in amongst the greenery.

  "Looks beautiful." Amelie said, seeing Melissan's gaze on her.

  "In contrast, maybe." Melissan's tone was skeptical. "We're done now, I'm going to go pry E down off of the wall, then I guess we’ll stay there ‘till mealtime.”

  "You really like that room, don't you?" Amelie smiled.

  "Nah, not much lately, but she sure seems to." Melissan turned, just as a crow shuffled its wings across the window.

  The thing let out an unearthly, reverberating caww, making Amelie wince. She scowled at it and took her bucket up.

  "I didn't see that," Melissan assured.

  "Nothing to see," Amelie agreed. Still, she could feel the thing's gaze, sense its burning red eyes on the back of her neck. No stated denial could unmake their presence or their persistence.

  Amelie scrubbed the vegetables, now fairly comfortable with the operation.

  "So, how was your first day on crew?" Lyssa asked. Her breathing had returned to normal, the earlier stress no longer clenching her lungs.

  "It was okay." Amelie looked down guilty, not sure what exactly to say.

  "Well, did you like the museum?" The woman pushed further, looking over her shoulder half of her attention still on the four pots in front of her.

  "It was...strange." Amelie couldn't think of a better way to put it. Thinking better of her statement, she added, "bunch of strange old artifacts, funny little things." She tried to smile reassuringly, tried to pretend there was nothing amiss in her mind.

  "Which museum?" Craig cut in. "I love those weird old things, couldn't wait to start the third year classes on them."

  "Oh, the south one." Amelie replied.

  "Bah, south is the boring one." Craig stated boastfully. "North has the larger things, they're much more interesting!"

  "Not terribly interesting." Wendy cut in, receiving an empty tray to replace her full stack, "all that silly stuff bores me.” A jokingly over shocked face from Craig prompted her to add: “I wouldn't let Professor Barret hear me say that though."

  Lyssa looked over her shoulder, giving a half smile, before furtively returning her gaze frontwards.

  "Boring!?" Craig said incredulous. "How is any of it boring?"

  "Unless you’ve got an idea of what made them go, something even The Professor doesn’t know, then it’s all silly and useless!" Wendy stood
her ground, rolling her eyes.

  "Most of it, maybe, but that's true for most gadgetry," he defended. "You can't say unplaceably old technology, is uh..." He trailed off, suddenly seeing Amelie there.

  "What?" Amelie asked, waiting a moment in silence. She passed her tray upwards, the room silent except for the boiling.

  "Nothing." Craig said finally.

  "We’re going into too much detail around you," Wendy informed, raising her arms jokingly to accentuate the gravity of their infraction. "The school is big on secrets. Enrollment is pretty much closed except to those who know how to ask, and who to ask. It was started as a place for philosophers and such, a new take on learning, and reality as a whole. That was the idea, at least. It became a place for the rich and powerful, almost a status symbol to have your children here." Wendy sighed. “Privs and all that.”

  "Oh come on, do you really think we need to keep our fantastic secrets still?" Wendy asked, defending herself against the ugly look Craig had shot her.

  "No, but it still feels wrong." He answered, brooding over his platter. "I can't speak for you, but I was...I am excited to be here. I can't wait until I get a chance to look at those things close up." He declared with pride.

  “Oh, and you haven’t seen them close up already?” Lyssa blew a viciously cool and pointed breath. “We keep track of our little sneaks after all.”

  "Well, I guess I might’ve taken a little look," he mumbled, looking more dejected than before.

  "Oh, don't worry about it." The woman chuckled. "If anything you remind me of him at your age. Place was different back then, but still he used to say the same things." She smiled, adding “And ‘sneaking around’ is something of an honored custom around here.”

  This seemed to appease Craig somewhat, and he continued the work with a slight uplift in his posture.

  They finished the cleaning, and all sat back upon the sink, taking in the increasingly appetizing smell of the kitchen as Lyssa set to seasoning and mixing the stew for the dinner.

  "Oh!" Craig said, remembering something. "Tomorrow!" He declared, looking at Amelie.

  "Oh, that's right, keep forgetting." Wendy added her voice.

  "Tomorrow, what?" Amelie asked, confused.

  "Tomorrow, the corn's supposed to be close enough to harvest." He declared with pride. "The wheat's still a good chunk off though. Plus the corn's not going to be real cob corn or anything, just little baby corns, to spice up the stew a bit." He smiled.

  "It still seems like a waste to me." Wendy said, sadly.

  "Not a waste at all." Lyssa cut in. "Believe me, you'll all appreciate the novelty of it after the same thing every day like this." Her voice was hopeful, her actions energetic.

  "Oh, I'll appreciate it, I just worry about it all..." Wendy trailed off.

  "Your food is wonderful, Mrs. Roberts!" Wendy quickly added the protest, realizing what had been said. "It's delicious enough to have every day." She insisted.

  Lyssa offered a dismissive wave. "Delicious enough when you're hungry."

  Amelie wondered if Wendy's fears weren't warranted. How long would the crops last, before they withered? Would the growing season end, would the region see a cold winter? She would have to ask Kokopelli, surely he would know and be willing to explain. She had paid the price to know the form of the season after all.

  "Alright, out of here you three." The woman declared finally, prompting Craig to make the hidden gesture and summon the servers marching in.

  They left the kitchen and took the shorter route to the table where the two lonely lights sat amidst a sparse field of blue wisps.

  Craig and Wendy made good on their newfound courage, and sat down once again with Amelie. Their nervousness still shone through in their restrained breathing, but their postures hid it well enough.

  Amelie sat there in silence and allowed the idle chatter of the three of them to wash over her like a cool breeze. They reminisced about the school before, parts of it, their favored activities. Amelie was happy to see Melissan have familiar people to talk to, sensing a distinct change in her demeanor and tone, her lungs trembling with a touching nervousness that mirrored the others.

  The cafeteria filled up, the din slowly rising, and at last their food came to them. All five of them ate, the three of them taking turns speaking.

  "...So in the end Sari and I, we ended up going around the entire campus twice, looking for him, and of course he’d already gone home for the break." Wendy finished a silly story.

  "What was it like, before?" Amelie asked, wanting to say something. "Like specifically?" She added. They'd each spoken with knowledge of the school, leaving her feeling somewhat left out.

  "Oh, it was fancy stuff, very modern too." Craig declared. “This building is the only one that was from the 1800’s.”

  "In the old days it was kind of a square campus, surrounded by forest." Wendy said, probing her mind. "There were four school buildings, two residentials besides this one, there was the standard Academy building, then there was the gym building."

  "There was a garden area in the centre of the square, inside the enclave of buildings, it was an outer ring of forest, then a ring of buildings, then a huge garden in the middle." Melissan said, remembering. "We have old pictures, but they're in the library." She seemed troubled, then resolute. "I'll show them to you tomorrow, we'll go in the morning, just before you get off for lunch."

  "Won't Eilis be there?" Amelie asked, worried about some kind of confrontation.

  "Of course, it's not like she'll bite or anything though." Melissan said dismissively. "She'll be glad to have something to do, trust me." The older girl smiled reassuringly.

  "What?" Melissan asked Craig and Wendy, who had stunned expressions.

  "Nothing." Wendy replied, snapping out of her stupor.

  "Nothing." Craig parroted.

  A scream sliced through the murmuring rumble of the darkened garden. The room silenced as the blue wisps took flight and tried furiously to pin the source of the interruption. A second scream echoed, clearly emitting from the hallway door.

  This prompted a rather unceremonious pouring out of people into the hallway. As more filtered out, the sound of furious, panicked chatter pierced into the progressively dimmer room.

  Amelie stood up, the first to leave the table, intent on seeing what the excitement was. She snatched her lantern, and made her way through the darkness with a quickened pace. Was it the crows again, or more likely something different, something new?

  The chattering broke into a chorus of disjointed screams, all together in time. Amelie managed to reach the white door, standing with the darkness of the cafeteria at her back. The hallway was crowded, jammed with students, but she managed to push through. Another chorus of screams, and most of the heads flinched, bracing their heads with their arms.

  All heads turned to the commons room, not the entrance. A crowd of what must’ve been more than half of the current populace of the school stood jammed shoulder to shoulder, all faces staring directly up. Their bodies wove together in a panicked mat, strung so tightly that she found herself clasped and staring at the back of someone’s jacket.

  Another chorus of screams rose, and Amelie was shoved by a stream of bodies finally choosing to flee the scene. She stole balance from an arm, but still couldn’t make out what they were staring at from her divot in the canopy of brown uniforms.

  "What's going on!" Lyssa screamed angrily, appearing behind Amelie. The woman plowed through the crowd, and Amelie gladly slipped into her wake.

  "It's the end! It's happening again!" a girl with maddened eyes shouted at the woman as she neared. The girl wobbled on her feet, her shoulders trembling and her heart quaking against her breath.

  "What are you talking about?' Lyssa grabbed the girl by the shoulders, steadying her. “Calm, down. You’re safe here.” She raised a hand in front of the girl’s eyes and then turned to the crowd. “You’re safe. Calm down. All of you.”

  There was a space between th
e clot of bodies and the coloured mosaic glass, enough for Amelie to slip into and glance frantically into the night. She forced her eyes into the darkness outside, and up the contour of the curved ceiling above.

  There was no sound of crows, a realization that chilled her. Not a single beady red eye affixed upon her. Something was out there, something surely worse.

  “You are all safe h—” Lyssa shouted after a great winding up breath, but was cut off by the repetition of the spectacle. The chorus of screams rose once again. The girl who Lyssa had calmed let out a panicked, frantic sound and her heart and lungs became a flurried duet. Lyssa looked up, her lungs caught in the spectacle, and Amelie too held her breath in awe.

  A bolt of shimmering yellow cut through the black sky above, a trailing white tail following the scarring trail. The bolt cooled into blackness, but even as it faded the sky began to crackle with blinding yellow. Vivid specks of white and red rippled outwards from where the scar had crossed the sky. No sound accompanied this spectacle, like a celestial artist tossing a pail of paint into the ceiling of night.

  She looked back, and spotted her friends. Craig and Wendy both stood agape, looking up. Melissan simply held E close, the little girl watching with a dull indifference. No...not complete indifference, Amelie realized. The little girl had the faintest hint of a smile, a twinkling of fascination.

  Another bolt broke the sky, Lyssa let go of the child, who wobbled to the floor. As the front of those collected fell to their knees, those behind them were dragged along too, some falling in reverence and others simply falling.

  Amelie stared up. Those patterns tickled her memory somehow. The screams became silent to her ears as she tried to force the memory, to trace the source. Even as the time-paused children cowered on the floor she paced the glass wall, running her hand against the cool, smooth glass. The bolts came faster now, in pairs, in trios, the ripples ever more radiant, the crackling yellow becoming a silent storm.

  If only she were out there, out there in the skies. If only she could fly to the source and see it herself…