by Grayson Crew
“So sorry, I just got kind of lost playing.”
“Piano player?”
“Sort of.”
“You any good?”
“Nope.”
“Show me,” he says.
“It’s not like how you play. I’d rather not.”
“Don’t worry so much. Just show me what you can do. Then, have some dinner.”
I play him what I know, but with a lot of mistakes. Maybe I hear them more than he does. When I finally feel like I’ve settled into a good pattern, I hear something else.
Cliff is plucking notes with his guitar. The same notes as me, but in a faster rhythm. I slow down, he speeds up. I play harder, he plucks softer.
The emptiness in me is lifting, maybe not completely, but it’s lighter.
We sit at one of the stone tables when we’re done and I eat the curry Moira made. Cliff pulls a flask out of his jacket and hands it to me. It smells like the clinic back in the Facility, only this is a bit sweeter.
“You drink?” Cliff asks.
“I guess so."
He hands me the flask and I take a swig. The amber liquor is hot and thick. At first it hurts as it burns its way down my throat, but when it reaches my stomach, the burning stops and my whole body warms.
Cliff is laughing, “First time having liquor?"
I cough. “Yeah.”
“Should’ve told me, I’d have warned you.” He takes the flask back and drinks some himself. Loosening his tie he puts his feet up. After another shot I do the same.
Whatever is usually there, keeping me from talking, disappears. We talk. Not about anything big: just music, fishing, the family. It’s nice. Safe.
A Whisper in the Woods
Another month passes as does another injection. I’m with Moira, far from the estate, gathering roots from the forest floor. Mud is caked under my nails from digging. The fresh smell of rain rises from the dirt. Wind rustles by like a whisper.
Moira freezes in place, her hand still wrapped around the base of a plant. “Did you hear that?”
“I heard the wind,”
She goes back to gathering roots until it’s time to move to a new spot. While walking, the wind almost completely stops, but the sound doesn’t.
“There it is again,” Moira says, “Do you hear it?”
“I hear something.”
A few feet away, something like a hologram flashes in front of us. Flickering in and out, the shadowy figure of a man is hunched over.
“We need to go, West.”
“What is that?”
“I don’t know, but we need to go now!”
We grab what we can carry and hurry toward the Estate. The sound of the wind gets just slightly louder, only now, it’s starting to sound like a voice. There are no words, just undecipherable whispers.
“Don’t listen to them, West! Just keep moving.”
When we reach the clearing and I see the white flowers lacing the surface of the lake, the whispers go silent.
“What was that?” I ask between short breaths as we reach the gate.
“Whispers.”
“I thought we were in a safe area.”
“We were. I need to find Cliff. Can you take these to the kitchen please. Violin will know what to do with them. But please, don’t say anything to her yet. Let me do that.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” She heads to the back of the estate where Cliff chops up our firewood. I carry the bags to the kitchen and help Violin rinse and cut the roots, but not without thinking of the Whispers and wondering . . . what are they trying to say?
Everything is About to Change
The next morning I go fishing with Cliff.
“Moira talk to you about yesterday?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t like it. We’ll all be staying close to the Estate for now.”
“Do you think we should take another injection?”
“No. I already give the maximum dose. Any more and the effect would be cancelled.”
I can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s more worried than he’s letting on.
They’re Here
Weeks have passed without us having heard the Whispers, though we haven’t been going far outside the Estate. It’s the end of the day and we’re gathered in the tea room.
Kettle stands up and proudly announces that she has written her own song and is going to sing it. She takes a deep breath and readies the first note, but nothing comes out. She freezes.
Stillness reaches across the room. Cliff tells everyone to be quiet. Then I hear it: a Whisper spreading across the rugs and into our ears.
“Cover your ears!” shouts Moira. She rushes to Violin and wraps around her. Cliff swoops around Kettle. I cover mine, but it doesn’t stop the sound.
“Don’t listen, Jael,” I say.
She looks at me as if she doesn’t even notice.
“We’re going to the cellar,” says Cliff.
“But we haven’t gathered everything,” replies Moira.
“We’ve gathered enough. Jael, Violin, Kettle, follow Moira to the cellar. West, I need you to come with me.”
“Don’t be long or I’ll come looking for you,” Moira says.
“We’ll be right behind you,” he says and kisses her cheek. The girls leave with Moira. I follow Cliff.
The Long Night Begins
He hands me a flashlight and a utility knife.
“Save the flashlights for emergencies. Don’t turn it on unless you absolutely need to. We have batteries, but the supply is limited. Use the oil lamp otherwise.”
“What are we doing?”
“I need to get the serum.”
I hold the lamp as we go to the library where he keeps it. The serum is in a leather case supplied with a few syringes, some bottles of clear liquid, a jar of dry flowers and some sort of machine. He boxes it up, then, we’re on our way.
Back in the atrium, he pauses at the entrance and looks out the window. Moonlight pales over his face.
The faint sound of a Whisper seems to shudder through the glass.
“Time to go kid,”
The cellar entrance is in the same hall as Violin’s tower. We turn down one of the dark, damp halls to a dead end. The Whispers disappear.
Cliff feels along the floorboards until his fingers slip underneath a plank. Lifting it up, I can see a camouflaged trap door.
“You first,” he says. “I’ll guard the back.”
Lockdown
We go down a twisting stair into darkness. The first thing I smell is bleach. Bleach and mold.
“Moira and I have been scrubbing this place down for the past week. Still smells awful.”
“You should’ve told me. I would’ve helped.”
“No. We didn’t want to worry you or the girls.”
At the bottom I get a silhouetted glimpse of our new home. Metal bunks line one side of the space, while showers and toilets line the other. A makeshift wall of curtains and screens separates the space.
Everything is steel or concrete--everything except what Moira and Cliff have brought down: comforters, a few tables and chairs, cabinets filled with food, barrels of water.
“The tap works, but I wouldn’t drink from it,” Moira says, “Just use it for bathing. We have enough food, water and oil to comfortably last us a month or so. I’ve done what I can to make it homey.”
I see there are dried, white flowers from the lake covering the walls like curtains.
“We’ll keep the lamps going during the day,” Moira continues, “turn them out at night. That should give us some semblance of normalcy.”
“How long will we be down here?” asks Jael.
“I don’t know,” says Cliff, “Until I’m certain it’s safe I suppose.”
“Do we have a plan?” she asks.
“This is it. We hide. In a few days, I’ll look around upstairs, see if it’s
clear. Otherwise, we make a home down here and hope whatever’s up there moves on.”
Kettle wraps her arms around Cliff’s legs and pouts. “What about the Mister and the Misses?”
“Did you think I’d forget them?” He kneels down and kisses her forehead. “I think you should check under the bunks. They’ve been down here all day.”
She runs off and crawls under the mattresses. A shrill squeal is followed by the sound of paws pattering across the stone floor. Kettle comes chasing after.
Violin boils some tea over a makeshift stove top and pours some for each of us. When we finish, the girls are readied for bed.
When it comes time to sleep, the lamps go out and I climb under the covers. Even though I don’t sleep well, I sleep, thankful for Moira and Hatch.
A Crack in the Wall
The next day, while in the shower, I can see that the wall has a hole in it, just small enough to fit my hand into. Cliff lets me use some of the tools he brought down to patch it.
I can see seams where the bricks have been patched. Cliff says it might have been a separate entrance that was sealed up--Dovehaven is filled with abandoned compounds and mines. The task keeps me busy for the day.
Brothers for Life
At the passing of a few days, Cliff decides it’s time to check upstairs, see if it’s safe. He grabs a fishing knife and a lamp, tells me to lock the cellar door behind him and not to open it until he gives the signal:
Three knocks, a pause, two knocks, a pause. One knock.
When he lifts the door, I gulp in the clean air. He shuts it and the thick air drops back around me.
I turn the lock, hearing the echoes of his wingtips as he walks away. Then silence.
The Widow
An hour or so must have already passed. I hear someone coming up the stairs. Moira quietly comes around the corner.
“Any sign?” she asks.
“No, just been quiet.”
“I brought you some tea.”
“Thank you.”
“He shouldn’t have gone yet,” Moira says, “I should’ve gone with him.”
“You can’t leave the girls,” I say. “He’ll be back. It’s only been one hour.”
“If he doesn’t come back soon, I’m going out there to find him.” She goes back down the stairs and into the dark.
Knocking
I wait alone in the stillness, listening as another hour passes without a sound. Then, there’s a sudden thud on the door, like something heavy was tossed on it.
I jump back, slamming the back of my head into the wall. My pulse starts racing. Silence.
I wait for the signal. Nothing. Minutes pass. My breathing is fast and shallow.
I hear the sound of something being dragged above me. Then, footsteps.
Careful and slow, directly above me.
There’s a knock.
Sweat drips down my face. My hands are trembling.
More knocks. Slow, repetitive, louder with each hit.
The knocks have turned to poundings.
I scream out Cliff’s name.
The door is rattling violently on its hinges.
I race down the stairs. Moira is running up at the same time. We nearly knock each other down.
“Where’s Cliff?” She cries.
“That’s not Cliff!” I say back and force her to turn and run down with me. At the bottom, I hear Kettle crying, Violin is holding her hand.
Jael runs over to the tools and grabs a knife for her and Moira, then slides an axe to me. We stand in front of the entrance, weapons in hand, braced for something to come rushing down.
Kettle and Violin have backed farther into the corner of their bunk.
“Get under the bed!” Moira says to both of them.
They crawl under the mattress.
The pounding stops.
We wait for something to come down, but there’s nothing. No sound.
Moira drops her knife and collapses against the wall, wiping her eyes. “My god, where is he?”
I don’t have an answer.
The Crack in the Wall
“We can’t stay down here,” says Moira. “We’re trapped.”
“We don’t have anywhere to go,” Jael says.
I remember the shower. The crack in the wall.
“Get me the hammers,” I say.
Moira comes back with one. I hammer against the wall I repaired in the shower. The impact of stone on stone shakes the bones in my hand, but I keep pounding. Something breaks.
I keep at it until I have a hole big enough to shine a light through. Jael hands me her lamp and we peer inside.
“Found a way out,” I say.
I pound more block away. The dull clink of stone echoes around the shower. Then, there’s another sound from the stairwell. Pounding.
Moira rushes the girls over.
“It’s back at the door," she says, "We need to go through now.”
I pound away enough brick so that a person can slide through.
“Moira, you go through first, then the girls,” I say.
“I’m coming back for him,” she says. “I’ll get the girls safe, but I’m coming back.”
I nod, then she crawls through.
“The Mister and the Misses!” Kettle has tears streaming down her face.
“They’ll be safer in here baby. They can hide,” says Moira through the crack, “We’ll come back for them.”
Kettle clambers into the opening and crawls through, falling onto the floor on the other side. I hear her cough as a puff of dust rises around her.
Next goes Violin and Jael. I hand her our weapons and the flashlight, then slide through myself.
I hear the slam of metal against stone. Whatever’s out there must’ve broken through the door.
Run
“Not a word or sound,” Moira whispers. “West, you have the flashlight. Take the lead. I’m covering the back.” Her knuckles are white around the hilt of her knife.
“Okay,” I say.
The corridor is straight and cramped, concrete on all sides. Wires hang from the ceilings, covered in dust and spiders. I hear something drop on the floor from where we came.
It’s here.
We move faster, passing door after door on either side. Kettle’s crying louder now. Moira is trying to calm her, but it’s useless. Silence isn’t going to help us.
It knows where we are.
Not knowing what else to do I try to open the door nearest me. It’s stuck. I shake it violently but it won’t open.
I try the next, and the next. Finally one bursts open. We rush inside and I slam the door shut and bolt it.
Something slams against the door. It’s shaking, but the bolt holds. I press against the door and shine the light around the room so Jael can look for an exit.
There’s a ladder going up a shaft, but the rungs break as soon as she sets foot on them. There’s another exit nearby, but she can’t open it.
Moira goes to help her. The door behind me is shaking harder now and I’m afraid it will break open if I move.
Moira and Jael get the exit open. Everyone runs through. I sprint to the exit, hearing the door I just held bust off its hinges and slide across the floor.
We go through several more rooms, each the same as the next.
I bust a door open and we’re back in the hallway. Jael races ahead of me at full speed to a dead end with two massive, sliding doors, an elevator shaft.
If we can get in, there should be a service ladder.
The elevator doors won’t budge. Jael points to a trapdoor in the ceiling.
One by one we lift each other up through the trapdoor. Once through, I shine the flashlight around.
In front of us is an endless black shaft going as far down as it goes up.
