The Silence

by Tim Lebbon

  But inaction would be too tempting for too many people. Let’s wait to see what we’re told to do… the Prime Minister says not to flee or clog the roads… they’re saying it might end soon…

  Everything had changed too quickly for anyone to truly grasp what was really happening, or how to react.

  “We have to make our own luck,” Huw said. “You think that?”

  “I think I don’t want to leave my home.”

  “Neither do I. I really don’t. But I’m afraid that if we stay here too long, we might regret it when the time comes to leave. We might get caught up in the rush, instead of having a head start.”

  Kelly looked around their living room. Evidence of their life decorated it—photographs of their children, a painting they’d bought together in Newquay, a plant that they’d been given before Ally was born, books they had read and talked about. They had made love on the sofa and drunk wine watching TV and painted the walls together. The room was warm with them.

  “So where?” she said, voice barely a whisper.

  “Red Rock.”

  “Your parents’ old place? We sold it.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s huge, and the people who bought it were rich London types. Holiday home. I doubt they’ll be there, and even if they are…” He waved it away. It didn’t matter. Red Rock was in Scotland, a place called Galloway Forest Park. It was a location his parents had valued for its peace and remoteness.

  It was perfect.

  It was also almost four hundred miles away by road.

  Kelly was nodding slowly.

  “We’ll be fine,” Huw said. “A quick jaunt up there, and it’ll be over before we arrive.”

  “You said you never wanted to go there again.”

  “Yeah, well.” He remembered the place and everything that had happened there, and felt sick to his stomach. But such things no longer mattered. They felt petty. Family squabbles, that was all.

  “We’ll need food, supplies,” Kelly said, ever the organiser.

  “That’s it? You agree?”

  “I think so, yes,” she said. “I think we have to go.” She leaned across the chair arms and held his head, pulling him closer and kissing him. “We’ll be fine. We’ll look after them together.”

  Huw’s eyes burned. He nodded, stood, slammed the atlas closed.

  “I’ll go into town, get some stuff together.”

  “Mum’s cancer…” Kelly said, and she really started to cry then. Huw leaned over and held her, and she buried her face against his shoulder. Three deep sobs, and then she pulled back again.

  “No time for this,” she said, wiping her eyes.

  No time, Huw thought. When he pictured Red Rock’s intimidating facade, and thought of the distance they had to cover, he felt sick all over again.

  * * *

  They lived a ten-minute walk from the centre of town. Usk was really more of a large village than a town, though its main road was lined with shops and a couple of pubs, a hotel, several takeaways, a bank, and a square surrounded with more shops and pubs. There were several hundred houses surrounding these central areas, lining roads leading out from the village and with one large estate huddled against the hills to the south. It had a strong community spirit; it was a good place to live, to raise a family. It was safe.

  Today it felt strange. Huw took his car and went on his own, refusing Ally’s help, telling her she needed to stay at home and keep Jude occupied and calm. Jude was bright, and soon after watching the Prime Minister give his unsettled, jittery statement, Huw’s son had started misbehaving. He was growing scared and confused. Huw could relate to that.

  He and Kelly had yet to have an open discussion with their family about their intentions, but they all seemed to know a decision had been made.

  It was usually a two-minute drive to the main street, but for a Friday afternoon, it was incredibly busy. It took Huw several minutes to pull out of their small estate onto the main road, and then he was almost instantly in a line of traffic queuing to edge out onto Usk’s main street. The other drivers seemed edgy—cars inching forward when there was no movement ahead, horns blaring, a small shunt which caused a brief delay. Huw saw several people he knew driving away from town. He raised a hand in greeting. Some waved back, a couple of others did not. They seemed intent on the road.

  Should have walked, he thought. It felt so strange. Busy as Christmas except with very little good cheer.

  It was almost dark, and streetlights complemented the many vehicle headlights to cast dancing shadows along the road’s edges. When people walking into town began to overtake him, he pulled into the doctor’s surgery car park and left the car. He glanced back at the surgery several times as he walked away, expecting someone to open the doors and tell him he couldn’t park there, this was for patients only, he’d have to move on. But the building seemed deserted, and he chuckled at his concern.

  “Mad,” he muttered. “This is all fucking mad. I must have eaten something dodgy at dinner last night. Wake up, it’ll be a dream.” But he walked, did not wake up, crossed a side street, looked down it and saw some kids playing football and a guy carrying in shopping from his parked car. He turned to look at Huw. He knew the man enough to nod hello—saw him at the school gates sometimes, if he was ever home to take Jude or pick him up from school—and he nodded now. After a pause, the man returned the gesture. From this far away Huw could not make out his expression.

  He walked on. To his right the line of traffic continued. Engines revved, fingers tapped steering wheels. Most cars had only one person inside, but a couple contained whole families, boots packed to the ceiling and some with roof pods attached. One had an old couple in the front and their three beagles in the back. He knew some of the drivers, but he kept his head down and walked quickly, concentrating on his feet, trying not to step on the cracks in the pavement.

  “Huw!” He knew that voice immediately. It was Glenn, one of their closest friends. Huw paused and turned, and Glenn ran along the pavement to catch him up. He was what Kelly called a “proper bloke”—lived on his own, had a succession of girlfriends and fuck buddies, was fit and athletic, a rugby player, a karate black-belt. Good-looking. Charismatic, funny, kind. Huw joked that he loved to hate him.

  “Hi, mate,” Huw said.

  “What the fuck?” Glenn asked. He looked at the traffic, the darkening sky, and held out his hands as if expecting rain.

  “Yeah, what the fuck.”

  “I was just finishing off a job out at old woman Florrie’s place, needed to get home sharpish, got a hot dinner date with Maxine from The Swan tonight. And now… this? What, butcher Ben got a sale on or something?”

  Huw knew that he was joking, and could see that his friend was troubled. He owned a small but thriving plumbing firm, was gruff and sometimes crude, but he was also sensitive and intelligent, and a loyal mate. Had been for many years. Huw had always considered himself rich in friends, and right now he felt like hugging Glenn.

  “Seen the news?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  Huw started walking again, and Glenn walked with him.

  “Where you parked?”

  “Left the van back by the river.”

  “We’re going north.”

  “Huh?”

  Huw glanced across at his friend. “How much have you seen?”

  “What, about those things in Moldova?” He shrugged.

  Mind the crack, mind the crack, Huw thought, looking down at his feet. He hadn’t done this since he was a kid. Step on a crack, break your mother’s back. It was stupid, but he also knew it was a form of avoidance.

  “Thought you weren’t home till tomorrow?”

  “I saw people dying today, mate.”

  “Yeah. Rough.”

  “I mean in real life,” Huw said. “Accidents on the motorway. A coach, a petrol tanker. People checking their mobiles. It’s serious. I mean… it’s really serious. People are scared. Those accidents haven’t even appeared on t
he news. Everything’s in turmoil, and if those things keep moving at the same speed, they’ll hit the Channel tomorrow evening.”

  They walked in silence for a while. As they passed the vehicles Huw heard the rumbles of radios inside, words never quite clear but the tone of the presenters’ voices sombre, serious. He glanced to his right once or twice and saw drivers and passengers facing ahead, their expressions the same. Even the few kids he saw in the backs of cars were still and silent. It was spooky.

  “You serious?” Glenn asked. “You’re going?”

  Huw paused and grabbed his friend’s arm. They were standing outside the Plump Duck, a pub they’d been drinking in since they were teenaged friends. Glenn had punched Huw in the back bar when they were seventeen, a drunken fight over a lost game of pool. Huw had had his first blowjob in an empty upstairs function room late one Saturday night. All through their twenties and thirties the Plump had been a fixture, even though its owners had changed a dozen times in the past twenty-five years. It was a place rich in memories, and Huw couldn’t figure out why it now seemed so sad.

  Perhaps because he might be seeing it for the last time.

  “We’re going north,” he said again. “Scotland. My folks’ old place.”

  Glenn half-smiled as if it were a joke.

  “I mean it,” Huw said. “Come with us.”

  “You’re really serious,” Glenn said.

  “I’m getting food and supplies. Kelly’s getting the kids packed and ready. Lynne’s been staying with us, so she’s coming too. You’ve heard how these things hunt? They home in on sound?”

  “Yeah, Florrie was muttering on about that.”

  “So we’re going somewhere quiet.”

  Glenn looked around at the traffic queue crawling slowly into town. Then over Huw’s shoulder at the pub, perhaps sharing the same memories. “I just came in to get some steaks, spuds, few bottles of wine. Maxine’s hot after wine. And I need a shower.”

  “Glenn!” Huw said. “Really. Think about it, okay? Please?” He started walking, feeling vaguely ridiculous, then stopped again. “You still got those shotguns?”

  Glenn laughed. “What, you want to borrow them? Protect yourself against the mad masses?”

  “You could bring them with you,” Huw said. He went on ahead of Glenn, waiting for his friend to catch up. They walked the rest of the way in silence, and by the time they reached the main road, Huw was starting to think this might be a wasted journey.

  The street was rammed with traffic. A truck and a car had collided outside the post office, blocking the road in both directions. The drivers were arguing about whose fault it was.

  “I’ve got to go the grocer’s,” Glenn said. “Huw… walk back to the cars together? Meet you here in twenty minutes? Be good to talk it through.”

  “Yeah,” Huw said. “Got your phone, just in case?”

  Glenn nodded. He didn’t ask “Just in case what?” and Huw didn’t elaborate.

  Glenn headed along Usk’s main street, weaving through people on the pavements and dodging into the road now and then. Huw watched him go. The traffic’s this bad because of the accident, he thought, and there was something comforting in that. Not because of panic buying. Not because hundreds of people were having the same idea as him and Kelly.

  He passed between waiting lines of vehicles and crossed the road, turning the corner by the bank and entering the village square. It was bustling, and there was something strange about the movements of people, the atmosphere, that took him a while to perceive. Then he saw it, and really it shouldn’t have troubled him so much. Shouldn’t have been a surprise.

  Everyone was moving. There were lots of people in the square, but unlike on a normal late Friday afternoon when groups of people might mill around chatting, sit outside the little arts cafe drinking coffee under the patio heaters, stand by the small car park waiting for lifts or simply passing the time, none of these people stood still. Many walked on their own, a few moved in pairs or small groups. Heads down. Bags clasped in their hands.

  He and a teacher from Jude’s school exchanged glances. Huw smiled and half-raised a hand, but by then she had already turned away and skipped across the opposite pavement, disappearing behind the corner cafe and along the road beyond.

  One old woman sat outside the cafe, hands resting on the walking stick propped before her, a bemused expression on her face.

  Huw crossed the square and approached the butcher’s shop that stood two doors along from the cafe. He caught the old woman’s eye—he’d never known her name, but saw her sometimes tending the flowers in the local churchyard—and smiled. She smiled back and raised one clawed hand in greeting. He was afraid that she was going to wave him over, but she only watched as he neared the butcher’s.

  It was closed. He didn’t waste time wondering why, diverting instead back across the square to the grocer’s on the opposite corner. It was an old shop, owned by the same family for over forty years, and Huw used to buy sweets from the current owner’s father. Matt stood in the doorway now, arms crossed and a slightly dazed look on his face.

  “Huw,” he said, nodding.

  “Afternoon, Matt.” The older man did not step aside to allow Huw access. “So… you open?”

  “Not any more,” Matt said. “Not unless you want washing powder, greeting cards, toilet rolls, that sort of stuff. Food’s gone. Even the pet food’s gone.”

  Huw raised an eyebrow.

  “Sold out!” Matt said, standing aside at last. “Best day’s business I can remember. I’m closing up early, off to the Plump for a swift one before Margaret realises. You be there this evening?”

  “What?” Huw asked. He looked inside at the bare shelves. The shop was almost unrecognisable.

  “Pub,” Matt said.

  “No. No, I won’t be there tonight. Thanks, Matt.” He turned to leave.

  “Don’t bother with Jim’s place down the road, either. Last I heard they were as empty as me.”

  “Right,” Huw said. This is mad, he thought. Insane. Crazy. But of course, it was not. This was Britain. If the Met Office forecast three inches of snow, people stormed the shops to buy up all the bread and milk they could lay their hands on. Over Christmas when shops were shut for a day—sometimes even two—the bulk-buying madness beforehand was laughable.

  He shouldn’t have been surprised. He and Kelly couldn’t have been the only ones who had decided to take positive action.

  Huw walked back across the square and passed the old woman outside the coffee shop.

  “Busy today,” she said. “Nobody’s got time to sit and chat with me. Have you got time?”

  Huw looked into the cafe and saw a young girl behind the counter, leaning back against the worktop and using her phone. She had headphones in. She frowned, pouted.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to the old woman.

  He had to get home. They’d pack what they needed, leave, and pick up some food on the way. He felt bad turning his back on the woman. He called Kelly as he went, pleased to hear her voice, and told her what was happening in the town.

  “It’s still spreading,” she said. It was all he needed to hear.

  “Pack whatever you can,” he said. “I’m going to try to get some cash out, then I’m coming home. I saw Glenn, asked him to come with us.”

  “Good idea,” she said, and she sounded pleased. He was relieved. He’d worried about what she might say. “Be home soon.”

  “I will. Love you.”

  The bank’s cash machine was empty, and it had closed for the day.

  Even though Huw was back at their meeting place early, Glenn was already there. He looked pale, scared.

  “Mark Francis and a guy I didn’t know were fighting in Jim’s,” Glenn said. “I think it was over food.”

  “Fighting?”

  “Fists, feet. Blood on the floor.”

  “Fucking crazy,” Huw said.

  “Maxine called me,” Glenn continued. “Said there’s been plane
crashes. A few. She sounded confused.”

  Huw only nodded. He’d lived in Usk most of his life, but it was starting to feel like a strange place.

  On the way back to where they’d parked their vehicles, they walked against the flow of traffic, looking into every car and van and seeing the people sitting there, impatient, scared. Huw was already worrying about what state the roads north would be in.

  “Can we meet at your place?” Huw asked. Glenn lived in a nice house in the country. He’d built half of it himself. “Maybe you should bring Maxine.”

  Glenn looked dazed. “When we spoke, she said she was getting the basement ready with her folks. She’s staying.”

  Huw nodded. “So you’ll come? Your place, an hour?”

  “Yeah,” Glenn said. “Right. I’ll dig out the shotguns.”

  7

  The man is in tears. Distraught. Bereft. I have never seen such human misery. It sends a chill through me. He’s in a small room lined with photographs, clothes piled on one chair, a blank TV in the corner. It’s a family room, but he is without family. The scrolling text across the bottom of the screen, beside the BBC News 24 logo, reads, “Daniel Thornson, Austrian correspondent, live from Vienna”.

  The man stands and turns to the double doors. He opens them. (There are no subtitles, but I do not believe that what he says, what he screams, could ever be translated.)

  It takes fewer than ten seconds for the first of the vesps to hit him.

  The transmission is broken.

  Eyewitness Online, Friday, 18 November 2016

  “I’m not leaving without Otis.” That was it. I would not have it any other way, and I turned my back on Dad. It was unfair, even cruel, to use the fact of my deafness against him, and I felt wretched doing so. But there really was nothing to discuss.

  If we had to leave home, Otis was going with us. He was one of the family. I whistled softly and the dog, who’d been sleeping in his bed in the kitchen, sauntered in, completely unaware of the tension.

  I looked out at the garden. It was dark and there wasn’t much to see, just the weak glow of solar lights around the patio area and silvery moonlight reflected from the greenhouse. I also saw my parents reflected in the window. I could just make out that they were talking—Mum reached out and touched Dad’s arm, and he stepped in close and hugged her. That brief, unexpected sharing of comfort was a surprise, because I wasn’t used to seeing them so affectionate. I turned around, but for a few seconds my parents still seemed to be on their own.