Eminent Silence

by Tristan Carey

  '…Please don't take my sunshine away…'

  'Mia,' Peter again. The phone was still by my ear. There were tears in his voice. 'It's okay if you have to go now.'

  'Don't do this, baby,' Mom said at the same time. Begging. 'Don't do this to me.'

  'If you're ready,' Peter said. 'You can go. Don't wait for me. I'll catch up.'

  No, I wanted to say. We're partners. We do it together. I'm not going without you. But this wasn't about choice. Peter wasn't ready. I was. I knew it.

  I was here. And I was not.

  The ambulance was going so fast. I couldn't see it, but I felt it. I was flying.

  Every movement an experience. I felt it all. The potholes, the honking, the yelling driver. Sirens still going, reminding me that I was going to die really annoyed. The tires, skidding on slick roads. Tilting.

  Peter was here. I couldn't see him. I knew he was in the phone, far away, unable to see me, either. 'You're safe now. You'll be happy, I-I just know it. Don't worry about me. It's okay if we say good-bye. We'll see each other again. I promise —'

  The ambulance jolted. Brakes screeching, wheels swerving. The phone left my ear, and I didn't know what Peter was going to say next. I tried to call out, but then metal crashed. Engine whining. Mom screaming.

  Sirens out.

  'Call the chopper,' said the man, still up. Dragging me, the gurney, out into the street. Dark night sky. Flashing lights. Stoplights. Cars. White box on its side.

  Where's Mom? I tried to shout, but my chest was stone. I couldn't move. The man, the paramedic, spoke into his radio.

  '…Do not abort! I repeat, do not abort!' he said. 'Mission still... I have the package, ready for transport, over!'

  Something crackled on the other side. I blinked, and suddenly a light was shining down on me. A face appeared above mine, in shadow, unrecognizable.

  'It's okay, Mia,' Mom said. I couldn't tell if she was hurt or not. 'They're going to airlift us to the hospital, okay? Can you still hear me?'

  I nodded, just barely. I wondered if she heard what the paramedic said. I am not a package. I am not a mission.

  'Put this on!' the paramedic pushed something at Mom. 'You'll need it for the trip.'

  Mom didn't question him. A mask, I realized, as she put it over her face. She put something over mine. The world went dark for a moment, then it was back.

  A rope. Shouting. More voices. Helicopter blades, churning the air, sucking what little breath I had out of my mouth. Mom clinging to me, whispering a prayer.

  'I'm giving her an injection,' the medic said. 'It'll take away the pain.'

  'No, no —' Mom said, trying to stop him. But two arms grabbed her, pulled her away. 'Who are you? Don't touch her!'

  Something pinched my neck. Then it was gone. My toes and fingers tingled, disappearing, up my arms and legs until I was floating. There was pressure around my chest, wild swinging as I left the ground. I was flying again.

  Faces appeared out of the white light, fading. Masks. Eyeless goggles. Black gloved hands. Badges on their arms.

  I didn't see a red cross.

  Then, fire.

  An explosion, below. The ambulance, in flames. I just barely managed to turn my head, get a glance, before I was pulled inside. I didn't see Mom. I didn't see her anywhere.

  Faint light, horrible noise. People all around me, touching me, prodding me, tools flashing, moving specters. Voice jumbled, yelling, orders, radio.A gray, cloudless sky. That was the first thing I saw. Next were the trees, slowly coming into focus, their bare branches reaching up towards the sky like skeletal, clingy fingers. I was lying on something soft, but cold. Small flecks of white spiraled towards me. I couldn't feel my fingers or toes and for a second I thought I was in one of those nightmares where I was paralyzed and trapped.

  But I found I could turn my head with relative ease. My muscles protested to the movement, like I had been asleep for too long. The ground came into view, soft fuzzy white. Snow.

  Wait. Snow?

  As in, winter?!

  I surged upright, suddenly out of breath. What the hell was going on? Why was it snowing? It's May, in New York, it shouldn't be snowing!

  But the more I looked around, I realized I wasn't in New York anymore. At least, not the city. The trees and snow extended, limitless, into the distance, with no signs of skyscrapers in sight. In the distance I saw a huge mountain range. It was completely unfamiliar; then again, I had never been outside of the city aside from a few field trips, so I really didn't know what kind of mountains I was looking at right now. The Appalachians were pretty big, right?

  Even if this was it, that didn't give me a lot of answers. Why was it winter all of a sudden? Was it another one of those freak snowstorms in the summer, like the one that happened a few years ago? Weather was kind of unpredictable, but I found myself doubting that over a foot of snow could last in the hearty spring of the Eastern Seaboard.

  It didn't make any sense. Then I realized I was asking all the wrong questions. Who cared why it was snowing? The more important question was: Where was I? How did I even get out here?

  What the hell happened?

  A scan of my recent memories only gave me what I already knew – Manhattan, middle of May, almost the end of the school year. I was in the middle of studying for the upcoming finals. Peter was there, maybe? It definitely wasn't this cold. Nothing that told me why I was here, why I was so far away from the city, from civilization.

  Panic started to rise. Then I finally looked down at myself, and realized that things were even worse.

  I was wearing clothes I had never seen before. White pants, white tank top, things I didn't own. They were way too clean, starchy and made of cotton. They reminded me of the things hospital patients wear, or maybe inmates at an asylum.

  It was also completely inappropriate for this kind of weather. I tried wiggling my toes, with some success. They were stiff with cold and when I did move them, it started to hurt.

  I wrapped my arms around myself. My fingers brushed against something on my left shoulder. I frowned, saw the bandaged wrapped around my arm. Oh, great, I hurt myself, too? I picked at the tape, trying to see what was underneath – but as soon as I saw a flash of red, I chickened out and slapped the bandage back in place. I winced, gasping at the sudden pain. A fresh wound, on top of it all.

  At the turn of my head, I saw my hair out of the corner of my eye, flicking over my shoulder. I reached up, feeling my hair. It was soft and smooth – smoother than it had ever been in my entire life. Wherever I had been, it must have some quality conditioner. Why would I have left that behind?

  Its quality wasn't what bothered me, though. The length was. Before, my hair, although thin, had been long – mid-back, at least.

  Now? It barely reached my shoulders. Anger coursed through me at once. Why the frick would I cut my hair? It was one of the few things I liked about myself! Short hair never looked good on me.

  Oh, my god, what happened? All this change, and no memory, no answers, no nothing. I was lost, I was cold, I was hurt, and (now that I think about it) starving. My breathing was coming out in sharp gasps. I couldn't remember any of this happening to me. Was it even me who put these clothes on? What did I do to my shoulder? Why did everything hurt? It felt like I ran a hundred miles without taking any stops.

  My throat felt parched. At least that had an easy solution. I reached for some snow, brought it to my mouth. I didn't care that it would lower my core body temperature – I needed hydration, now.

  The cold was soothing, and brought a new shock to my system. This time, though, it was beneficial. My thoughts cleared for a moment, and I allowed myself to indulge in the snow melting on my tongue.

  I had to stay calm. The best part about this situation was that I was still alive. I could work with that. It wouldn't be too hard to formulate a plan, find a way to get out of the woods (literally) and get help. Go home.

  Holy crap, Mom.
Did she even know where I was right now? She must be freaking the eff out right now. I'm going to be so grounded.

  No, no, don't think about that. Just concentrate on the problem at hand. Prioritize.

  I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down again. Thinking about Mom, or my life before this would just be a distraction. I needed to focus on surviving.

  Steeling myself, I got up. My legs were weaker than I thought – my knees almost buckled beneath me, and I had to grab a tree to support myself. My feet felt too big, unwieldy, likely due to the fact I couldn't feel them and control them as I used to. Using the tree to keep myself upright, I straightened my back; I felt like a hunchback. My muscles were so stiff that it just seemed easier to stay hunched over, but that made it harder to walk. I forced myself to stretch my spine, earning only more pain for it; apparently I must have been lifting weights, too, because my shoulder and arm muscles were sore as all get out.

  Good god, what did I do? I looked around. The world seemed a little clearer now that I was standing up. I could see a greater distance, if only slightly. There were no footprints I could see that might've hinted where I came from, or if anyone else had been around. I guess I really was on my own. I heaved a sigh, pushing away from the tree, stumbling a little on my own legs before regaining my balance. I swayed dangerously, but managed to stay upright. The snow drift didn't make it any easier to move.

  I put one foot in front of the other. My leg sank into the snow. I was almost thankful for the numbness – the pain the extreme cold would bring wasn't registering. I wondered if I already had frostbite. My toes seemed fine, not discolored or anything, but I imagined if I stayed out here for much longer, it wouldn't stay that way.

  I had to find a house. A road, a car, anything that might have people, a phone I could use. I needed to get help. I needed to get home.

  That was a good enough plan for me.

  I scanned the forest again. Which direction should I go? I didn't want to accidentally wander deeper into unknown wilderness. There had to be a sign of civilization somewhere.

  It took an agonizingly long time for me to see anything remotely like what I was looking for. All I could see were trees, hundreds of trees, and mountains, and a sky so thick with clouds that I couldn't tell what time of day it was. I was about to give up, and just pick a random direction, when I spotted something sticking out from the trees on a low mountain to my right. Lines too straight, shape too wonky shaped to be a tree.

  A radio tower.

  Yes! In a place like this, any town would have to be close to that tower – otherwise, coverage would be crappy at best, and utterly nonexistent at worse.

  I grinned, despite my dismal situation. Hope filled my chest and I started trudging in my direction. I would find a town, I could call the police. Everything was going to be all right.

  Not once did I think to look behind me at my own silhouette lying in the ground. If I had, I would've seen the deep red staining the snow.

  When I found a road, I got excited. It was paved, although very old, but it was the second sign of civilization I had seen so far. I took a break on a nearby rock, considering my options. This meant I was getting closer, right? That there was a house nearby, maybe a town. I might actually get home. I chose a direction and started walking again.

  But my feelings of hope and optimism didn't last long; maybe twenty minutes in and still no houses. Thirty minutes. An hour. The sky got darker and not even a measly little car passed by.

  As night came closer, it got even colder. I couldn't stop shaking, and exhaustion started to take hold again. The world shifted and swayed with each step — dizzying, but became indiscernible when everything went black. The night was peaceful, but my mind fell into a stupor, unable to tell fantasy from reality.

  Every so often I'd see a spark of light and stumble forward, suddenly hopeful, ready to cry with relief. It could've been anything; like from a window, a car, even a distant lantern. But each time, the light would just grow farther and farther, before blinking out completely.

  And I'd stop. And I'd cry.

  And I kept walking.

  I only know I was on the road by the roughness beneath my feet. It was only slightly better than the lumpy cold of the snow, but not by much.

  Eventually I stopped looking. I just closed my eyes, hung my head, and made sure my feet were still moving, even if was only inches, maybe if was just a slow, zombie-like shuffle to some distant, far-off dream.

  I wanted Mom. I wanted her hug, her smile, her it's-going-to-be-all-right. I wanted her to tell me what to do, that I wasn't in trouble, that everything was going to be fine so long as paid attention and did the right thing.

  But what was the right thing? I was doing all I could: keep walking, keep moving, find help. But it didn't give me what I want. Answers. Where was I? How did I get here? Where were my clothes, New York, my life? Where was my Mom?

  Sounds started to blend into each other. I couldn't tell my feet from my fingers. I didn't even bother to hug myself anymore; I was so cold it didn't even matter.

  Suddenly, my foot fell in an unseen hole - I gasped, unbalanced, as my ankle twisted under my weight. I crashed to the tarmac, sliding on my hands. I heard cloth tearing as I skinned my knees. At the same time, there was an awful crack as my ankle gave out and I whimpered — I would've cried out had I the energy left to do so.

  My breathing came in hard. I was on the verge of sobbing again — the pain was a harsh reminder of where I was, how lost I was, the utter hopelessness of it all.

  I tried to get back up, but my ankle collapsed as soon as I tried to straighten it. Another stab of pain sent me down, face against the tarmac. There was dirt in my mouth, but I didn't try to get it out — my arms felt too heavy, joints stiff, fingers unresponsive.

  And I felt so sleepy. The ground was soft, like a giant pillow, so warm and welcoming. It was almost like I was floating, and I didn't fight it. I didn't want to. I just wanted to close my eyes, rest for a bit. Maybe when I woke up again, I'll be back in my bed, and find this all to be a terrible nightmare...

  Even as I sat my head down on the ground, skin tingling at the invisible blanket being dropped over me, light flickered in the distance. Silhouettes, thin columns of trees, scattered and thick like a line of soldiers, tangled with crooked, bone branches, washing over me like shadows of memories.

  I opened my eyes again, disturbed to have my sleep taken away from me so quickly. What was that? Who turned on the lights? It was past midnight; I needed sleep. I had school tomorrow.

  The lights grew brighter and brighter, accompanied by a growing roar and my head dropped, the world falling out from underneath me and I slipped into oblivion.

  The body appeared like a ghost beneath their headlights.

  'Sergei, look out!' the woman cried, grabbing her husband's arm and pointing with her other hand.

  He saw it a split second after she did and hit the brakes - tires screeching, wheel spinning around, and the entire car careening around the body. It swung back on two wheels, the passengers screaming as the car tilted at a 45 degree angle, before the car made a 180 spin and crashed back down on four wheels, coming to a complete stop.

  The engine whirred, but all was silent within the vehicle. Man and wife were breathing hard, exchanging looks of shock with each other. Then they looked back at the body, unmoving on the road. It appeared stark white under the only lights within a twenty mile radius — white and red and very, very dead.

  The woman whispered, almost as though she were afraid of being overheard. 'Are they...are they dead?'

  The man, Sergei, blinked slowly, his shaking hand wandering to the door handle. His shirt was wet from spilled coffee. 'I-I'll go check. Stay here, Katya. Call your mother. I think...I think we're going to be late.'

  As the woman scavenged around the car for her purse (everything had been tossed around), the man stumbled out of the vehicle, his knees wobbling from the shock of th
e near-accident, the fear of what he might discover on this lonely stretch of road in the middle of nowhere.

  The cold hit him like a brick wall and he shivered, pulling his jacket closer around his body. Maybe he should've gotten his gloves first — only they were lost somewhere in the car.

  He took hesitant steps towards the body, his body casting a large shadow as he walked out in front of the car. Bending down, Sergei held out his hands in caution. Now that he was closer, he could see the body was a girl. Young, thin, and dressed in what looked like cotton pajamas. Her back was covered in red streaks.

  It took him several long seconds to trace the blood to the two holes in her back.