Silenced

by Natasha Larry

  I don’t know why I’m wary of her. Sirens and witches get along like cornbread and collard greens. But this one, she makes me a little twitchy.

  “My apologies, Pike. Come take a little walk with me.”

  I frown slightly, but follow her, anyway. It’s not until we’re several feet away from the tank that she says anything.

  “First, let me say, I admire your courage. And try not to beat yourself up over Ana.” She stops and looks up at me.

  I wince and back away a few inches. Hearing her name sets me on edge. Once again, without thinking I say, “I don’t like the smell of bullshit this early in the morning, so why don’t you just get to what you got up this early to tell me?”

  She laughs, which makes me even angrier. I’m an eight year old boy she kicked with a chuckle.

  “You’re more powerful and far better a man than you know.” She smiles. It’s a warm, open thing like blankets of sunshine.

  It doesn’t make me feel any less uneasy.

  “If you think I’m good, you’re one of the less talented witches I’ve meet in my day.”

  She shrugs. “I know you dwell on what you were forced to be, instead of what you’ve done to resist it.”

  With a sigh, I glance back at the tank, then at her. “Look, I don’t have time for riddles.”

  “Ah, yes.” She rubs her hands together. “You have to get on with putting the world right. And that’s sort of what I want to talk to you about.”

  I raise my eyebrows, a prompt to go on.

  “You must convince Kiwi to reject the knowledge of who killed her sisters.”

  My insides tighten. No matter how much I forget about all the bad stuff that’s about to happen, I can’t.

  I shake my head. “Why?”

  “Because she’ll die once she finds out, and you need her. You need her to travel back to Compound Six and watch after Sadie.”

  I don’t ask how she knows about any of this. About Kiwi, about Sadie. Some witches just know things.

  “Why do I need her to do that?” I ask, even though I know the answer. It’s why a fate showed herself to me. It’s why I didn’t want to see. To be her victim. It’s what I’ve been dreading since I left Sadie at Compound Six.

  I’m not going to make it back.

  “I think you know why. You just don’t know that it has to be Kiwi.”

  I glance toward my shoes and kick the gravel. “Why?”

  “It just does. She’s the only one at that place that truly cares about Sadie’s wellbeing. And Sadie must make it.”

  I nod. That we can agree on. She makes it sound like destiny, but for me Sadie has to make it because Sadie has to make it. I can’t imagine a world without her.

  “And…”

  I look up at her in time to catch her staring intently into my face. “If she knows who kills her sisters, she will not look out for Sadie. Or for anyone. She must never know.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You know who killed her sisters?” My voice comes out hushed, as if I’m afraid furies have super hearing.

  She nods. Her face twists into a grave mask.

  Dread hits my stomach like some tangible thing. It makes me ache all over.

  She nods as if confirming some recurring nightmare.

  “You did.” She touches my arm to offer comfort. “You killed them.”

  I walk back to the tank on phantom legs. I don’t know how they carry me, but they do. I get back into the tank without remembering going through the hatch. Then, I’m in my harness and we’re rolling forward again.

  It all feels like a dream.

  An incredibly shitty dream.

  Kiwi nudges me and offers a small smile. That tangible dread shoots me in the gut again. “What did she want?”

  My mouth gapes open, and I try to think of an answer for her. Finally, I just shrug. “I’ll tell you later.”

  She nods, then offers me some crackers from her pack. I force myself to smile and accept them.

  We enjoy a dry breakfast together.

  I almost choke on mine.

  We’re on the road for an hour before I nod off and memories slip in, catching me off guard. They take me before this. Before this tank. Before Compound Six. Before Kiwi. They take me to the beginning of the shit bombs. When I was in hiding with Lorna, a witch that was my best friend and saved my life.

  Wisps of memory seep in and out of wrinkled brain passages. They give off smoke. There is a fire. Back then, there was always a fire. They were trying to smoke us out, the descendants, and either kill us or send us to camps.

  Later to become known as compounds.

  Fire was their chosen weapon. The Enforcers called this purifying. One day I woke up under the smell of heady, black smoke. After cracking open one eye, a plank came crashing to the floor.

  The plank was on fire.

  I sprung up and darted my eyes around. Smoke was everywhere, from the spitting fire eating its way into the shitty wood of our hideout, I knew they were here.

  “Lorna!” I coughed, jumping up to cram all my shit into my duffel bag. “Lorna, we gotta move!”

  I’m halfway to the door when a feeling of dread digs into the soles of my feet. I stop dead to rights. The curtains shrivel up in flames. That same fire drives oxygen from the room.

  I should have my ass outside. But I don’t. Something grips me inside that burning shit shack. Something magical. Something powerful enough to stop me.

  I grind my jaw until it pops. Then, I call her name again.

  “Lorna!” Sweat drips into my eyes, stinging them and blurring my vision. “Lorna?” It’s a whisper now, because part of me knows something has happened.

  Something terrible I slept through.

  When I get the use of my feet back, I turn around. Away from the door, back into the fire. Slowly, I walk toward the back door. It’s awash in flames s puttering tiny orange sparks at me. I cover my face with my free arm to avoid them. Swinging my bag over my shoulder, I throw my leg into the flaming door. Wooden splinters explode outward. Avoiding the fire as much as possible, I duck through the hole.

  “Lorna!” I start forward and trip on something. I crash to the ground. Once there, I turn and peer at whatever tripped me up. Orange light casts ghost figures drawn in a child’s hand atop a green tarp. The tarp rises in key areas.

  Those lumps let me know someone is under there.

  I close my eyes for several seconds. I ignore the sirens crying at me from the distance. Enforcer sirens, not the call of my people, and try to remain still.

  As if stillness would undo what I already knew had been done. When I open my eyes, I inch forward on my hands and knees, one arm extended. Taking in a deep breath, I grip the tarp and snap it up into the air.

  As it flutters through the air like a fall leaf, I whip my head away from the body and puke up all my insides. When I feel empty, I wipe my mouth on my tattered sleeve and glance back at her, tears stinging my eyes.

  Lorna. The toughest witch I’ve ever known. Dead. Her ebony skin turned charcoal and scale-like. Whatever killed a witch as talented as her was good. Not a Muse, but a Spirit of some kind. A dead fucking spirit of some kind.

  I’m so in my head that I don’t notice I’m not alone until bright spotlights flood my vision. They hit the wet grass in cones of lights. I glance up, using my hand to block out some of the white glare.

  “That’s him,” an unfamiliar, female voice says.

  I pull my hood down over my face.

  “Take him.”

  I stand up and squint through the light, trying to make out any facial features. All I can manage is dark forms wearing even darker clothing.

  Two females step forward, smiles on their faces.

  I’m well fed, so I know exactly what they are.

  Furies.

  The same furies that killed Lorna.

  I smile, well fed and hungry for revenge. Before they can even think about lashing out at me with their power, I stretch my mouth open and wail.
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br />   The two females freeze. Their skin stretches tight over their bones. They start to vibrate, their feet sinking into the damp earth. I wail louder.

  The blinding light crashes to the ground. Everyone tries to move, but they are tied down under the weight of my wail. A wail said to shatter a person from the inside out. I hear a plop. Then another, and another. Their blood splatters me, but I don’t stop. More plops, like a horse galloping through mud, reach my ears.

  Blood sprays me, the tarp, the side of the house, and the brown grass, until each and every one of them lies dead and liquefied at my feet.

  I close my mouth and breathe hard. I wipe the blood from my cheeks. From my forehead. I glance back at Lorna and sigh.

  “Sorry, I didn’t wake up, Lo Lo.” That’s what I called her. She usually called me asshole. She was usually right.

  I look around for something, a shovel, to bury her. I don’t find one, but I find a spade, which is close enough.

  I dig quickly. More of them will be coming now. Lorna had shielded me as long as she could. Then I dropped the ball. Now, they may just be able to find me.

  I wind up with a shallow grave. I roll her body into it and cover it up. On top of the moist dirt, I trace Here lies Lo Lo, the baddest ass witch I’ve ever known. Yours, Asshole.

  I want to smile, but my muscles stay paralyzed under the weight of grief. This would have made her grin. But she can’t smile, because she’s dead.

  I don’t have time to think about that. I have to get out of here.

  I struggle to my feet and trudge on unsteady legs toward the body remains. I dig through pockets and shove whatever may or may not be useful into my duffel.

  I’ve just shoved a green plastic bag with peanut butter marked on it into my bag when I hear more sirens.

  I take off away from the house, toward the tree line, and away from Lo’s remains forever.

  Someone is shaking me awake. My eyes shoot open, and Kiwi is staring down at me with a frown.

  “What?” I throw my arm over my face so she can’t look at me.

  “Who the hell is Lo Lo?” Her voice is light with a sharp edge underneath.

  I sit up and avoid her gaze.

  I notice the tank has stopped.

  “Where are we?” I ask, deciding to avoid her question, and her gaze, for as long as I can.

  “About thirty miles from the crossroads,” she says, the incarnation of dread wrapped around her tone.

  That dread is contagious. I feel it in the pit of my stomach. My now pounding temples. Every inch of muscle in my body.

  “Why are we stopping?” I ask.

  Juliet gets out of the driver seat and heads for the hatch. “Bathroom break. Whatever we meet out there is going to be vicious. I don’t want anyone pissing their pants.” She flips her hair, bends over to open the hatch, and disappears through it.

  I narrow my eyes. “I’m going to enjoy the shit out of killing her.”

  I’m not looking at Kiwi, but I can feel her gaze on me.

  “Who is Lo Lo?”

  I force a laugh. “I’m about to die, and all you’re worried about who Lo Lo is?”

  I can feel her still looking at me.

  I stand up and say, “I’ve gotta piss.”

  Then, I duck through the hatch. I can feel her almost at my heels. I walk a few paces away from the tank, whip my dick out and let and stream flow. She stands beside me.

  I glance at her. “Do you mind?”

  She folds her arms over her chest and just glares.

  Apparently she does.

  Her standing there, watching me piss, makes it harder to empty my bladder. Finally, I sigh, and look up at the dark sky. It’s the first time I notice we’re surrounded by darkness. Unnatural darkness. Seeing as how we left at the ass crack of dawn and haven’t been on the road long enough for it to be dark, the creeps run up my spine.

  Another trick of the gods.

  I’ve always heard it’s darker the closer you get to the crossroads. I don’t want to think of that, so I answer Kiwi.

  “An old friend,” I say. “She died before I was captured by the C6 Enforcers.”

  I shake out the rest and tuck myself away, then turn to face her.

  “Actually, she was murdered.” I don’t add by your sisters, who I killed soon after. Stuff like that never helps a relationship, if that’s what this is. I sigh. “I need to talk to you.”

  She stares at me for several seconds, then nods. “I have to pee first.”

  I nod as her feet shuffle off.

  I stand there while Juliet calls out, “Five minutes!”

  The sound of clambering into the tank follows. I roll my eyes.

  “Kiss my natural black ass,” I say under my breath.

  I tap my foot, waiting for Kiwi to come back, trying not to feel swallowed by the surrounding darkness. Purple streaks that look like they were painted in the sky by jets stretch across the inky darkness. And there is no sound.

  Something I just notice. Except the foot shuffles coming from Kiwi and sounds echoing from inside of the tank there is nothing. No birds. No crickets. No wind.

  Darkness and silence.

  I swallow as Kiwi comes walking back up to me. I can’t think about that now. I have to convince her to give up on her sister’s murderers. Sadie’s life depends on it. I don’t know why, but my gut tells me to trust XJ. So that’s what I’m going to do.

  I take Kiwi’s hands and bring them to my chest.

  Her eyes widen

  “What’s going on, Pike?”

  I close my eyes. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to express how desperate I am for her to agree with what I’m about to ask. My momma’s words come flooding back to me.

  Just do it.

  I sink to my knees and peer up at her. Her features distort into a worried mask.

  “Pike, what the hell?”

  “Kiwi. I need you to do me a favor. And it’s more than I deserve, and it’s too much to ask of you. But, I need you to do this.” My voice cracks.

  Her eyebrows furrow. “What is it?”

  “I need you to give up this hunt for your sisters’ killer.”

  She rips her hands away from mine and backs away. “Why the hell would I do that?”

  I scoot forward on my knees and reach for her hands again. I decide to be as honest as I can.

  “You remember the witch at the haven? XJ?”

  She nods.

  “She says that Sadie is going to need you. And I believe her. I need you to go back to Compound Six and look after her, and you can’t do that… You can’t do that if you’re dead.”

  She stares down at me for what seems like a forever stretch of time. My gut twists. I’m afraid she’s about to say no. I can see it in her face, so I offer her more truth before she can refuse me.

  “And I can’t do this… If I know you’re going to be dead. I need you alive, or I can’t…” I drop her hands and look at the black soil.

  I shake my head. The weight of my futile plea sinks into my shoulders. They droop. I start to shake.

  Her fingers dug into my hair, and she pulls me close.

  “Pike, I don’t know what to say.”

  I nod, without looking back up at her. She’s going to say no. It takes everything in me to look back up into her face. I’m surprised to find warm sympathy there. I take one more shot.

  “I need you, Kiwi. I need you to do this.”

  Her eyes water. She blinks back the tears before they roll down her face. “Does this mean… Does this mean that you don’t plan on making it back?”

  I go with even more truth. I shake my head, and she gasps. I quickly stand and pull her toward me. She has to say yes.

  She has to.

  “At least not right away. But I will find my way back to both of you. I just need you to do this. I’ve never needed anyone more than I need you right now.”

  And it’s true.

  I didn’t think I’d ever need Kiwi Grunder, but I do.


  She has to say yes.

  She lets me hold her for a while. Juliet is shouting something that we both ignore. We just stand there, gripped around each other tight, waiting for her decision.

  She finally says something that I can’t understand because her lips are pressed against my chest.

  I pull away. “What?”

  My heart stops, waiting for her answer in order to beat again.

  “When you make it back to us, will you help me find my sisters’ killer?”

  I close my eyes, the weight of her decision floating away from my shoulders and into the impossibly dark sky. I’m still holding weight, though. She wants me to help her find me. Can I do that?

  As I open my eyes, I nod, giving her another bit of truth. A truth I know I’ll regret as soon as I have to deliver.

  “Yes, we’ll find them together,” I say.

  She half smiles and hugs me. “Then I’ll give it up, for now.”

  I don’t know what to say. There is nothing to say. I’ve never been more wrong about a person in all my life. Because I can’t think of anything to say, I pull her up into my arms and press my lips to hers.

  Juliet is still yelling. We continue to ignore her.

  There’s this bitch I sometimes hate. I like to call her time. As soon as we pile back into the tank to close the gap between us and the crossroads, she starts messing with me. It’s nothing new. She’s always doing this to me. The first time I got some, time speed up. It also got me a nick name, Five Minute Pike.

  My last few moments with Sadie, she sped up again. In a moment I wanted to last as long as possible, time rejected my wish. It’s only now, as I ride toward my death. Toward the god that made, then cursed me, she gives me my wish. Only, it’s the wrong situation. The wrong time for time to go so fast.

  It seems like we made the forty-five miles to the crossroads in record time. In seconds, not minutes. And, as our surroundings grow darker and quieter, all I can hear is time, laughing her ass off at me.

  In the silence I almost hear her whisper, it’s time.

  We come to a stop. The silence in the tank is filled with a hardness I can break a window with. We all sit there for several moments. Me, trying to swallow my terror.