by Stephen Laws
The music came to an end. Gordon paused. Then began to play the same piece again.
Two hours later, he stopped.
What had he expected? That they’d come swarming again? What then? Did he expect them to speak, when he knew in his heart that they had no voice? Was he expecting them to give him answers?
Still unsure, Gordon hauled himself down the pile of rubble, and hoisted the guitar over his shoulder. He paused only once to look back, as if expecting to see small faces with bright, intense eyes; staring through the ragged hole in the ceiling. But there was nothing. Only the echo-memories of that day long ago, when he had walked past here with his aunt and had heard the music.
Back on the ruins of the street, head down, Gordon made his way slowly back to the Rendezvous.
Inside the church hall, plaster dust pattered down on the mound of rubble, swirling in a cloud. The cloud twisted and dispersed, as if something that moved faster than the eye could see had suddenly flashed through its centre.
A hinge creaked on a shattered door.
It sounded like the fading laughter of a small child.
Chapter Four
New Sounds
Lisa caught Candy watching the boy through the downstairs window of the Rendezvous. Perhaps she had been drinking again; it was hard to tell these days. Her life seemed to have blurred almost to the point of non-involvement, although she assisted with the practical requirements wherever necessary.
Lisa had just led Annie back in the garage, checking over the generator, and was making her way back towards the house and its front garden. The boy was sitting on the ground, digging a hole with a plastic spade he’d found, just like any other kid his age. Candy was sitting inside the house at the window, just watching him. Was she thinking back to her own boy? Or maybe to the strange encounter with the Cherubim in the mini-mart? Since the boy showed no sign of ever talking again or giving any details of his name or family, Lisa had decided to “christen” him Michael. They couldn’t continue to depersonalise him by calling him “the boy”, so it was time that he had at least a temporary name. No one except Annie knew that it was the name of Lisa’s father. Unfortunately, the boy—Michael—never responded to his new name.
Lisa waited for Candy to spot her as she approached the Rendezvous, remembering the confrontation they’d had the night when she refused to leave the mini-mart and the “Cherubim” had appeared. She knew what Candy thought about Annie and herself. They were “unnatural”. Lisa was well used to the arguments back home about lesbian and homosexual partners adopting children. Perhaps, then, there should be reasons to dislike Candy. The drinking, making her less than a valuable contributor to their survival situation. The way she despised her husband. The dark jealousy about the boy, as if by rights he should become her own surrogate son to compensate for the loss of Ricky. Couldn’t she see that Michael had “adopted” Annie and herself, and that it wasn’t the other way around? And what the hell did it matter, in any event? As long as the boy was loved and protected. But as Lisa reached the gate, she could not find it in herself to hate Candy. Instead, an unbidden wave of pity seemed to overwhelm her. Lisa tried to push it aside. Everyone had their troubles in their former lives, but those troubles had been dwarfed by the cataclysm that had overwhelmed them since the ’quake. There was no time for the old ways, no time for the old grievances. Only time to pull together, to learn, and to set about creating a new life for themselves in this place; never losing sight of the horrifying and ever-present threat of whatever lurked deep down in the darkness of the Chasm.
Candy’s face was blank as she continued to watch from the window, but Lisa seemed to feel the anguish inside; seemed to sense the hidden grief. No one could help her with it, not even her husband. She had locked it down tight, afraid that it might destroy her and, as a result, it was destroying her.
Candy saw Gordon before she saw Lisa, as he hopped over the garden wall. He’d been on another of his “practice walks”; finding a quiet place to play his guitar and to think. Lisa waved as she opened the gate. Gordon walked over, and when Lisa looked back at the window, Candy was gone. The boy ran over to Lisa, took her hand and pulled her across to the hole he’d been digging. He’d been making a small village of mud houses. After she’d praised him for it, she asked if anyone was hungry.
Gordon and the boy nodded vigorously.
“Then I guess…” Lisa looked up at the window again. Candy had definitely vanished back inside. “…I guess I’ll be Mother. What colour tin today?”
Gordon laughed. Since most everything they ate came from tins or bottles (until such time as their home-grown food was ready), they’d developed comedy routines between themselves on the colour coding of tins based on everyone’s mood that day. Gordon waved his hands; any colour.
“Alex tried his hand at baking bread this morning,” said Lisa. “Packet stuff from one of the shops. Smelled great this morning, so it might turn out okay. What do you think?” Gordon and Michael nodded again, and Lisa went inside.
There was no sign of Candy but Alex was standing at the bottom of the stairs looking up. Lisa had seen that despairing expression before. She’d seen anxiety on everyone’s face since the ’quake, had seen terror when the night horrors had threatened them. But it seemed that none of it matched the despair that Alex felt in trying to get close to his wife and in helping her. He looked like that now in the main hallway, as if still listening to the words that had been exchanged before Candy vanished to her room. Lisa hadn’t heard anything, but deliberately made a noise as she entered. Startled, Alex turned around. He looked old this afternoon.
“Bread smells good,” said Lisa. “Anyone tasted it yet?”
Alex dusted hands that had already been washed of flour, and tried unsuccessfully to smile. “Be my guest.”
Lisa touched him on the shoulder as she moved to the kitchen. Three loaves had been laid out on plates, on the kitchen bench, one already sliced. She tried one of the slices. It tasted like heaven. Alex came in behind her as she picked slices for Gordon and Michael, opening a tin of corned beef from one of the cupboards. “I don’t know what you used to do for a living,” she said, without turning. “Back in the real world, I mean. But I reckon you were born to be a baker. We should celebrate tonight. Our first real bread. A few expensive bottles from our ‘cellar’. What do you say?” When there was no reply, she turned.
Alex was leaning against one of the kitchen units, head down.
“Are you all right?” Concerned, Lisa moved towards him.
Alex held out a hand, shaking his head without looking.
Lisa stopped. Alex took a deep breath.
“What is it, Alex? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing that hasn’t been wrong for a long time.”
“Candy?”
“Yeah, Candy. Every day that goes by…well, it just gets worse.”
Lisa struggled to find something to say, but could find nothing.
Alex laughed. “Do you know where she is now?”
“I saw her from the garden. Watching Michael.”
“But do you know where she is now?”
“Upstairs?”
“Yes, upstairs. With Damon.”
“With Damon?”
Alex looked up, and now Lisa saw the real extent of the grief in his eyes. He nodded emphatically, so that she wouldn’t misunderstand. When he screwed his eyes shut, tears squeezed out and fell down his cheeks. He could still see the image of Candy storming past him in the hallway, cursing him. He could still see Damon standing at the top of the stairs, holding his hand down to her as Candy snapped her head back to glare at him; then reaching for Damon’s hand as they both vanished from sight around the top of the landing.
“How long…?” Lisa struggled to find the right words. “I mean, how long…?”
“Weeks now. Five, six. I don’t know.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Join the club. What am I supposed to do? Go up there now, fling open
the bedroom door? Drag the little bastard out of bed and break his nose? Give him a good kicking? I could do that. No problem. Grab Candy, throw her around. Shake her and shake her until I can get all the pain and the hate out of her. No, I don’t see that solving anything.”
“If it’s hurting you, then make it stop.”
“Yes, it’s hurting me. It’s tearing me up inside. And it’s just like it was before, in our other world. The agonies, and the hurting. The drinking. Candy’s young pick-ups. We’ve had more than our fair share of broken windows, shattered crockery, cuts and bruises. But where does that lead to, except splitting up? You see, Lisa—I love Candy. And when things got so bad between us that we were laying hands on each other all the time, I knew that I had to stand back, had to let her get on with it. Maybe burn out all the pain with the alcohol. Let her have her one-night stands, hoping that she’d realise it was all emptiness compared to the way I felt—the way I feel—about her.”
“It can’t be right, Alex. Not if it’s giving you both so much pain.”
“And then, God help me, after the ’quake hit Edmonville, after all the death and the horror that we’ve seen, I thought that it might even bring us…well, bring us together again. But now…” He waved a hand at the ceiling. “Now, it’s just like before.”
“I don’t know what to say. Don’t know how to help you.”
“You know that the boy makes it worse, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“It’s worse because he’s chosen to love you and Annie.”
“I know.”
“That night, in the mini-mart. Those children—what you called the Cherubim.”
Lisa nodded.
“They were real, you know. We did see them. Even though no one else has. They did kill Wayne. And we did see Ricky. He had become one of them, whatever they are.”
“No one doubts it, Alex.”
“You’d think that seeing him again, even like that, would make a difference. Once, he was dead. Now…well, now…he’s here. It doesn’t make sense. But even though he’s changed, he’s alive. Alive!” He gave a weak laugh. “It hasn’t helped. It’s just made things worse. Candy wants him, you see. And she still can’t have him.”
“Alex…I’m so sorry.”
“That bread’s getting cold. Come on, let’s take it out to Gordon and Michael.”
Alex held the door open for her. She paused with the two plates as she passed, and kissed him on the cheek, moving quickly on in case he didn’t want her to see his expression.
Outside in the garden, Gordon was sitting cross-legged beside the boy, helping him with the mud houses. The ever-present guitar lay alongside him on the ground. Lisa walked towards them, a plate in either hand. She could get used to this mother-figure business, if only she could do something about Alex and Candy’s grief. She tried not to think of Candy and Damon upstairs. Someone called from the main street. It was Jay and Juliet, returning from their wanderings in the ruins. It didn’t take a genius to realise that something important was happening between them. They made their way, hand in hand, towards the Rendezvous.
Lisa bent down, ready to hand the plates to Gordon and Michael.
And then the boy looked at Gordon and said:
“You can’t speak very well, can you?”
Lisa froze. For a moment, she couldn’t believe that the words had come from him. Almost a year since they’d first been stranded on this rock and not a single word from the little boy they’d saved from the Chasm. Her eyes flickered to Gordon, as if he were somehow a ventriloquist, throwing his voice.
“No,” said Gordon, and in that instant Lisa knew that she was not imagining things. Her heart was hammering in her breast. What if Gordon didn’t say the right thing in response? Would that break the magic? Would it send the boy back into his world of silence? She struggled to say something. Struggled to think of something quiet and natural so that she wouldn’t frighten it all away. She opened her mouth, but nothing would come out. Now her inability to speak seemed as if it had bound her to the other two.
“Why?” asked the boy.
Please, Gordon! thought Lisa. Say something. Say anything that’ll make everything all right. Don’t hesitate, don’t stammer. Please bring him back to us…
“Like you,” said Gordon. “I…had a bad fright.” And Lisa could see the effort on Gordon’s face. She could see the contortion in the muscles of his cheeks, could see his Adam’s apple wavering; could see the beads of sweat appearing on his brow. “Just like you. My…muh-mother and fuh-father. They were both killed.”
“How?”
“Car crash. Juh-just like you.”
“Did it make you sad?”
“Yuh-yes. So sad, I couldn’t speak. Suh-still can’t speak very well.”
“I was scared,” the boy went on. “So scared. I was…was…”
Lisa tensed, plates still held out and gripped tight.
Please, not now. Keep speaking. Don’t stop!
“I was in a different place,” the boy went on. He had only been pausing to think, trying to find a way of expressing himself. With a gesture so natural that it almost broke Lisa’s heart, he brushed a strand of hair from his eyes and reached out to take a piece of bread from one of the plates. He bit into it, and began to chew. “Like…I was here. But not here. Funny thing. I think it’s because I was so sad. Are you still sad?”
“Yes.” Gordon also reached out and took bread from the other plate. “You?” He began to eat.
“Yes.”
They ate in silence then. Lisa felt as if every nerve in her body was screaming. The plates began to tremble in her hands.
“Wuh-what’s…your name?” asked Gordon.
The boy chewed fast, and swallowed.
The pause was agonising for Lisa.
“Lisa and Annie call me Michael. But my real name is Robin MacKenna. I live at a hundred and thirty-three Kings Park. You have to know where you live in case you get lost and have to ask a policeman to take you home. My mummy says.”
There was another silence while they ate. Lisa felt sweat trickling down the small of her back.
“Teach me,” said Gordon, at last.
The boy looked up, chewing.
“Tuh-teach me,” continued Gordon. “To talk the way you can.”
“How?”
“We’ll just tuh-talk together.” Sweat was streaming down Gordon’s face now, dripping from his chin as he ate. “About…anything, eh-everything. And I’ll…I’ll copy the wuh-way you talk. Okay?”
“Okay.” The boy nodded, and continued eating.
Tears blurred Lisa’s vision, flowing down her cheeks. Trembling, she placed the plates on the ground and leaned forward to stroke the boy’s—Robin’s—face.
“Nice bread,” he said, cramming the last of it into his mouth and turning his attention back to the mud houses.
Lisa put her hand on Gordon’s damp face, felt the tension in the muscles beneath his cheek.
“God bless you, Gordon,” she said.
Gordon looked down. For a moment, he had difficulty swallowing.
When Lisa looked up, she saw that Jay and Juliet had been watching from the garden gate. Behind, Alex had been standing over her. The look of distress had gone from his face, replaced by something resolute and strong. He took her hand and helped her to rise, nodding his approval as she wiped the tears from her face. Down below, the boy said:
“Think we could make a river through these houses, or would that be wasting our water?”
“Maybe wasting,” said Gordon, and began to help with his excavations. “Draw one instead.” He took a twig and began scrawling wave shapes in the dried mud.
“Yeah,” said the boy enthusiastically.
And then everyone heard the sounds of an engine, distant and buzzing. Lisa looked across to the garage, expecting to find that Annie had found yet another way of coping with the inconveniences that the End of the World had brought. Everyone seemed to have the same idea, but no
w it was clear that the sound wasn’t coming from there. And it was getting louder.
“Oh my God,” said Juliet. “I don’t believe it.”
She was looking up at the sky.
Everyone looked up.
There was a shape up there in the greyness, heading their way. And the sound of the engine was getting louder as it came closer. An aeroplane, a helicopter?
Lisa’s heart was hammering again as everyone’s attention fixed on the indeterminate shape flying their way. Annie emerged from the garage, paused to look, and began to run towards them.
“Someone’s coming,” Lisa shouted to her. “Annie…someone’s coming!”
Chapter Five
The Journal of Jay O’Connor:
The Others
It’s impossible to describe how I felt.
There was the special something that Juliet and I had found, in spite of our situation. Then there was what we’d just seen between Gordon and the boy—I mean Robin. If that wasn’t enough, the sound of the engine from overhead. Annie began whooping and waving her arms as the shape floated closer. Then we were all doing it, like we’d gone mad.
Candy and Damon came running out of the Rendezvous just after that. Maybe I should have put two and two together then, but the only thing that anyone could see or hear was the prospect of rescue, coming closer.
“Is it a helicopter?” asked Robin in his new voice. I saw Candy staring at him. She was looking at the kid and then at the shape in the sky, as if what she could see up there was somehow responsible for giving him back his voice. Damon stood, hands on hips and shirt tail hanging out. It was, as usual, almost impossible to read anything on his face.
Gordon shook his head emphatically. “Muh…” He looked down at Robin guiltily, as if another stutter might change everything. All the kid was interested in now was the thing in the sky. “Microlight,” finished Gordon.
As soon as he said it, I knew he was right. Not exactly the fleet of rescue helicopters we’d been expecting, but the first signs we’d had that there was something else out there.