Robert Wilson: The Quiet

He kept expecting them to come back through the door and help him, but they never came. Unable to get up, he had no choice but to lay there. He found if he didn’t breathe too deeply, he could get some semblance of comfort. At this stage, comfort was being in pain that wasn’t completely excruciating. Eventually, he fell asleep. Those yellow eyes were waiting for him. They cast that yellow glow over him as he lay on a hospital operating table.

“Make way the path of righteousness, Brother Benton, and we will come,” a voice said in his head. He felt the presence of others coming closer, all around the table. That sound of growling metal rose as pairs of yellow eyes began to glow in a circle around him. Their bodies became even harder to see as the glow made everything else in the room darker.

James tried to move, but his shoulder became the center of all pain. He pushed through it and was able to lift his torso about an inch from the table when immense pressure like several hands against his chest held him down. He looked down at his chest and saw only darkness.

When he looked back up at those yellow eyes, they were closer than they had been and moving in. The glow enveloped him and he felt a change within himself. Inside the glow, everything made sense. He had to make way the path. He had to kill them. It was the right thing to do. They were in his Father’s house. He would make way the path. He saw a vision then. He was strong, pulling them apart, one at a time, his eyes glowing yellow. He wanted so much for it to happen.

They told him then in his head, without using any words, what would happen. His body would change, he would put on incorruption. A mortal now, he would put on immortality and swallow death in victory. Why was that familiar? In his head they told him it was familiar because it was truth. But he knew they were lying. And just like that, they were gone and he was awake, his eyes fluttering open.

It was the most hellish pain James had ever endured, but he made himself get up from the floor. Then he sat down on the cot and stared at the wall. It was a bible verse. He remembered it from his days in the church. First Corinthians 15… 50-something. He couldn’t remember exactly which verse, but he remembered the words.

For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality .

He didn’t completely understand what was going on, but he was pretty sure the yellow-eyed bastards in his dream were the ones responsible for everything. They were making way the path, but to what? Righteousness. What was righteousness? Cleanliness. What were they cleansing?

Us, they’re cleansing us, goddamnit!

James pulled himself up to his feet too quickly and the stabbing pain nearly knocked him back on the floor. He pushed with everything inside himself until he was leaning against the door. With his good arm, he beat on the door. “Open the door! I think I know, I know what they’re doing!” Voices grumbled at each other from the other side of the door. “I think I know what they want!” The grumbling became louder and then abruptly stopped. A good while passed and then he heard the now familiar click of the padlock.

He had to pull himself away from the door, but he managed. A man James had never seen before, dressed in scrubs, eased inside, Barger and Flannigan Jr. at each side of him.

“You’ve got five minutes.”

James told them about the dreams and about the bible verse and how it snapped him out of that glowing lunacy. He told them about the change he saw, about all they had “told” him. He had seen the change in his mind. It started like a seed, this alien presence inside you. Then it grew, replacing organs one at a time until, finally, it reached the brain.

“You mean they were human after all?” Flannigan Jr. asked. Before James could answer, the man he assumed was Doc Barnes leaned his head toward Jr. and spoke.

“Possibly. I still don’t trust him.” Then he looked back at James, “How do I know you aren’t one of them just telling us what we want to hear, eh Mr. Benton?”

“I’m pretty sure you already know the answer to that one.”

“A blood test would do it, just fine, but I’m not getting any closer to you, no sir.”

“Fine, give me the needle, you can watch from the goddamned camera for all I care. Just let me prove I’m still human!” To James’s surprise, Doc Barnes not only agreed, but decided to watch from the open door. He wanted to “see the blood with his own eyes,” to make sure. Lucky for James he wasn’t as squeamish as most people when getting his blood drawn. With Barger and Flannigan Jr. standing over James, rifles pointed at his head, Doc Barnes slid the medical case across the floor, his body mostly hidden behind the door. With some minor instructions from the good doctor, James was able to fill the vial easy as pie. By that point, he was willing to do just about anything to get out of that room.

Doc Barnes took the medical kit and slipped out of the room. Barger and Flannigan backed away slowly and closed the door, leaving James alone. Then the lock clicked into place. James laid down on the cot and waited.

A while later there was a commotion outside. Barger and Junior were grunting just outside the room. The door flung open. James stood up, ready to finally leave the room. But he realized quickly they hadn’t opened it for him. Jr. and Barger rushed inside, dragging a tall man in a suit behind them. The man kicked and flailed as they brought him inside. James bounced over to the far wall, away from them.

The man’s screams bounced all around the walls as the two young men tried to get him to stay in the room long enough for them to get out. Eventually, Barger had no choice but to knock the man out, just like they’d done to James. It was understandable, given all that James had learned, except for one thing: Barger let a hint of enjoyment show as he cracked the gun butt over the man’s head. Barger noticed James watching him and gave him an intimidating glare. James looked away. The door slammed shut and he was alone with the unconscious man. He couldn’t help thinking of those pictures of people ripped apart. He slid down to the floor and sat watching the man for any signs of movement.

When the man woke up, James backed himself into the corner, wishing they had left him some kind of something to defend himself with. He had stayed up all night watching the man and he was exhausted. It was a 50/50 chance the man was only human, but James didn’t like those odds. The man made groggy noises as he held his wounded head. James’s stomach growled. No one had brought any food nor did anything to help the man like they had with James.

The man sat up and looked at James, his expression a cross between angry and the frown of a hurt puppy. The man attempted to get up, causing James to squeeze even closer to the wall. Noticing James’s fear, the man raised his hands in a gesture of not meaning any harm. He nearly stumbled backward as he got completely to his feet.

“What the hell is going on? Why are we locked in this fucking place? And what the hell is your problem?”

James didn’t know where to even begin, but before he had a chance, the man burst over to the door and started banging his fist against it and yelling.

“Hey, fuckers, let me out of here. I’m a citizen of the goddamn United States, I don’t have to take this shit!” He walked away from the door and then charged at it. Slam . He walked back and repeated the attempt several more times before he wore himself out and gave up. He went over to James and reached his hand out to him.

“Hi, name’s Devon, who the fuck are you?”

“James,” he said, making no effort to shake the man’s hand.