Robert Wilson - The Quiet

“James, eh? Okay, James, why the fuck do you keep looking at me like I’m gonna hurt you after what they just did to me?” He looked at his extended hand and let it falter.

James looked around the room until he spotted the tan envelope sitting under the cot. He pointed to it, “Look at the pictures in that envelope and then I’ll be glad to explain.”

After Devon looked at the photos and James told him what Flannigan had said, Devon sat a long time in silence looking over each picture, one at a time. He initially had nearly the same reaction to them that James had and it took some effort to calm him down. But now that he kept looking at them, James was getting nervous. A long time passed before he finally spoke.

“This is bullshit, has to be. You really believe that bozo Flannigan?”

“Well, yeah, he was pretty upset.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty upset, from what you told me about your arrival, you’ve been pretty upset. We’re all pretty fucking upset. Still doesn’t account for locking us up like monkeys. Why do you think they didn’t let you out once they gave you that blood test?”

James stiffened. Why weren’t they letting him out? He let the question sit in the back of his head and never answered Devon. The two men talked for several hours about their families, their lives, their jobs. Devon had been a freelance accountant in Chicago, specializing in small businesses. He had a wife and two kids, a cat, and a goldfish, and now he had nothing. He turned bright red and crumpled as he talked about them. The tears flooded down his face and his body started to shake until James could do nothing else but hold the man. Devon pushed him away at first, but eventually he gripped James’s shoulder in return and sobbed even harder into James’s gray polo shirt. And then James thought of Joel and started to cry himself. After a while, the two men awkwardly separated, straightened themselves out, and wiped the tears from their faces.

James let Devon sleep on the cot that night. Feeling safe enough to sleep, he curled up on the floor and let himself pass out as well. He was in the dark abyss of dreamless unconsciousness for what seemed like a long time when he found himself aware of that presence again. Then came the glow. It was only the one this time. It told him things again. Showed him things. It showed him faces of other people all over the world. Cold, dead faces. It showed him little communities, in various parts of the globe, infiltrated by some of their own people and murdered by bloody hands far too strong to be human. It showed him many groups of people, Asians, Africans, Europeans, Arabians and others, all dying, all across the world.

Then it showed him the store and the little community that had trapped him and Devon. He saw Devon and himself busting through the door and ripping the others apart until every last one was dead. In between the still, contorted faces, James saw a flash of something else and knew he wasn’t meant to see it. In the flash, he saw and knew their biggest fears. In that solitary second he saw the community grow and flourish into more.

He saw a strand of DNA and knew that those people and plants that had survived were different than the rest. He knew that the yellow-eyed bastards needed the earth. They had come a long way and hadn’t taken any chances. They used the darkness to “Make way the path,” to cleanse away the life that could infect them with disease and bacteria.

But they hadn’t counted on James and the others. So, they sent down their own virus. Infected men with a piece of themselves. The piece grows until it becomes the man. Then the cleansing can continue. This community was the last, all right, that part was true. But what James had seen, him and Devon killing the others, that part was not. Because in that single flash, he learned the most important thing of all: they couldn’t infect the others. Something about their brains kept the yellow eyes out. And even though they had infected James, something was altogether different about him than anyone else in the human race. His body was immune to the virus.

Devon was the wildcard.

They had infected him the night before. After a few days, if the infection took, he would be the only chance they had of cleansing this last group.

After several more hours dreaming of murder, James woke up to Devon yelling and banging on the door again.

“Let us out of here, you motherfuckers!”

No reply.

James rubbed his eyes as Devon once again tried busting down the door. He sat up, holding his head in his hands. He knew there was something he needed to remember, but he could barely concentrate without his head threatening to explode. When Devon finally stopped and sat down next to James, he was covered in sweat and breathing fast. He looked at James and then laughed.

“You just gonna sit there and watch, while I do all the work?”

James laughed then too. Devon laughed harder, causing James to follow suit until both men were almost to tears from laughing so hard. Then they heard the first shot ring out in the distance. They weren’t laughing anymore.

They stood still, listening. Another shot rang out. Then another. Before long it sounded like a war had started somewhere within a mile radius of the store. Devon looked at James as if to confirm that he wasn’t the only one hearing the gunfire. Then a loud sound of radio static came from outside the door and then Mr. Flannigan’s trebly voice replaced it, speaking in quick, high tones, “Jimmy! Son, if you can hear me, take the truck behind the store and get the hell out of there.

“It’s Barger, I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but he’s gunned down the whole congregation, including Pastor Williams, I barely got out of there! But he saw me and he’s coming for me! Oh, my god he just shot Doc Barnes! Oh, my god, oh my god, oh my god, I have to find my gun, I have to—” static.

Flannigan Jr. began to squeal in misery outside the door. Devon just sat there staring at the wall. James ran to the door and started beating on it with his fists.

“Flannigan! You have to let us out of here, Flannigan. Flannigan!”

The boy outside only sobbed louder. James looked back at Devon. He was still just sitting there staring. “Devon, maybe if we both slam into this thing, we can get through!”

Devon only sat and stared in reply, oblivious to James’s very presence.

A single gunshot went off and Jr.’s sobbing sped up in near hyperventilation. James kept watching Devon, hoping he would snap out of it, but he just kept on staring. Except for Jr.’s sobbing, everything was quiet for a long while. Devon sat and stared and James stood against the far wall, waiting for one of the two, either Jr. or Devon to snap out of it, so he could get out of this place. He didn’t know who to root for more. He didn’t want to lose his last friend in the world, but if Jr. didn’t come to, they would probably both die soon. The car engine drawing near seemed to get both of their attentions. Devon stood up vacantly and Flannigan Jr. seemed to be whimpering something. James called to his friend, “Devon? You there?”

No reply.

The engine’s pitch rose as it became louder. Devon doubled over, moaning in pain. James moved closer to console him automatically, but when he was close enough to see Devon’s face, he backed off quick. His eyes glowed yellow and the veins in his head bulged unnaturally. The car’s brakes screeched outside as Devon turned and gazed at James in mindless fury.

“Devon, it’s me, remember? Devon, please.” But it was too late and James knew it. The man was no longer human. Outside the door there was a crash of shattering glass and Jr. screamed. The sound seemed to distract Devon for the moment and James backed in the corner by the door. He leaned against the wall and it creaked, redirecting Devon’s attention.