WnW 1.3 Say Nothing

I took a roundabout way home, trying to avoid people who might see me covered in blood and decide to call the cops. Luckily, the rain picked up again, and I didn’t see many people. It was past midnight at this point and while many people were still out partying, they seemed to be staying indoors. It was a long walk, but there was no way I was taking a bus and I didn’t own a car.

One couple walked past and I felt their stares on me. It was hard to care at this point, I felt so tired.

Once I got out of the entertainment district, the city stretched out into neighbourhoods with the sky less crowded by tall buildings. I kept off of the main roads and took back alleys where there was less light. My legs ached and the roadburn on my side stung but it felt good to let the rain beat against my face as I walked.

Finally I reached my home. I unlocked the door and slipped inside. The interior was dark, but I navigated it easily, making my way to the bathroom. There was loud snoring coming from my mom’s room, which was a nice reassurance that she wouldn’t find me like this. I gently shut the door and then stripped off my clothes, placing them in the sink and turning on the faucet. The flowing water made the clothes bleed, making me think of the way the Pianist had bled into the puddles in the alley.

I stared into my dark reflection. Tall and skinny, with long hair that looked like a hood in the dark. My mind filled in the details: brown eyes that looked at the ground too much, chin that had razor cuts on it regularly from me pressing too hard, and teeth that were clenched all too often. Thankfully I couldn’t find any blood left on me, the rain had taken care of that.

I turned off the sink and held up the pants to the window for some light. No good. It was thoroughly stained. I scratched at one of the stains with my fingernail. It looked like human blood. Well, what were you expecting? Some green ooze? I smelled my finger. Iron, like how coins smelled. It immediately made my stomach churn.

Giving up, I went to the kitchen and got a garbage bag to put the clothes into, tying it extra tight, then pausing and grabbing another bag to double up. I’d keep it in my room until tomorrow and try to find someone else’s trash can or a dumpster to throw it into.

Nip, my cat, was curled up on my bed in a black ball of fluff. I lay down beside him, listening to the rain from my open window.

The ceiling became a mural of grasping hands and Chase’s smile in the dark.

“The Pianist,” I murmured. “Victim of radiation?” The idea was amusing to my tired brain. “Able to play ten pianos at once, but the only song he knows is ‘row, row, row your boat’.”

Unable to bear staring at the ceiling any longer, I pulled out my phone and went to the Sillwood news page. I kept refreshing, hoping that an article would pop up that would explain the whole thing, dreading that it would explain that I had just aided a murderer. Instead, there was nothing. So I kept searching until my hand slowly lowered to my chest, eyelids too heavy to keep open.

—

A sonorous gong pealed through my nightmares, growing ever louder, speeding up, heightening in pitch until I was wrenched out of sleep.

The doorbell petered out and I heard my mom’s footsteps go past my room as she went to go answer it.

“Mac! Claire! So good to see you!” My mom trilled.

I lurched out of bed, hitting the floor. Nip arched his back and looked at me accusingly from the windowsill.

“Hi Cherie. We were on a walk and Claire wanted to stop by.”

I picked myself up and blearily sought out some clothes. The black garbage bag sat in the corner, no less ominous in the daytime.

“Come on in,” Mom said. “How are you? Are the wedding preparations going well?”

I did a quick spin in front of the mirror to make sure I was presentable and left my room.

Mac spotted me over Mom’s head and smiled wider. “We’re doing well, thank you Cherie. I love the flowers out front, did you plant those?”

My mom beamed and waved a hand dismissively. “Oh it’s just a little hobby. Come in. Hi Claire! You must tell me about dress shopping.”

I saw that my mom wasn’t even going to let them take their shoes off. “Mom, I’ll bring some snacks over to the living room.”

“Oh don’t worry about the snacks,” Mom said, finally backing up a bit, beckoning. “Have a seat, I’ll go make some tea. Do you drink tea, Claire?”

Claire bent down to unzip her boots, black hair getting in her face. “Green tea if you have it, thanks Ms. Harte.”

Mom bustled past me to the kitchen, patting me on the shoulder as she passed. She smelled like she had smudged this morning, a heady scent of sweetgrass and sage. My stomach tremored, but it passed quickly. I brought Mac and Claire to the living room, where two couches sat at a right angle from each other.

“Hey, Nick,” Mac said as he and Claire sat down. His brow was furrowed with concern. My heart quickened. “Real quick, before your mom gets back. You made it home safe yesterday?”

“Hm? Yeah, as far as I’m aware.” I pretended to give myself a concerned pat down.

Mac’s expression remained serious. “You sure?”

I looked away. “Yup.”

“Ok, good.” Mac relaxed his posture, leaning back. “There was an incident a few blocks from the pub last night. Some cops showed up to ask questions and kinda killed the mood.”

I watched Nip saunter into the room, tail swishing. “Damn, too bad,” I replied.

Mac shrugged, offering Nip a hand to sniff. “Just glad you’re okay. They had the whole street blocked off, looked pretty serious when I walked by.”

My mom’s voice drifted in from the kitchen. “Carrot… Carrot! No, not- what am I going to do with a ferret?”

Mac and Claire both gave me quasi-concerned looks. I chuckled. “She got a brainbox. It hasn’t gotten used to her voice yet.”

“That, or she is currently cooking up something special,” Claire said, pretending to be skeptical. She got up and walked to the kitchen.

Trying to be casual, I asked, “Did the cops give you any more details about what happened?”

Mac paused then shook his head. “No, just asked us if we’d seen anything.”

“That’s it?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “That’s it. But they looked spooked.”

I pulled out my phone, refreshing the search engine with the same phrase I’d typed last night. Still nothing, just one person’s social media with a shaky video of the cordoned off street. Emergency personnel bustled about. I refreshed again and the video was no longer available. Was someone trying to cover this up? Shouldn’t it be huge news? Chase hadn’t contacted me yet. He knew something, obviously. There’s no way he would be that calm otherwise… Unless he was just that crazy.

Claire re-entered the living room. “She’s baking muffins,” she said, amused. “And not the ferret kind.”

Claire sat down next to Mac and leaned into his shoulder, reaching out to hold his hand. They were both wearing engagement rings. They were a good-looking couple. Mac had a strong jawline and looked intelligent with or without glasses. He always kept them on him, but only tended to put them on when he was tired. Claire had glossy black hair that contrasted with her blue eyes and a punk safety pin earring. Mac was suave and charismatic but Claire knew how to tell an actually funny joke. Mac was often too much of a people-pleaser, while Claire had a sarcastic edge that I liked. They were a good fit and I absolutely approved of the two of them.

My mom called out from the kitchen. “Nick, dear, can you come talk to the box? It won’t listen to me.”

I rolled my eyes and got up to go to the kitchen. Mom had the Brainbox on the counter. She was mincing carrots while looking at her tablet. “I need one with no raisins,” she told me, her frizzy hair bouncing as she worked.

I picked up the black box. The front had a symbol of a white chef’s hat on it, along with the company logo. Sillwood’s artificial intelligence tech scene was pretty big right now. Some billionaire was pushing to integrate A.I. into our medical system. The box had rounded edges and only weighed about ten pounds. I looked at the bottom. It was switched on. She’s improved since last time at least. 

I waved a hand in front of it to make it listen. “Current database?” I asked.

It responded with a vaguely french accent. “The current database I am accessing is the local Sillwood news database.”

“That’s odd. The news doesn’t have a carrot muffin section?” I asked in mock disbelief.

“It does not,” the matte box replied.

I looked at Mom. “Well, there’s your problem.” She made an exasperated noise.

“Switch to the cooking database.” I told the box. “And whenever someone says recipe, you should automatically switch to this database.”

“Understood. Twenty-three carrot muffin recipes were found that can be made with ingredients you have or have equivalent products to.”

Mom tapped her tablet and pecked me on the cheek. “Thanks dear, you can take the tea out to them.” She handed me a tray with cups and a kettle pot.

I brought the tray back to the living room and placed it on the fancy coffee table my dad bought because he liked the carved legs. Mom had thrown most of his things into storage, but she hadn’t done anything about the table. I wasn’t going to bring it up if she wasn’t.

My mom came and sat down, bringing the scent of baking muffins with her. “So,” she said, sitting down and lightly slapping her knees. “You must tell me how the wedding is coming along.”

“Basically ready at this point,” Mac answered,  “Just have to decide on a playlist during the ceremony.”

“Crowblood,” Claire said with a deadly serious expression, “I wanna see some heads bang.”

I laughed. “Good choice! You should wear the mask during the vows.”

Claire looked at Mac wryly. “That should make the kiss interesting.”

Mac chuckled. My mom laughed along, probably not realizing that Crowblood was a heavy metal band. She changed the subject, “Claire, are you working in the city?”

“Mhm. I’m a paramedic outside the city. I’ll be transferring back to Sillwood after the honeymoon.”

“When does your government gig start?” I asked Mac.

He made a face. “Technically, I’m already on call. But they promised I wouldn’t be needed unless the world starts to end.”

The conversation started to be directed more towards my mom. I found my attention drifting, the background noise pleasantly numbing me into a daydream.

My phone buzzed and I tensed. Why are you getting scared for no reason? I pulled my phone out and glanced at it, before quickly hitting the power button to turn the screen off. I kept my shaking hands clasped together. It was a text.

Chase: I FOUND ANOTHER ONE. LET’S MEET AND SET UP A PLAN.