And The World Shuddered Into Silence

The boy burst out from behind the white bony shrub, not too far away. She peered through the wiry curtains of her hiding spot in the long, brown grass to watch as the boy pounded across the wide expanse towards the edge of the cliff. She pursed her lips, brows furrowed. After a moment of debate, she opened her mouth to warn him, but the breath was sucked out of her lungs by the sight of the approaching three figures. The sun beat on the scene, and the heat’s haze distorted their image almost comically, like in a mirror in a funny place. Her mouth, still open, was dry as she watched them stalk up to the boy, whose cracked sobs were faintly audible as he scrambled up the rocks. The figures stopped, and one reached over their shoulder to grab a long stick that was strapped onto their back. The boy’s wails grew fainter as he made distance along the rocks towards the edge. The figure stepped forward and pointed the stick at the retreating back of the boy. He lifted the end up. Crack. The boy paused. She watched as the boy swayed in confusion, side to side, as if deciding which way to go. Finally, he settled, and fell forward off the cliff. His descent was silent. The figure turned back to the other two, and was met with angry grunts. They gestured towards the cliff, pantomiming the distance he must have fallen. She tried to make out the conversation, but they spoke in gestures and groans. One threw their arms up in exasperation. Another crossed their arms, tapping their foot. The one with the stick—no, they all had sticks—the one who had killed the boy hung his head. 

She decided it was time to leave. Carefully, quietly, she turned around and began sliding on her sweat-slicked belly away from the group, towards the rock formation that housed the opening to the cave. The grass scratched her face and exposed limbs as she wriggled along the dry, cracked ground from which it sprung. Every time she moved, the tips of the grass would sway and crackle as they rubbed against one another. Through the brown blades, she could see the rock formation growing bigger and the opening to the cave appearing over the horizon. The group hadn’t seemed to notice her presence, so she crawled a bit faster. Her left foot landed on a particularly fragile thorny branch, and she felt it snap. The sharpness cut into her sole. She froze, and slowly turned her head to look behind her. The hunters were looking in her direction, eyes narrowed. She watched as the biggest one, a tall, heavyset man, gestured to the other two. They were moving forward. Her breath quickened. A primal instinct nudged her, and she jerked up into a crouching position, listening for the hunter’s movements in the tattling grass. Swish. Snap. The grass spoke, reporting their locations to her as they ventured farther into the field. Her whole body tensed as she waited for the instinctive signal. They were coming closer. Then, the moving stopped. She strained her ears, but the wind brought no bits of conversation, just the whispering of the dry grass rubbing against one another. The decision was hers. Then, she jumped. She burst up and out, dashing through the field, the tough calluses on her feet protecting her from the scratches of the cruel grass, its whispering laughter falling on deaf, desperate ears. Now, the only thing she could hear was her own breathing as she sprinted towards the yawning cave. The surprised grunts of the hunters pierced through her breaths as she felt them begin their pursuit. Something zipped past her ear with a sharp whoosh and hit the rock face in front of her. The ground beneath her transitioned from rough, hot dirt to smooth, cold rock, and she pushed herself to move even faster. Her footsteps echoed around the chamber that encased and hid her as she ventured further inside. 

She could still hear the footfalls of the hunters, but they were far behind her. Sound travelled long in the cave. She hadn’t had time to grab the morsels of food that she had scavenged over the past few weeks, and her stomach growled pitifully. She was walking now, trying to catch her breath. The cave was warm, but not as hot as the blaze outside. It seemed to pulse around her, gently guiding her down dark, winding tunnels. Time was hard to feel in the cave. She began to slow, but was spurred on again by the faint echoes of the hunters’ footsteps as they tracked her. It was pitch black now, and she reached out her hand to run it along the warm wall of the cave. Suddenly the stone dipped inwards, and she bent down, feeling around, and realized that there was a small indentation in the wall. She entered and managed to curl up inside the nook, encased by the protective womb of stone. 

Approaching footsteps. One heavy, two small. The hunters traipsed by her with purpose, marching almost in unison. She almost expected them to stop, to notice that she was there, but they continued on without pause. Slowly, she poked her head out of the small den, and watched as their barely perceptible figures disappeared around the corner of the tunnel. Taking a small breath, she crawled out of her hiding place and began the trek back towards the opening of the cave.

When she finally reached the opening, night had fallen. She stood there for a while, staring out into the ink-covered landscape. It was much colder at night. She had grabbed her food on the way back, and was now nibbling on a few dry roots. She chose a spot on the horizon, one that looked the same as everywhere else—dark and flat—and began walking towards it. The ground beneath her feet turned from cool stone to cold, prickly dirt. At night, it was even more quiet than day. At least the sun seemed to make some sort of noise when the vibration of its heat hit the ground, but the moon, cold and still, offered no such relief from the inescapable silence of the outside. She walked, and wondered if the world would ever have noise again. Her father had once told her that creatures used to live in the world, and they made lots of sounds, what he called a “racket,” at all hours of the day. She wasn’t quite able to imagine that, so he would imitate their calls for her, his booming laughter following every impression, as if trying to fill as much of the silence as possible. It was kind. She had tried to make her own noises since then, to make her own escape, but had been unsuccessful. She couldn’t even remember his impressions now. All her memories were silent.

Morning was breaking, and as she gazed at her surroundings, she noticed a small speck of light twinkling on the prairie, just slightly to the right of the direction she was heading. She couldn’t quite tell how far it was away, but felt drawn to it nonetheless; it wasn’t like she had had a destination in mind when she set out. When she finally got close enough to the light to make out its source, she discovered a large black contraption. Its shiny exterior was reflecting the sun, projecting a strong glare that blinded her when she looked directly at it. She approached it gingerly, picking up a nearby stick to poke at it and tensing her body in anticipation of an attack. It did not move. Her hand outstretched, she placed her palm directly on its surface—and immediately jumped back, hissing in pain. Her hand now boasted a welt glowing an angry red. In the fog of pain, shock, and anger, she swung the stick at it. There were a few seconds of silence, when suddenly it responded with an ear-curdling cry. Incessantly, it screamed, despite her desperate attempts to keep it quiet by hitting it more with the stick. She whipped her head around and scanned the area with wide eyes, searching for whatever the thing was calling for. Her heart dropped. Not a far ways away stood the group of hunters. However, this time, she felt confident in facing them. 

She looked down at her hand and realized that she had a stick of her own this time. The wind whistled past her ear, whispering encouragement. With a slight smirk, she lifted it up and pointed it at the group, aiming at the leader. The two smaller she could deal with afterwards. She lifted up the end. Crack. A warmth spread throughout her chest, and for the first time, just for a moment, she felt the thrill of the kill. She went to tilt the stick to aim at the next hunter, but her arm would not move. Her eyes darted back to the middle of the group and realized that the bigger one had not fallen. Her stick dropped to the ground, and she fell with it. Lying on the dry, cracked ground, she felt the dead grass scratch her cheek and poke her tongue that sagged out of her still-surprised mouth. The haze returned, and she could not tell if the fuzzy figures of the hunters were moving closer or farther away. Her stomach was warm now, and she looked down to see the front half of her body dyed red. The dye gurgled out from a small hole above her breast, leaking out onto the ground, feeding the hungry dead ground, the hungry dead grass. Her gaping mouth was dry, hot air sucking the breath out of her lungs. Her mind worked furiously, trying to figure out what had gone wrong, why the stick hadn’t worked, why her vision was going dark, why the silence was growing louder.

The smaller man, Hansel, lowered his rifle and grinned. The hunters walked towards the corpse of the young girl together, and the bigger man nudged her body with his foot. The third companion, a lean woman, looked down upon the girl in distaste before walking over to the car and heaving out a large black duffel bag from the trunk. She dropped the bag onto the ground and began rummaging through it, pulling out neatly pressed clothing in three large plastic bags. The men crouched to retrieve their own attire, and the group silently shuffled around, pulling crisp white shirts over sunburnt skin, dirty from their hunt. Pulling on his trousers, Hansel felt his legs warm at the touch of the black fabric. He put his hand onto the car’s hood to steady himself—

“Damnit!” he cursed, ripping his hand away. The black metal had burned his hand, which now boasted a welt glowing an angry red. The skin had puckered around the wound seared into the centre of his palm by the car-turned-branding-iron under the bright gaze of the sun. He had forgotten how damned hot it was Outside. 

He stuffed his hand into the pocket of his blazer, and looked to his companions. The harpy, Maria, was standing next to the car watching on while Danny the oaf sat on the ground next to the girl’s body, tugging on his right shoe. 

“Danny, get out of the way so we can split her,” Maria said bitingly, and the giant crawled away obligingly. Before she could say another word, Hansel stopped her.

“Not yet. Let’s do it further along the road—I want to cool off in the car.”

She sighed, but nodded, and Danny lifted the girl up by the hair with one hand and used the other to prop open the trunk where she was unceremoniously thrown inside on top of the prepared tarp. Danny was too concentrated on his untied shoe to place her carefully. Hansel strolled over to the back of the car as Maria and Danny piled into the passenger and back seats, respectively. The car’s glossy body hadn’t been flecked by the girl’s blood from Danny’s careless handling. Good. He looked down at her pathetic body crumpled into the small trunk of the corporate-owned car. Her face was still contorted into an expression of surprise, and her tongue dangled out of her mouth, dripping blood and saliva onto her cheek. He looked back at the stick she had pointed at them which had been abandoned by where her body had fallen, and smirked. Glancing up through the rear window, he noted that Maria and Danny were preoccupied with their own mindless conversation and reached behind the body. His hand closed on the hot metal of the gun he had stashed before the trip—gripping it was still painful, he had forgotten about his injured hand—and slipped it inside his suit jacket. He then snapped the girl’s gaping mouth closed and arranged her into a more comfortable position. It was a long ride back, after all.

They began driving east, according to the compass on Maria’s phone. Hansel heard her inhale beside him, and braced his ears for her grating voice.

“Not a lot of meat on this one, Han.”

He kept his eyes trained on the expanse in front of them, and reached over to turn up the air conditioning. 

“Are you listening? She’s barely got enough for one family, let alone three,” Maria whined. “What are we going to do?”

Hansel squeezed his eyes shut and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The comforting weight in his suit pocket reminded him of the promise of silence in a few hours. He smiled tightly.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said calmly, “at least we bagged something.”

“Uh, Han, umm, are you sure they’re not gonna check the trunk? We didn’t even cover her with nothin’,” Danny’s voice floated up to the front of the car, “And won’t she smell?”

“Anything,” Maria snapped, not looking up from her phone. Hansel glanced over, and noted that she had no service.

“Huh?”

“It’s anything, not nothing. How did you even get a job?” 

“Danny, think about it. Have they checked the last five times?” Hansel interjected.

“Well, no…”

“So, if they haven’t checked before, why would they start checking now?”

“Well, I guess they wouldn’t, then.”

The car fell into silence. Hansel smiled again, loosely this time. He had to do it before the beginning of the road. They’d taken this trip many times before, so he knew roughly how far he could go. It was a twelve hour ride. He glanced at the clock. Two hours had passed. He had about seven more to go before they hit the main road and the cell towers. Lots of time. With luck, he’d make it back home in time for dinner.

---

“Han...do you have any more vitamin packs?” Danny mewled, leaning forward to the driver's seat. His spiky black hair brushed against Hansel’s arm as he pleaded, finally having tired out all of the games on his phone. “I haven’t had any since this morning and I’m really deficient.”

Hansel felt Maria turn to look at him as well. 

“Yeah Han, can we stop? We can plan out who gets what, too,” she said.

The clock reported eight hours since they had started driving; it was now late afternoon, and the sun was beating down relentlessly, ignorant of the time. Hansel didn’t really want to get out of the car—he had reached a comfortable external temperature—but he supposed now was as good a time as any. 

“I have some packs, Danny. Sure, we can stop.”

Hansel pulled over, then chuckled to himself when he realized how pointless that was. Maria looked at him like he was crazy, and he quirked an eyebrow at her. Maybe he was a little crazy. Having solid food taken away from you and replaced by powdered vitamin packets that contained “All the same benefits, without the chore of chewing!” would drive anyone insane. 

Maria and Danny hopped out of the car. Danny stretched and yawned, rubbing his eyes. Maria headed straight to the trunk to get first dibs when they partitioned the body, as always. Hansel glanced in the rearview mirror to check that they were preoccupied, then stashed his hand in his suit pocket to grip the gun before stepping out of the car into the heat. His hand didn’t hurt anymore. In the shimmering haze, Maria and Danny’s faces were distorted. Hansel focused on their bodies. Hands, legs, meat. He could smell their flesh cooking. He blinked the sweat out of his eyes and licked his lips. His mouth was dry. Best to get it over with before he lost the nerve. He walked over to the trunk. Maria had already taken out a Sharpie and was holding it over the girl’s body, tapping her foot impatiently.

“Last time you got the torso, Han; this time I get it. Joaquin and Leo are basically skin and bone at this point,” she said. Her voice wavered. 

“What? Hansel, I should get the torso; you know that my folks eat a bunch,” Danny whined, plodding over to claim his portions. 

“It’s not my fault that your family eats like pigs,” Maria bit back. “Han, I’m taking it.” 

Danny scowled as Maria sectioned off the girl’s naked torso—which was growing red from being exposed to the sun—and labelled it with an “M”.

“Danny, didn’t you want some vitamin packs? Let’s talk about this after you take some,” Hansel interjected.

As he led Danny over to the driver’s side of the car, he felt nervous. He had never killed a citizen before. If someone found out, he’d be served. However, his doubts were quickly crushed by the images of Molly and little Greta. Their smiling, gaunt faces. Molly’s arms quivering as she held Greta, who weighed barely a pound. The whole city had turned into a crypt, teeming with skeletons. They were alive, sure. Kept in a purgatory state by the vitamins, but skeletons nonetheless. They all were. Or at least, they were all supposed to be. Hansel and Maria were thin, weak, but Hansel had noticed recently, during their past few hunts, that Danny looked relatively healthy. He had a sneaking suspicion that Danny had consumed the rest of his family and took his portions from the hunts for himself. Hansel convinced himself that this was enough to justify what he was about to do next. Danny lumbered in front of him as he took aim; he had to do it before the oaf went inside the car. He didn’t want to get blood on the seats.

“Hey Han, so where are the packets? I don’t see—” 

Crack. 

Right in the back of the head. Hansel knew he had to act fast. Maria was a quick thinker. He whipped around to see Maria pointing her own gun at him. Her hands were shaking. 

“Hansel, what the hell are you—”

Crack.

She had wasted time. She should have just shot him when she had the chance. He grinned at her, watching her bulging eyes fade away as her body crumpled to the ground. 

The trunk was too small to fit all three bodies together, no matter how hard Hansel pushed down on them. He couldn’t quarter them himself; he had no equipment, and he couldn’t risk getting blood on his suit. He stood back, panting, and reassessed. A hot breeze wafted gently across his neck. After a few moments, he made a plan. Hansel dragged Maria’s body around the car and placed it again in the passenger’s seat, making sure her suit jacket covered the blossoming rose on her chest. She slumped over, and Hansel closed her eyes. He did the same with Danny, heaving him into the backseat and lying him down, closing his eyes as well. His head was still bleeding. Hansel took off Danny’s jacket and wrapped it around his head as if he were using it as a pillow. Satisfied, he walked back around the car, shutting the trunk and hopping into the driver’s seat, whistling a tune he couldn’t quite place. 

Hansel was closing in on the city; he had hit the road a couple hours back. He had the windows open to air out the rotting beginnings of the three corpses in the car. He didn’t want them to spoil before he got home, so he pressed down on the gas pedal. Once he reached the gates, passing the checkpoint was so easy, he could’ve cried. They didn’t even ask to see his identification. See, Danny? I told you, didn’t I? 

Here, it was much louder than Outside. Lots of people and cars and noises that people and cars make to distract you. With a whispered password and a sly wink, Hansel left the butcher's shop through the backdoor with his cuts of meat. He whistled the tune again. Now he remembered where it was from. A jingle from a chocolate milk commercial he had seen when he was younger. As he pulled into his driveway, he thought back to the commercial. He had seen it on the TV. It had brown cows and he had thought that chocolate milk came from brown cows. What did they sound like? When he opened the front door and greeted his toddling daughter, exchanged a knowing look with his wife—whose eyes lit up ravenously when he brought in the meat—he tried to remember. What sound had the cows made? He supposed it didn’t matter. As he lay in bed, eyes open, belly full, he could see the brown cows grazing in their pastures, but he couldn’t hear a thing.