A Quiet Place...

A QUIET PLACE

  by Erwan Atcheson

  Copyright 2013 Erwan Atcheson

  License Notes

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  Originally published in print in the Fall 2013 edition of the Horror Zine Magazine and online in the November 2013 edition of the Horror Zine.

  A QUIET PLACE

  A quiet place—a town of leaf and green

  And pleasant pubs. The sun shone warmly through

  On friends enjoying drinks. This Hippocrene

  Of speech and laughter made our friends review

  The afternoon a good one. Fine cuisine

  Of ham and bread, or chips and vindaloo

  Completed it. With happiness at peak

  Last orders rang, and so did end the week.

  Returning then to work, call centers, shops,

  Or study—each did wish the dull travail

  Would quickly pass. The thin and flimsy props

  Of work-life fall when memories of joy

  Blow through them. Friendship’s value’s best. Who swaps

  A friend for any other pleasure? Aye,

  Our heroes pined to greet each other soon—

  To laugh, to speak, or sing in a saloon.

  This dream was shared by Joe, though new to town

  He’d met that friendly crowd through Paul LeClerc.

  Joe loved one person chiefly, she of brown

  And deepest eyes. With her he felt the irk

  Of awkward newness float away. A clown

  Was he, his aim to make her laugh. No work

  Or effort felt he. But, loved they as friends,

  Or lovers? Love clouds reason, difference blends.

  That Monday eve, as Joe in bed did think

  Of all the things they’d done and said—a shout

  Did somewhere break the night. “Won’t sleep a wink,”

  He despondently sighed. Got up, looked out,

  And seeing nothing, closed the fastening link

  That shut the window. Then to chase the doubt

  Regarding her, he read himself to sleep

  And woke, alarmed, at six, with book to cheek.

  He shaved his puffy face. “I’m growing old,”

  He thought without much care. He brushed his teeth;

  Went down one flight of stairs and felt the cold

  Fine blueness of the morning. “Ah, relief

  Of June!” he thought. Towards his work he strolled,

  And paused to love the flowers on the heath.

  Arriving felt the gloom of managing

  A phone-out team who hated every ring.

  His team of ten were missing three. To Paul,

  His peer, he turned and sighed, “Not this.” His friend

  LeClerc agreed. “My guys are here so overall

  We have enough to work with.” Paul did lend

  Susanne and Mick. The two teams made their calls.

  Mid-morn a near successful pitch did end

  With screams, and then the phone went dead. “How weird,”

  Said Paul. By twelve all dial tones disappeared.

  “The phones are on the blink.” “I know. A pain.”

  “My mobile too,” said Paul, disgusted. “Man,

  This sounds apocalyptic!” A refrain

  Of nervous laughs. They turned the TV on.

  The message from each channel was the same:

  “Stay home, stay in.” A governmental plan

  Was being executed. “What da fuck?”

  “It looks like we can’t leave.” “It seems we’re stuck.”

  Debate ensued; an angry, frightened talk

  On what the message meant. “Some terrorists.”

  “Or North Korea pushed the button.” “Hawks

  Inside the US, more is like.” The mists

  Of ignorance oppressed them. Ought they lock

  The doors? They did not know. Uncertain risks.

  The internet was down, to panic quell;

  No doubt the truth was better not to tell.

  By two o’clock their fear was feeling aged.

  Frustration was the mood. “I fuckin’ wish

  They’d tell us what was up,” MacWilliams raged.

  Susanne and Joe and all agreed. LeClerc bade ssh:

  “I think there’s something out there.” Silence gauged

  A scratching at the door. And then, a swish

  As though of cloth a-brushing past the door—

  This simple sound brought terror back the more!

  By now Joe wanted knowledge more than bliss.

  He wrenched aside the door. A dog, bemused,

  Ran off. “A feckin’ mutt.” MacWilliams this.

  Joe felt the moment had been too suffused

  With groundless dread. “I think we should dismiss

  Advice we have received. It is confused.”

  And saying so he stepped outside to test

  The theory that the TV sole knew best.

  “What if it’s radiation?” Paul declaimed,

  Remaining in the doorway. Joe declared

  That that thing made no sense. “They would have named

  The source of our imperilment.” He dared,

  Therefore, to leave. Paul cried: “I’d be ashamed

  To stay.” So both the friends walked out, though scared.

  The bright blue sky bedazzled them. The view

  Of all the streets was empty, save these two.

  “And will you come?” The others: no. “It’s best,

  I have no doubt,” Paul sighed. And then to Joe:

  “We ought to find the others.” In his chest

  The heavy tremor of Joe’s heart: to go

  To see those friends was inwardly what pressed

  Him most to risk this misadventure. Know,

  That since this strange day turned confusing blur

  He’d visualized but one sharp image: her.

  The force of imminent danger had reduced

  His half-thought doubts and questions to a point.

  He had to go a find and introduce

  The wonder to a truth. To seal a joint

  Or break it; that her task. He felt the use

  Of his own being, should she disappoint

  The question, would be nothing. He aglow

  With need for her—to her now would he go.

  With zeal unknown to Paul walked then the pair

  With haste to reach the workplace where their mates

  Of usual on a Monday toiled. The fair

  And pleasant day was heavy with a weight

  Unknown to chirping birds. The thoroughfare

  Was empty—traffic clean, the populate

  In terror hiding. Feel imbalance play,

  It’s easy soon to lose our sense of way.

  “There goes that dog again.” For wish of some

  Companionship aside themselves in arid streets

  They called the dog to join them. “Four-legged chum,”

  They hailed it. Smeared across its face were neat

  And clotted lines of blood. A sounding drum

  Some ominous alarm then seemed to beat

  Forewarning both our friends of something grim.

  Their eyes now seeking it, they saw the limb.

  A lower leg, with trauma round the knee

  Where it had been, it seemed, severely ripped.

  The shoe and jean still wrapped. A browning tree

  Of blood oozed from it. Joe and Paul each gripped

  The other with a mounting urge to flee. r />
  “What happens here? Is this place now a crypt?”

  Paul whispered. With a quiet meet for death,

  The duo backed away with in-held breath.

  The silence of the town now seemed much worse.

  Paul said they should go back. Joe disagreed.

  “There’s danger here, there’s danger there.” Reverse

  Their course? No chance, for Joe. His clamant need

  Was all the raucous more for silence cursed

  With danger. “Quick, let’s go, let’s make all speed.”

  Unwilling, Paul did follow. To the place

  Where friends in trouble lay they made their race.

  Not far, but feeling too far was the goal

  Along the river’s bank and over bridge.

  A corpse was floating underneath. The toll

  On our friends’ heart-rates measured high. A ridge

  Of trees now met them. Stink beyond control

  Of rotting bodies rose. A cloud of midge

  Descended on our sweating friends. “Sweet God,”

  One swore, as on a human face he trod.

  They stumbled through the wooded grove where side

  By side the corpses lay. Emerging from

  The pit of waste, they wondered—genocide

  The only explanation that would come

  Across their addled reason. Countrywide,

  A deep alarm had sounded but stayed dumb

  Concerning what was fearful. Joe: “A coup?”

  “But then, why kill, and who is killing who?”

  Despair their hearts, despair their minds. To creep

  And hide: the one desire that lived this dread,

  And hard to overcome. “It’s murdered sleep;

  I’ll never be the same.” The severed heads

  And rendered limbs that made the mangled heap

  Behind them just some steps away—the dead—

  It pushed them on. “Let’s get to P&T.”

  That place of work, their goal. Joe did agree.

  The glassy building glittered in the sun.

  They knocked on doors, on glass, until within

  The rattle of a lock replied. “There’s none

  But you we’d let in here right now.” The thin

  And happy form of Kathy had undone

  The lock and let them through. “Begin

  At the beginning—what is up?” Joe asked,

  His stress by trembling utterance unmasked.

  “There’s no beginning, nothing that we know.

  The TV tells us stay inside—we stay.

  The danger’s worst when sinks the sun below

  A half its highest peak.” “A half, you say?”

  All turned to watch the solar disk, aglow,

  Descend and reach the half-way point. “We may

  As well now lock the doors up good and tight,”

  Said Kathy, doing that with knuckles white.

  They went through double doors and locked these too.

  An office space, with people pacing and 

  Immediately saw her, went into

  A helpless trance. He went to her. Unplanned,

  He waved. She smiled. He smiled. “Hello, it’s you!”

  The ease of being with her! Loose, like sand

  Through glass. “I love you,” Joe with joy confessed.

  But then feared he’d simplicity perplexed.

  She had not time to give an answer. Bangs

  And broken glass reflexively recalled

  Attention to the setting. Inward ganged,

  Through windows smashed, some people, or so-called:

  For “people” will not usually harangue

  In speechless moan, nor leglessly will crawl

  Towards the nearest flesh with grasping arms

  Desiring blood’s sweet flavors, brain-sweet charms.

  With eyes a-rolling in their heads, and tongues

  Half-bitten off by jaws that couldn’t cease

  A-gnashing, came the evil hoard among

  The panicked living few. They moved like geese,

  Each pecking where they would. An artless lunge

  Brought down some luckless worker. To the feast

  All cannibals fast joined, in bloody spats

  Devouring those fresh innards like starved rats.

  The others fled—which way, wherever. Up

  A set of stairs went Kathy, Joe and June:

  The hand Joe held was hers. When at the top,

  Before they slammed the doors, Paul, opportune

  In timing, reached them. “Quickly, we can’t stop,”

  Said Kathy. Chairs and desks used to festoon

  The doors they hoped would keep the dead ones out.

  But still they came: they’d found another route.

  It seemed slow-motion. Mesmerized, Joe stared

  At drunken-gaited walkers lurch and fall

  Their arms and legs spasmodic. On they fared,

  Ignoring knocks, oblivious to all

  Except the mutton helplessly ensnared

  For slaughter. Joe they chose to rip and maul,

  They caught his leg and toppled him. He drank

  A draft of pain as in his leg teeth sank.

  A frenzy took the monsters; in they swarmed,

  Attempting to exsanguinate our man

  The ardent grabbing hands of June performed

  This service: up was hauled, to form the van

  Of stealing rescue. Muscles duly warmed,

  The party made no slack of gaining span

  Between the foe and them. With death agape,

  Our heroes took their last chance of escape.

  Another flight of stairs. This time the roof,

  With nowhere else to go. The miles of sky

  Denuded them. They made the door as proof

  As breathlessness would let, then fell a-by.

  Recovering from the race, in doubt of truth,

  No one amongst the four could even try

  To openly relate what passed. The still

  And silence sang with heart-attacking thrill.

  The silence deep, abyss with no escape

  Surrounded them, their hopelessness quite clear.

  Some little time remained before the drape

  Was pulled upon this show. For Joe the spear

  Of pain was dulled as something else took shape:

  The summer-brightest month of June was near

  And warmed him with these words: “I love you.” Love:

  His heart soared like the country birds above.

  To wait for zombies now it was no chore

  They stood and hugged and looked upon the land

  That drowned was with heaving bodies—more

  Came streaming through the trees. The little band

  Of Kathy, Paul, and Joe and June—these four

  Awaited fourteen hundred with a calm

  That signaled that they knew that they were doomed.

  But in two hearts, while waiting, loving bloomed.

  Thanks for reading!

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  E. A. 2013

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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