Mute (Muted Trilogy Book 1) (3 page)

Mom and dad seem pretty freaked.
Jemma joined Jill in looking at her parents. Carolyn and Matthew held hands, their fingers linked on the tabletop, and stared down at the wood in front of them.

They’ll be okay
, Jemma reassured her sister. Jill nodded and went back to texting, though she was no longer talking to Jemma if the lack of notifications was anything to go by.

Jemma finished her breakfast and coffee, and she retrieved the dry erase board.

Plans for the day?
she asked her parents, tapping on the table to get their attention. Her mother shrugged, conflicting thoughts showing on her face. Carolyn reached for the board, and Jemma handed it over.

I have email addresses on file for the families of most of my students
, she scribbled.
I need to check on them.
Jemma nodded, and her father gave a thumbs up. Jill, still absorbed in her phone, didn’t seem to notice.

When her parents moved to their computers to start emailing students, Jemma grabbed her e-reader from her purse and curled back up on the couch. Jill joined her in the living room, sitting in the recliner where her phone could reach an outlet. Lost in the world of her digital pages, Jemma was only vaguely aware of time’s passing. After a few chapters of intrigue, she looked up to see her parents sitting down on the love seat. Her mother picked up the remote, pressed power, and started flipping through channels. Jemma put down her book so she could watch.

Carolyn paused on the news channel they’d been watching the night before.

There is no indication of this being caused by disease. Scientists have, so far, been unable to detect any changes in genetics or in white blood cell count, or any other physical reason nobody can talk
, typed the female anchor, Gina.

Further tests are being conducted, but results may be slow in arriving
, added her co-anchor, Rob.

If no further information is released, expect the driving restrictions to be lifted Saturday morning and schools to resume on Monday.

Ambulances are still running, and hospitals are doing their best to keep Emergency Rooms open
, typed Rob.

Nurses have reported that they are trying their best to keep Labor and Delivery staffed, but some employees are understandably shaken by the silent cries of the newborns.

Animals, meanwhile, seem unaffected, and we go now to Mike, who is on site at the zoo, where things feel largely unchanged.

Matthew picked up the board and wrote,
They either type very well or it’s pre-typed and they’re pretending.

Jemma nodded, and her mother changed the channel, flipping past other news stations and channels that were off air until she found a mindless sitcom, the sound of it making each of them jump. They watched one episode, then another, the raucous laugh track repeating itself. Jemma retrieved her phone during an advertisement for a singing game, curling back up on the couch to check the news once more.

County officials confirm that schools will reopen after the weekend. Attendance will not be mandatory until the week after.

Jemma passed the phone to her mother, who nodded and passed it to Matthew. Jemma took her phone back when he’d finished, then grabbed the whiteboard.

Know how you’re going to do your famous lectures if you can’t talk, Mom?
she wrote.

Her father laughed soundlessly for a moment before his face fell. He smiled again a few seconds later, looking at his wife. Carolyn was opening and closing her mouth repeatedly, eyes darting back and forth as she thought. Matt reached for the whiteboard, and Jemma handed it to him.

Write REALLY quickly?
He smirked at his wife, who gave him a mock scowl. He erased the board and wrote again.
No, never mind. There isn’t enough space on the chalkboard.

Carolyn elbowed him, trying to laugh but stopping as he had just done, bringing her fingers to her throat. The mirth left Matt’s eyes, the jovial moment lost. He took Carolyn’s hand, staring into her eyes, and Jemma looked away, feeling as if she were intruding.

The rest of the day passed, an unremarkable, uneventful day but for the fact that the whole world seemed to have changed. When they finally bored of television, they played a few more board games, then spent the time between lunch and dinner doing separate activities in the living room; Jemma read her book, Jill texted on her phone, Carolyn put together a puzzle, and Matt read yesterday’s newspaper.

Dinner was quiet, tense. Jemma had cooked hot dogs, and Carolyn requested the “girls” stay off their phones during the meal. With just the one dry erase board, though, conversation started slow and then petered out altogether.

At day’s end, everyone retreated to individual rooms, Jemma taking her old room, ignoring the clutter of hastily-stored items. She lay in bed, breathing in deliberately and then letting the air rush out of her, taking the stress of the day with it.

She couldn’t decide whether she’d rather be home by herself or here with her family. They helped in their ways, their presence reassuring, less overwhelming without the constant chatter. Their anxiety rubbed off on her, though, made it more difficult to pretend that nothing was wrong. If she’d been home with her phone off, would she even have realized anything had happened?

She would head back to her own house after the driving ban was lifted, but in the meantime, she wondered, how much could she help her family cope without getting overwhelmed herself? How long would the world be mute? How would this affect her job?

How long did this silence need to last before it would start to feel normal?

CHAPTER THREE:

One Week

Jemma adjusted her position in the seat she’d dragged behind the library’s main counter.

It was Friday morning. It had been almost a week since voices had disappeared, and this was her third day back at work; she’d waited a couple days for contact before emailing the main branch’s director to let her know she was going in to open up. So far, she’d been the only one here. Her coworkers hadn’t responded to texts or emails, the lack of information on the employee roster making her attempt at contact less effective than it should have been. She’d found Susan’s cell number, Cecily’s home number, and only work email addresses for each.

No patrons had arrived, either, not even the regulars she’d sort of expected to see. After a couple days of alternating standing at the circulation desk and sitting where she could see the door, she’d found a chair that was small enough to fit behind the counter. Despite being one of the smaller reading chairs with minimal cushioning, it was still comfortable enough that she could enjoy some of the books she’d been intending to read.

Her phone vibrated, and she retrieved it from her pocket, finding a text from her mother.

Half my class is still out. You still alone at work? Makes me nervous.

It isn’t much different from when I close by myself. I’m fine. I’m safe here,
Jemma replied.

Her phone vibrated again less than a minute later. She sighed and put her book on the counter.

How do you know you’re safe? If someone comes in, you can’t even scream for help.

Nobody would have heard me two weeks ago when I
could
scream. I’m okay, Mom. Really.

Her mother’s reply wasn’t immediate, so Jemma put the phone down and picked up her book again.

Buzz.

Okay. Check in again in an hour.
Jemma looked up to the ceiling, then rolled her head back down so she could look at her phone.

Will do.

Dinner tonight?
Her mom texted.

Not this week, okay? Next week, though. Promise.

She put her phone away again and reached for her book, pausing when she heard the library doors open. Her mother’s warnings flashed through her mind as she stood. She mentally scolded herself. Why was she here if she wasn’t okay with anybody coming in?

The main doors were just out of sight, the view blocked by a row of bookshelves. When a person finally came into her line of sight, she felt herself relax.

Jack was a regular patron around the same age as Jemma herself, not somebody she interacted with much since he rarely checked items out, but someone she’d seen on a near-daily basis since taking the job. He usually came in around two p.m. and stayed until closing, typing away at his computer while sitting at one of the tables upstairs. He had his laptop in a bag tucked under one arm, and he smiled at her as he approached the desk.

Jemma adjusted the whiteboard she’d put out, straightening the two markers she’d put with it. When Jack reached the counter, he looked down at the board, then back up at her, grinning more widely, his slightly-messy mop of brown hair falling forward. He brushed it impatiently away from his eyes, tapping the whiteboard before giving her a thumbs up. Jemma smiled back at him.

He looked around, taking in the otherwise empty room, then turned to her again and pointed toward the balcony. She nodded, and he made his way toward the stairs, sitting at one of the tables that overlooked the balcony instead of the one further back that he usually favored. She watched him set up his laptop, then turned her attention back to her phone, checking the news for the first time in a few hours.

People continue to find ways to compensate. Text messaging and dry erase boards appear to be the most popular, though some are taking the time to learn American Sign Language, which, though more convenient once learned…

Martial Law continues in Chicago, citizens silently protesting the strict management…

She navigated to her favorite local news site.

The majority of government offices reopened on Monday, though staffing is drastically low. For situations requiring a response, expect significant delays. City park services are working to repair damage caused by flooding after a truck drove off the road…

…west Wal-Mart has reopened with minimal staffing. Most other chain grocers remain closed, but small businesses have reopened more quickly. For a complete list of places to acquire food…

Mail delivery has been delayed. USPS says it can guarantee weekly delivery, but until more workers return…

Cox has said it has no plans to reimburse customers who are paying for larger cable packages and only receiving a handful of functional channels. It has, however, promised to continue getting as many stations back up as possible…

Jemma put her phone back in her pocket and walked around the library, straightening shelves again and checking for misplaced books more thoroughly than she usually had time for. Upstairs, Jack paused his speedy typing to give her a quick smile before he returned to what he was doing. She went back downstairs, taking her spot at the desk again, trying to decide whether she should read now that she wasn’t alone.

It wasn’t as if he were particularly demanding, but it didn’t feel terribly professional to continue with personal pursuits when a patron was present. She checked on the overdue book report, printing it and then highlighting those who had books significantly overdue. She made a note to send them emails reminding them about their books. She put together a separate email for people whose books were a week late or less, letting them know the library was open for limited hours and that the drop box was still functional. Before she could review holds and decide how much longer to hold onto a book given recent events, the library door opened again.

A young woman entered, peeking around the bookshelf. When she saw Jemma, she relaxed slightly, then came to the desk. Around her neck, she wore a small dry erase board, which she ignored in favor of the larger one on the counter.

Open? Checking out books?
the woman wrote, raising an eyebrow at Jemma, who nodded.

Same checkout period as normal. Can’t promise to be open on weekends right now. Nothing else should be different
, Jemma wrote.

The woman looked at her skeptically before underlining Jemma’s last sentence and adding,
Everything is different.

Jemma erased the board.
Not so different here
, she wrote.

The woman smiled wryly.
True. Why I came. Only place I could think of where the quiet might sound a little less deafening.

Jemma nodded, and the woman erased the board again, then made her way upstairs, disappearing from sight for several minutes. Jemma turned her attention back to records and lists. When she was finishing her report of holds that had been due for pick-up the day the voices had stopped, the woman returned, setting down a small stack of books on the counter. Jemma scribbled on the whiteboard.

Library card?

The woman nodded, fishing through her purse for a moment. Jemma scanned her card and the books, two on American Sign Language and another on reading body language. She smiled at the patron and put the automatically-printed due date receipt just inside the first book.

Have a great day! w
rote Jemma.

The woman pointed at her, then held up two fingers: you, too.

Jemma nodded, taking a deep breath and releasing it as the woman left. A smile crept onto her face. She’d imagined running a small library by herself. Here, Cecily had been closest to doing that as the branch supervisor. It hadn’t really felt as if Jemma were running things before patrons started showing up, but now, making decisions and helping people, it felt as if this were something she could really be good at. The library would remain stable, quiet, reliable, a safe haven for herself and for others who sought refuge there.