I'm pleased to present to you today part one of my three part story,
Sound of Silence, one man, one dog, one virus.
Parts two and three will follow later this week. I hope you are all
doing well, and staying occupied ....it can be difficult some days.
Enjoy the read. The story may appear in other venues as time
goes on...we shall see.
Sound of Silence © by Stanley Swan part one
It was
another Saturday morning and Jacob Wilcox was awakened as usual by
his loyal
lab Rufus who was now perched half onto the bed. Uttering a slight whine
to get his
masters attention, the dog extended his front paws up and out to wake up
the old guy,
after all, it was morning. It was early,
the 7:00 am daylight was just starting
to
infiltrate the small upper window over the bed, barely illuminating the shot
gun that Jacob
had hanging on the wall over him. A shotgun and a well mannered
lab, what
more could a man ask for in his late seventies?
Jacob gave a half roll in the direction of
Rufus, the man’s hand extending to the
dogs’ head
which invited one sharp bark from the wet mouth of the seven
year old.
“Alright, alright, I’m ‘coming” uttered Jacob. Rufus made a mad
dash for the
front door, knowing that the old man
would soon be there to
grant his
release into the morning air.
Jacob opened the front door and Rufus made a
mad dash, leaving Jacob to
examine the
new day. There was light fog, but it looked dry. A crow called
from the old
pine in the front lawn, the bird welcoming in the new day.
It would be
a good day to ride the bike into town and get a few things he
thought. He
didn’t go in often, maybe every three weeks or so…just for some
staples,
maybe a few cans of soup. Rufus had a good supply of dry food,
a hefty
twenty five lb. bag gifted to him by his good neighbor Bill who lived
another mile
up the dirt road.
It was a quiet life Jacob and Rufus lived.
His wife Elizabeth had passed away
many many
years ago, and Jacob retiring soon after,
had found this wonderful
little three
room cabin that suited them just fine. The bike ride into town
would take
about fifteen minutes or so…the road had a slight incline going
to town, but
was almost a coast on the way back, making for an easy trip
with a bag
or two on the handle bars.
Jacob didn’t
have any television….his radio, an old RCA sitting on the top
of his
writing desk stopped working about two weeks ago, so Jacob had
little
public contact with all that was outside of his little domain. He and
Rufus had
their daily routines and wanted for little.
Jacob went about his morning chores, feeding
Rufus and himself and
putting
together a little list for the things he would want to pick up in
town. He
exited the front door, Rufus on his right hip as always,
waiting to
be put on his outside line. “I won’t be gone to long old boy…
going to bike
into town, get a few things, and be back before you
know it.”
Rufus gave a slight whine, but he knew he would be the one to
watch over
things while the boss was gone. There was no need to lock
the front
door…Jacob had little of anything worth stealing, although there
were a few
pieces of silver forks and knives in the drawer that he figured
might be
worth a few bucks.
Jacob pulled the old Sears-Roebuck bike off
the front porch and down
the three
steps to the road. Built in the early sixties, the bike was his transportation
to and from
where ever he needed to go. He gave Rufus a quick rub on the
head and
pushed his way into the roadway…”I’ll be back before you know
it good boy”
and Jacob came to speed, heading down the fifty foot driveway.
He pulled up
to the mailbox, stopped and pulled opened the box, expecting
probably
some junk mail…it had been probably a week or so since he checked it.
He received
little mail, other than his monthly S.S. check. The box was empty…
except for
the two or three black flies that made a quick escape toward him.
That’s kind
of odd he thought to himself….nothing at all in the box…well, at least
it was less
he had to take back home and to burn out back in his fire pit.
Jacob again mounted the bike and took a
left turn, pointing the bike into
direction of
town. There wasn’t much there. It had been settled in the late
1800’s, a
small farming community with a hardware store, gas station and
auto repair
shop, and a nice little dry goods and grocery store and post
office. He tried to recall how many lived there… he
think he was told about
five hundred, but he wasn’t sure of the
number…the nearest big town of
fifteen thousand or more was twenty miles to
the west.
As he peddled up the road, the sky was
attempting to brighten up a bit
as the
morning fog started to clear. It was early spring, and although it
was a bit
chilly, he could feel the onset of a nice day approaching.
On his right
Jacob passed heavy underbrush and a stand of oaks that
had been
there since he could remember. He
continued to peddle down
the middle
of the road, not worrying about traffic. It was rare that a car
would make
him move over to the right to allow their passage.
As he
continued up the slight incline towards his destination, Jacob looked
to his left,
taking in the scene of the small cemetery which held a good
number of
the town’s earliest residents as well as those that had most
recently
deceased. It was odd that his town would have a death or two,
maybe every
other year or so. The town’s needs were addressed by
an
undertaker about ten miles away. As Jacob made his way closer to the
cemetery’s
entrance his eyes popped at what was before him.
Towards the
back of the cemetery, he noticed bright colors of red, orange,
white,
yellow. The colors were in great contrast to the current brown and
winter
-killed vegetation that covered all of the landscape. Making a quick
left turn
into the cemetery, Jacob pushed hard on the pedals as the wet
mud started
to engulf the old bike’s tires. Odd he thought…there were tire
tracks
here…and it looks like many vehicles had been up this road in to
the
cemetery. He pushed further on, looking ahead to try to investigate the
bright
colors he had seen from the road…and then he stopped.
His feet
went to the ground as he caught his breath, holding the bike to
balance
between his now slightly weakened limbs.
Before him and to his right….there were
flowers…..several arrangements
of flowers
still displaying great colors but starting to fade in their freshness.
Jacob
dismounted, put down the kickstand and held the bike waiting for it
to secure
itself in its’ new position. Walking around the front tire Jacob
walked to
the first grave. He stopped and inspected what was before him.
His gaze
went from left to right…counting the arrangements as he began
a slow
meander in the same direction. One, then
two, then three, then
four, then
five, then six, and finally number seven.
What was happening here? Jacob froze in the
space that now engulfed
him…. his
mind trying to analyze what was in his
eyesight. Here there were
seven new graves….
all looking to be recently dug within the last week or two.
The flowers
that were on the first one were now starting to look pretty bad,
the flowers
on number seven looking the freshest. But who were these people?
Had they
been in one family and died in a horrific fire or accident? Then all
of sudden
something else most unusual. There was what the undertakers call
a temporary
marker placed at the head of each grave….but they were devoid
of a name,
date or any other notation. The only inscription on each marker
was a large
number in bold black, #1, #2, #3
and so on.
Jacob’s
discovery was interrupted quickly as the silence was cut by a pair
of robin’s
chasing each other just a few feet over his head. It was spring,
and everything
was coming alive….except in this quiet place.
Jacob stood
still…..the only sound was his own labored breathing….
in a
cemetery….in the spring time…with seven new graves…and the sounds…
the absence
of all….there was just the sound of silence.
Jacob turned around and saw a small head
stone about two feet high…he
walked to it
and sat down…staring at the seven graves before him. What did
all of this
mean? Why were there no names on the markers… or dates….
Jacob
thought to himself. Perhaps he really wasn’t here… perhaps Rufus had
awakened
him, and that he had not gotten up for the day…but rather rolled
over and
gone back to sleep… that was it… he was dreaming all of this.
Jacob sat perplexed for many
minutes…minutes that seemed like hours.
The silence
around him was deafening….oh it would be great just to hear
a car go by
on the road just fifty years from where he sat….but it wasn’t to be.
The magic of
spring continued to unfold as a scampering chipmunk ran from
behind him up
to the foot of one of the near graves….stopping at the newly
turned soil,
inspecting, then heading back from whence it came…presumably
not wanting
to cross the dark moist soil. Jacob thought….perhaps someone in
town couple
explain to him what this was all about. He rose from his grave-
stone stool
and went to his bike, mounting it and reversing his path to make
his exit
from this now chilling place. A left at
the road and he was now back
on his way
for his staples…and hopefully some answers about the new seven
residents of
this rural resting place.
Jacob pedaled deliberately but not
quickly…thinking as he pedaled about
what would
await him upon his arrival in town. As
he passed two or three
houses
getting close to town, he noticed no movement, no cars, no dogs
barking….just
serene quiet. He pedaled onward…and
headed directly to
Larson’s
grocery on main street…it was main street… actually the only road
that led in
and out of town. As he neared the front door he noticed again,
the
emptiness of the street, with absolutely no movement at all.
Dismounting
and walking to the front door, he gave it a shove thinking it
would
surrender to his movement but it did not. Jacob stepped back and
looked at a
piece of paper that had been hung on the inside of the window
facing out.
It read, in tall dark letters, “Sorry, store is closed until after this
virus is
gone…might open Wednesday for a couple of hours.” He recognized
the signature of Bill Larson, the owner. He
had known Bill for decades and
Jacob was
sure that Bill wouldn’t be playing a practical joke here.
Now, Jacob
started to shake. It wasn’t a shake in response to the cool morning
but rather
to the note that he had just read.
Virus? What virus is the note referring to?
Jacob had not heard of any such
thing, but
then again, his radio had been down for some time.. and he hadn’t
been to
town. Jacob looked up and down the street…looking for perhaps a
light on in
a house…someone moving about…but nothing. It was as if everyone
had just
gotten on a bus and left town, all at once.
Just as he was turning his bike to depart
the store…he heard an upstairs
window being
pulled open, and there staring down at him was the owner
Bill Larson. “Bill” exclaimed Jacob, ”what to hell is
going on here?”
“Guess no
one came out to tell you what’s going on uh Jacob? Thought
someone
would have been out, but everybody’s pretty scared right now…
can’t blame
‘em. Whole thing started a couple of
weeks ago…nation -wide…
some sort of
virus they can’t get a handle on…first took Beatrice Smith,
then John
Osgood, then Bill Monroe, then four more all within a week or
so.
Undertaker Turnball decided just to bury them all in one place real
quick like,
then he’d get it all sorted out after it was all over…shame… no
funerals,
nothin’….just put them in pine boxes and put them all out at
Rural
Cemetery…just to get them out of town.”
“Yes”
replied Jacob. “I saw all the graves when I just rode in….I was shocked.
Are you
going to open the store anytime soon?”
“Well, the
state says I have to close until Wednesday, then I can only open
two hours
every morning, but I can only have two people in the store at a
time. Is
there anything you can’t live without until then?”
“No no”
Jacob replied. “I’m good for now. I’ll be back then on Wednesday.
Are you
doing o.k.? And Margaret too?”
“Yes we’re
o.k…..just a little nervous like everyone else I guess…I’ll see you
on
Wednesday.” And with that Larson closed the window and pulled the
faded white
curtains that appeared to have seen better days.
Coming up, part two…..encountering others.
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