In a Quarry of Silences
You take the cultist's van. They don't need it anymore. You drive down various streets, checking to see if there is anyone left alive, but you can't see anyone.
"Everyone needs to sleep," Nina says. "If we go into a different timezone, we might find people, warn them."
"To what?" you ask. "Never go to sleep?"
Nina rubs her face. She's been awake since this morning, as have you. Working at fast food drains you, makes you tired, and she took a ten minute nap on her last break. The last sleep she ever got and she took it in a shoddy break room, with posters about worker safety and cleanliness plastered on the walls.
On your last break, you didn't sleep at all. You haven't slept since this morning. You feel tired in your bones. Your body wants to sleep. You resist.
"So what do we do?" Nina asks. "What can we do?"
"I don't know," you say. "I don't know."
You stop talking. You keep driving around the city, because you don't know what else to do. There are twenty-four hour stores, which the workers there must have left when day broke, going back to their homes in the still light of day, wondering why the traffic was so light and the day so quiet. Falling into bed, falling into sleep, falling into dreams and never waking up.
Sometimes you would see someone still alive. Occasional glimpses of a person behind a window looking out tentatively. You look at them and they look at you, their eyes bloodshot. You are both wondering how long you can last without sleeping. How long before you get so tired, your eyes shut by themselves and you drift off without even realizing.
You don't talk to Nina. Nina doesn't talk to you. You are drowning in silence. It fills the van, the street, the city, the space in between you. The silence at the heart of all things.
The day grows longer and the sun starts to go down. You have driven past the city limits. You have driven to the very edge of the city, where the hills raise themselves up like giants. You could continue driving. You could drive until you reached the sea and then you could swim out into it and let yourself sleep then. You could dream and drown at the same time.
You don't want to do that.
"I don't want to die," you say.
"I know," Nina says. She holds onto your hand. "I don't want to die either."
"I'm sorry about your mom," you say.
She doesn't say anything. She doesn't ask what's going to happen. She doesn't ask anything. She watches as the moon rises over the hills, the brightness of it shining across the empty sky.
And then, as if God flipped a switch, the moon went out.
ul
"Everyone needs to sleep," Nina says. "If we go into a different timezone, we might find people, warn them."
"To what?" you ask. "Never go to sleep?"
Nina rubs her face. She's been awake since this morning, as have you. Working at fast food drains you, makes you tired, and she took a ten minute nap on her last break. The last sleep she ever got and she took it in a shoddy break room, with posters about worker safety and cleanliness plastered on the walls.
On your last break, you didn't sleep at all. You haven't slept since this morning. You feel tired in your bones. Your body wants to sleep. You resist.
"So what do we do?" Nina asks. "What can we do?"
"I don't know," you say. "I don't know."
You stop talking. You keep driving around the city, because you don't know what else to do. There are twenty-four hour stores, which the workers there must have left when day broke, going back to their homes in the still light of day, wondering why the traffic was so light and the day so quiet. Falling into bed, falling into sleep, falling into dreams and never waking up.
Sometimes you would see someone still alive. Occasional glimpses of a person behind a window looking out tentatively. You look at them and they look at you, their eyes bloodshot. You are both wondering how long you can last without sleeping. How long before you get so tired, your eyes shut by themselves and you drift off without even realizing.
You don't talk to Nina. Nina doesn't talk to you. You are drowning in silence. It fills the van, the street, the city, the space in between you. The silence at the heart of all things.
The day grows longer and the sun starts to go down. You have driven past the city limits. You have driven to the very edge of the city, where the hills raise themselves up like giants. You could continue driving. You could drive until you reached the sea and then you could swim out into it and let yourself sleep then. You could dream and drown at the same time.
You don't want to do that.
"I don't want to die," you say.
"I know," Nina says. She holds onto your hand. "I don't want to die either."
"I'm sorry about your mom," you say.
She doesn't say anything. She doesn't ask what's going to happen. She doesn't ask anything. She watches as the moon rises over the hills, the brightness of it shining across the empty sky.
And then, as if God flipped a switch, the moon went out.
ul