Mute (Muted Trilogy Book 1) (2 page)

“So, Jemma,” said her mother, startling her. “Been on any good dates lately?”

“Not really.” In fact, Jemma hadn’t been on any dates in months. She’d tried for a while, even letting her mother fix her up twice, but there was never any spark, nobody she seemed to connect with.

“Did you try that website I sent you?”

“Really, Carolyn, you want our daughter to try a dating site?”

“Well, why not?”

The conversation devolved back into the ethics and evils of social media, the recurring debate over whether socialization really counted if it utilized technology in the process. Jill joined in, the volume rising, one person talking over the other until Jemma wanted to cover her ears for a respite.

“Case in point,” her father was saying, “is poor Jemma over here.” The family turned to looked at her, and she fought the impulse to shrink back into her seat. “If we were using electronic communication, we’d be unable to see how uncomfortable she is at the moment.”

“I’m sorry, Jemma,” said her mother, watching her a moment before brightening. “I know! Let’s have a quiet dinner. We’ll spend the rest of the meal just eating, not talking.”

“You don’t have to do that, really,” Jemma mumbled.

“No, no, it will be fun,” her mother answered, and they lapsed into silence. For a few minutes, the only sound was the clink of forks against plates and the occasional clearing of a throat. Jemma felt her cheeks grow warmer as the silence stretched on.

Then Jill starting giggling. “This is too weird,” she said, bursting into full-on laughter.

Jemma joined her, relieved, and then her parents did, as well.

“I guess this family doesn’t do quiet so well,” said Carolyn, still chuckling. “That’s probably why you won’t risk getting a roommate, isn’t it?”

She’d considered a roommate more than once since purchasing her home; the three-bedroom house was more than she needed. The house had been cheap, though, affordable even on her income, the small neighborhood far enough from Pensacola Beach that it wasn’t in high demand. In the end, she’d decided that she preferred her continued quiet to a roommate who might make it difficult for her to relax. She smiled at her mom. “Maybe.”

Jemma tuned in and out of the conversation for the rest of the meal, and her family didn’t try to pull her back in. She smiled listening to her mom describe her newest set of students, what they liked, how they enjoyed learning. Her dad chimed in with a few anecdotes of his own.

“Then he said, ‘But Mr. Tyler, my mom said we shouldn’t tell people if they look old.’”

“It’s true,” said Jill, speaking over her mom’s laughter. “If you ask someone even younger than me to tell you honestly how you look, you’re gonna get called old.”

“We were working on writing!” her father said. “We’re learning how to flesh out descriptions. I wanted him to think about different adjectives he might use.”

“Well, he got one of them right, at least,” said Carolyn.

Jemma smiled and zoned back out. Dinner would be finished soon, and then she would need to head home, get ready for work the next day, maybe read a book before sleeping. She’d gotten a good one on her e-reader that morning and hadn’t had a chance to start it yet.

There was a bang on the table, and Jemma looked up from her empty plate. Her mom looked panicked, clutching at her throat. Jilly looked like she was trying to scream. Her father was pale and still.

Jemma opened her mouth to ask what was happening, whether her mom was okay, then stopped. She opened her mouth again, but, though she tried to speak, she wasn’t able to make a sound.

CHAPTER TWO:

Muted

Jemma took a breath, thinking. She tapped her fingers on the table and heard the expected noise as a result. She tried clicking her tongue. That made noise, though it sounded a little off, like it was echoing less than usual. Whistling was similarly dulled, not quite right.

Okay. So any noises that would work with only a mouth, no involvement of the throat, seemed to be fine. Breathing still worked normally, once she’d calmed down.

She looked back at her mother, whose expression still bordered on panic. Jemma got up and moved to her mother’s side of the table, placing her hands reassuringly on her shoulders. Carolyn took a shuddering breath, calming the slightest bit.

Jemma walked from the dining room to the living room and turned on the television. The volume blared into the silence, and pounding footsteps heralded the arrival of her family members, who stared at the normal-sounding sitcom, complete with laugh track.

It wasn’t voices in general, it seemed, at least not if they were already recorded. She glanced at the clock on the cable box and flipped to a station that typically aired live news at this time of night.

A news anchor stared at the camera, her hair disheveled, suit jacket askew. She mouthed something, then shook her head. Across the bottom of the screen, a ticker started.

Widespread reports of loss of voice. Police recommend staying in your home at this time. If you have any news to report, please text the information to (555) 345-6831. If you are aware of anyone who is able to speak or have any information as to what has happened, we want to know.

Jemma left the television on and turned to her parents and sister. Her parents were holding hands, watching the television. Her sister was typing furiously into her phone.

She jumped as she felt her own cell phone buzz in her pocket. She took it out and saw a message from Jill.

What do we do???

Jill was watching her, expecting her to have an answer. Jemma shrugged one shoulder helplessly and sat on the sofa. Her sister joined her, continuing to text, and her parents sat on the love seat.

They stared at the television for long, quiet minutes. Nothing changed. Nothing new was reported. Jemma’s heart rate was still slightly elevated, and the tension in the room was palpable. From the corner of her eye, she saw her mom trying out her voice again, with no effect.

Jemma sighed, then held her breath at the lack of usual sound. She shook her head, then got up quickly, striding toward the kitchen and retrieving the dry erase board and marker from the refrigerator before returning to the living room. Her family watched her as she scribbled on the board and turned it to face the others.

Police, doctors, news, all notified. Isn’t just us. Nothing we can do.

Jill nodded first, and her father nodded a second later. Her mother sank into his embrace.

Jemma erased the board and wrote again.

Might be temporary. Doesn’t help to panic. Distractions?

Carolyn shut her eyes for a moment, reopening them quickly as if the darkness had been too much to handle. She looked at her daughters and her husband, then nodded firmly, rising and leaving the room.

Jemma sat back down on the sofa, pulling up her phone’s internet browser. The news outlets were all reporting the same things. CNN’s headline read, “MUTE: Voices Silenced.” Reports of violence and chaos were spreading. She ran her fingers through her hair, looking up as her mother returned, a pile of board games in hand. She set them on the coffee table triumphantly, and Jemma smiled.

They sorted through the games, quickly and silently eliminating Yahtzee! and Taboo. Matt held up Monopoly, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Everyone nodded, and they sat down around the table. Jill silenced her phone when it wouldn’t stop vibrating, focusing on the game. Jemma and her mother, positioned best to see the television, glanced at the screen periodically.

When the game finished, hours later, there was nothing new to report. Jemma tried flipping through the stations. She went past stations voicelessly proclaiming the end of the world, past stations that showed a blank screen or an empty desk, until she finally reached a local news station that had set laptops in front of each anchor.

The female anchor typed, and text appeared in a square on-screen beside her head.

Theories regarding this being a terrorist attack appear unfounded.

The male anchor chimed in similarly, watching the camera when he finished typing.

The event seems to be worldwide. No city or country has been spared.

Reports of looting and rioting are already coming in from some of the larger cities
, typed the woman.

These reports range from Chicago to Tokyo to New York.

The female anchor typed again, followed by the male.

We’ll bring you updates as we receive them. From News Station 5, this is Gina…

…and Rob. Thanks for watching.

***

Jemma woke, stretching to ease the ache in her back before pulling her knees to her chest. Sleeping on the love seat had been a bad idea, but when it became clear her mother wasn’t okay with everybody retreating to their own rooms for the night—the possibility of Jemma driving to her own home quickly erased from the board—she’d decided it would be best to let her parents share the wide couch. Jill had sprawled out on the floor, cell phone in hand, and was still asleep.

The television was turned off, and the couch was empty. Jemma sat up, yawning, pausing at the muted sound.

It wasn’t that she had forgotten the events of the previous night, but she’d sort of wondered whether she’d remembered it wrong, or whether it had passed. The muted sound of her yawn had dashed those half-formed theories fairly effectively.

She got up and wandered into the dining room, where her parents sat next to each other with cups of coffee still mostly full. Carolyn looked up as Jemma entered, opening her mouth to speak before closing it again. She frowned, then forced a smile, holding up her cup of coffee and nodding toward the kitchen.

Jemma retrieved a cup of coffee and joined her parents. She sat across from her mother, sipping the warm liquid slowly. She pulled out her cell phone with her free hand, pulling up various news reports again.

Many world governments, including that of the United States, have confirmed the loss of voice that seems to be apparent in each and every citizen. Japan is yet to confirm or deny…

There is no evidence at this time as to what caused the event…

Rioting in New York, Miami, and Detroit has lessened, but in Chicago…

She thumbed over to a local news page.

County police recommend no travel except in emergency. If you are without food supplies, please text the number at the bottom of this article. Emergency personnel have gathered Meals Ready to Eat (MREs) and are distributing them to those without food. No area power outages have been reported, so this will remain on an as-needed basis until the travel restrictions have been lifted.

Jemma slid her phone to her parents, showing them the article, and they nodded.

We’re okay
, her mother mouthed. She looked back at the phone and jabbed her finger at the top right corner, then motioned for Jemma to wait as she stood and left the room. She came back less than a minute later holding a charger that would work with Jemma’s phone.

Thank you
, she mouthed back. Carolyn smiled. Jemma took the charger and plugged in her phone before she focused on her coffee. She inhaled between sips, enjoying the quiet until she caught another glimpse of her mother.

Guilt gnawed at Jemma. It wasn’t as if she’d asked for this silence, not in a real way, and she certainly hadn’t done anything to cause it. But this quiet, at least for now, was relaxing, refreshing to her, and here she was, sitting here, enjoying something that was actively upsetting at least her family and probably most of the world.

She was glad she wasn’t alone, at least. Knowing her family was okay, having their company while this was sorted out, it helped with handling the unknown, something she’d rarely done particularly well. She had actively enjoyed research since middle school. She’d delighted in coming home, opening an encyclopedia or, eventually, an internet browser, finding her answer, filling in a gap; it was beyond satisfying.

The wordless companionship at the dining room table helped now. Even if she wasn’t particularly upset at the loss of voice at this point—she suspected even she would begin to miss speaking before long—she could empathize, at least, with some of the uncertainty her parents seemed to be feeling, and she hoped she was able to help some with her presence, too.

Footsteps interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up to see her sister walking into the room, rubbing her eyes. Jill stopped, seeing the adults drinking their coffees, and then went into the kitchen, coming back with chocolate milk and chocolate cereal, cocking an eyebrow at their mother.

Carolyn’s lips pressed tight for a moment. She started to speak, silent words cut short, then shrugged. Jill grinned, setting the items on the table and throwing her arms around her mom before bouncing back to the kitchen, returning with a bowl for herself and another that she placed in front of Jemma.

Jemma smiled at her sister’s exuberance and poured herself a bowl of cereal and milk. She managed one bite before her phone lit up in notification of a text from Jill.

Do we know anything yet??

Not yet
, she responded.
You’re stuck with me until the police lift the driving restrictions.