Blue

When the Well is Dry

Adam's head hurt. He was dreaming again, a confusing jumble of sirens and water, and it ended with the moon rolling like a giant rock towards him, trying to crush the life out of him. He shifted uncomfortably. Someone was taking a mallet and driving it into the bottom of his right foot. He shifted again, trying somehow to get away from it, but his body stubbornly wouldn't move. It drove into his foot steadily.

Someone was kicking his foot again.

He opened his eyes slowly, met once more with Curtis' face and a healthy dose of deja vu. Curtis looked the same; a little uncomfortable and pinched, but he was fine, healthy, and, most importantly, he was alive. He was alive!

"Curtis!" he hollered, the joy of seeing the man alive taking over his body. The sound of his voice didn't cut through the silence. Adam clutched his throat, momentarily confused. Had they damaged his throat? But... he wasn't hearing anything at all. Nothing. Not the creak and subtle groan of the bunker he should have been hearing. Not the rustle of cloth on cloth he should have been hearing as Curtis shifted back and forth.

"What the FUCK," he screamed but he didn't hear that either. He didn't hear anything.

They had deafened him.

The sound of the siren, the sound of his Grandmother's voice, Chase's voice. Music, voices, nature. Nothing. He would never hear them ever again. He wouldn't hear the satisfying noise of a zipper, of the ocean crashing. Nothing. The weight of it fell on him, crushing him to the ground. He had been asked to hold up the sky and he wasn't capable. His eyes burned as he sobbed onto the ground.

"Nothing. Nothing. Nothing! NOTHING!" he screamed as he cried. He could only feel the noise leave his throat. He rocked like a child, his arms wrapped around himself, snot and tears mixing into one substance on his face.

Someone tapped roughly on his boot and he looked up, startled. One of the Ensigns was tapping his foot roughly, his eyes intent on Adam. Once he caught Adam's attention, he began to sign. It was no sign language Adam had ever seen in his life, the movements rolling and sweeping, but Adam understood every aspect of it without even trying.

'Calm down,' the Ensign signed, 'We can still talk to each other. I'm sorry. I really am. We all went through what you did. It's part of the Culling. In order to hunt them, you can't hear their song. They would drown you twice and not even bat an eye.'

Adam stared at him. The Ensign reached forward and lifted up Adam's hands, propping them up.

'You can sign too. It's just like talking, just a little different. It's part of the Culling. Your hands know what to do.'

Adam looked down at his shaking fingers. He had just been talking, been screaming, and all that had come out were noise-less words. He concentrated on his hands carefully, trying to see the words coming to life through his fingers.

'We have to be deaf for this?' he asked. The Ensign was right. His fingers were taking over, deftly signing his words for the Ensign. The Ensign nodded encouragingly.

'It's an unfortunate part of being an Ensign. I promise you, we all went through this, the same as all of you,' the Ensign said. The Ensign pointed briefly at himself, 'I'm Mohammed.'

'Adam.'

He looked away from Mohammed, able to focus for the first time on Curtis standing before him. Curtis looked the way Adam felt. His face was battered, his lip split and a line of stitching holding his right eyebrow together. He was decorated with a smattering of bruises, ranging from a dark, terrifying black eye, to the faint yellow bruises dotted across his right cheekbone. He looked awful. Adam winced at the sight of it, feeling the bruises and cuts on his own face shift painfully.