The Lost Voice

Mid-west USA

Spring 2065

 

The room was dimly lit. The curtains drawn against the evening sun. Outside, the air was still in the slightly cloudy sky. Inside, the air musty, filled with the aroma of coffee.

 

At the kitchen table, two men sat, alone, on opposite sides, tension clearly on the face of one.

 

“Mark. I’m scared.”

 

“Come on, Jason. What are you scared of?” said Mark, carefully cradling his coffee cup.

 

“Of what we’re becoming. Of what this town is becoming. I don’t like the way Bill and his thugs are taking over everything.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“The way they walk around brandishing their automatic weapons, forcing people out of their way.  The rude remarks. The way they tell everyone what to do,” Jason replied angerly. “The work gangs. The work assignments. Just taking whatever they want. They’re like schoolyard bullies that nobody punishes who know they can get away with anything. Anyone who tries to resist… well, you know.”

 

“They may be a bit rough,” said Mark firmly, “but they’re keeping us safe from all the crap coming up from down south.

And that work needs to be done if we’re going to be able to support ourselves.”

 

“So, you’re willing to make a deal with the devil?”

 

“It’s not that bad, Jason.”

 

“Isn’t it? I’ve been asking around and not everyone is happy about it.”

 

“These are tough times. We need to stick together.”

 

Jason stood up and began pacing back and forth. Mark watched him carefully. Finally, Jason turned to Mark, leaning on the back of the chair.

 

“You have a fine daughter, Mark. She’ll soon be a beautiful woman. What if Bill wants her for his harem? What are you going to do then?”

 

“Bill wouldn’t do that, and if he tries, I’d stop him!”

 

“How? How would you stop him? He has the guns and his gang. What do you have that could conceivably stop all of them?”

 

“Nothing,” said Mark softly, hanging his head.

 

Jason was quiet for a long while.

 

“You see my point now? We’re prisoners here. We can’t even leave the town unless we’re escorted by Bill’s men.”

 

“I won’t believe that. They’re there for our protection when we go out of town.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes, really!”

 

Jason sat back in his chair; head hung low for a few moments before looking directly at Mark.

 

“I really thought you’d see the truth,” he said softly. “You were my last hope.”

 

“Last hope for what?”

 

“For getting rid of Bill and his gang. I really believed that if you’d support me, we could get the town behind us and kick them out.”

 

“No,” replied Mark firmly. “We’re safe here and I want my family to be safe, and I’ll do anything to keep them safe.”

 

After a few moments, Jason put a sad smile on his face.

 

“I’s okay, Mark. Go home to your family. I won’t mention this again.

 

* * *

 

The next morning the town was buzzing about the accident. It seemed that Jason had tried to leave the town in the middle of the night and had been mistaken for someone trying to sneak in and was shot by the guards.

 

Mark sat at his kitchen table, trying to stop the dread that soaked his body and thoughts. The talk in the town was wrong. He knew the truth. He knew that, after he’d talked to Bill, they’d gone to Jason’s house, dragged him to the outside of the town and shot him.

 

Mark realized that the safety he’d sought for himself and his family was gone. He was now Bill’s puppet and wouldn’t do anything against him no matter what Bill or his thugs did. He knew now that he couldn’t protect anybody; not his friends; not his family; not even himself. And as he sat there, the full realization of what his future had become, he cried.