The Dying Fall

Chapter 8: The Undersound

Song for this chapter:

Chapter 8: The Undersound

The curfew chimes had rung nearly half an hour ago. Carrie had watched the neighbourhood lights wink out one by one from her bedroom window, and the orange glow of the streetlamps follow soon after, plunging the world outside into thick darkness. She had waited to be sure her mother hadn’t stirred at all from her room before she opened her bedroom door and cast the light from her torch, dimmed by the sleeve of her jumper, down the stairs. Carrie was used to sneaking out of the house but only during the day; she’d never done it at night and somehow the darkness seemed to amplify every step she took. The click of the front door closing behind her had sounded like the snap of a tree branch and she was sure it had echoed up the stairs to her mother’s room.

It had taken longer than Carrie had anticipated to make her way to the square and now she was worried she was going to arrive too late. She stopped for a moment by a wall on the edge of the square to listen for the Patrol. The theatre stood on the other side of the cobbled area and it would be quicker to cross through the middle, under the cobnut tree, than to follow the pavement around. But such a route would also leave her exposed to the view of any vehicle that happened to be on the road or parked up in a side alley. And the trouble with Patrol cars was that they were silent—slick, electric-powered machines that practically glided over the surface of the roads—you wouldn’t know they were there until you felt a stealthy current of air sliding past you. At least at night, there was the chance of seeing the headlights of the car first—hopefully before you were caught in them yourself.

After listening and looking for as long as her impatience would allow, Carrie made a dash across the cobbles to the cobnut tree. Barely pausing for a second under its branches, she made a second dash for the theatre and the iron gate at the alley that ran down one side of it. She was worried the gate would be locked, but it swung silently open at her touch and she slid through into the alleyway.

Dead leaves had drifted into piles along the narrow path and Carrie heard something scurrying under them as she trod carefully to the small yard at the back of the theatre. There were several tall recycling bins against the back wall of the yard, which was grown over with ivy. A rusty bistro chair and table were set up near the steps to the backdoors of the theatre. The doorway was in shadow and as Carrie hesitated by the bins, a shade seemed to detach itself from the darkness and beckon to her.

“Turn your torch off,” Nano said, his voice barely a whisper as Carrie approached the steps.

Carrie did as instructed and stopped a few feet away, feeling a little wary.

“I wasn’t sure you would come,” Nano said.

Carrie didn’t need to see his face to know he was feeling smug. “Just this once,” she clarified.

“You won’t regret it.”

“I hope not.”

“You won’t—I promise.”

Despite Carrie’s persistent reservations and a pervading anxiety that she was going to end up face to face with a Patrol officer, there was an infectious excitement in Nano’s manner that set her blood stirring with the same anticipation.

“The undersound’s not far from here,” Nano explained, “So stick close to me—unless you see the Patrol, in which case hide in the nearest shadow… and if you can’t hide, run.”

He picked up the bistro table, placed it in front of the bins, and used it as a step to climb onto them. Carrie climbed up after him and then they scrambled over the wall into another small yard. From there, Nano led the way down an alley, through a gate, right into another alleyway, and then into a narrow backstreet. It was so dark Carrie was sure Nano had to be relying on a sixth sense to guide him through the maze of streets and side roads. She had to stick virtually at his shoulder to not lose sight of his shadowy outline, and there were a number of times when she nearly tripped on broken paving slabs or a raised curb. It was hard not to be impressed by how fluidly Nano moved, barely pausing and making no more sound than a cat.

They couldn’t have travelled much more than a mile, but the journey soon began to feel interminable and Carrie was relieved when they arrived at a pair of large, electric steel gates. From the size of the gates and the space beyond them, Carrie guessed they’d arrived at an industrial site. The gates were rusted, with weeds and debris covering the ground around them, but one gate was open just enough to squeeze one person through at a time into the forecourt beyond.

As they crept past the carcass of an old truck, Carrie saw on the side of it the name and logo of a glass factory that had closed down several years ago at the cost of a lot of local jobs. The land was owned by the state now but no one knew yet what they were planning to do with it. A long low complex of buildings filled the area beyond the truck yard and Nano led them straight to one of the smaller buildings that was set a little way back from the rest. After skirting around one side of the building, they arrived at a fire exit. Nano knocked and it opened a few seconds later, spilling a dim light onto the concrete where they were standing. A very tall man with broad shoulders and a hard, round gut stood in the doorway. Nano slipped him a couple of notes and he stepped aside to let them in.

As the door closed behind them, Carrie found herself at the end of a long corridor, lit by a single, low-watt strip-light that ran along the floor. Ahead, there was light from a doorway on the left, and, when they reached this doorway, Carrie saw it led to a small room where two small screens were set up on a desk, one screen showing a black and white image of the outer door, and the other an image of the steel gates. A second security man, of a similar stature to the first, was sitting in front of the screens, eating a packet of peanuts.

Opposite this room was a heavy-looking door with an equally heavy-looking push-bar across it. Giving Carrie one of his cocky smiles, Nano gave the bar a shove and opened the door.

Carrie was hit simultaneously with both light—a blue-green strobing light that danced in irregular patterns before her eyes—and sound. It was a level of sound she had never encountered before: voluminous and pulsing, like she had stepped into her own bloodstream and could feel the booming of her bass heart as it pumped liquid life through her veins. As she followed Nano into the undersound, the sensation was very much like swimming in music. It was all around her: not just in her ears, but in her head, her throat, her bones; she was vibrating with it and for a moment she didn’t know whether she wanted to run away or dive in deeper.

Carrie’s gaze swept around the hall in a daze, taking in the closely-packed bodies that moved like a tide controlled by the music. The bluish-green lights flickered over the waves, transforming the bobbing forms from one second to the next, so that it was hard to distinguish individual figures. It took a few seconds for the melody of the playing track to reach Carrie’s memory and she realised it was a song she had heard a number of times on old buds she still owned. It was a favourite but she had never heard it like this before and she felt suddenly overwhelmed by its fullness—like she was meeting a loved one up close for the first time, after only knowing them from a distance all her life. She felt a pain in her chest and a lump rising in her throat but the feeling was intensely pleasant, like the relief of having an infected wound lanced.

Carrie knew immediately that coming to the undersound was a mistake. If she was ever going to have a chance of living a normal life, she should turn and leave right away. The longer she stood absorbing the music, the more she could feel herself fusing with it. She was a sponge, dipped in technicolour paint, and if anyone were to cut her open, they’d find a series of rainbows spreading inside. She could never be content with a monochrome life after this. The buds had chipped away at her will over several years, but ten seconds in the undersound had ruined her completely.

Nano smiled at her as he caught her eye—not his usual overconfident leer, but a smile of shared elation.

“I told you,” he said, raising his voice above the channels of sound. “You won’t regret it.” He took hold of her wrist. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people.”

Carrie found herself sucked into the crowd and weaving through its currents of hot,  sweaty flesh—shoulders, elbows and torsos bumping and sliding against her own as Nano pulled her right to the middle of the hall, where there was a raised platform. Giant speakers flanked the platform on either side and on top of it stood a horseshoe of desks covered in laptops and soundboards. In the centre of the horseshoe was a man in his thirties, wearing a pair of headphones and a faded red t-shirt that had dark patches down the front and under the arms. He grinned when he saw Nano and signalled for him to come up onto the platform.

Moving round to the back of the platform, Nano and Carrie stepped up behind the horseshoe of desks and waited whilst the man in the red t-shirt tapped on one of the laptops and adjusted the switches on a soundboard. The track that had been playing transitioned smoothly into a new song and the movement of the crowd transformed too, as if wired up to the dials and switches of the sound desk. The man in the red t-shirt turned from his equipment, removing his headphones and giving Nano and Carrie another huge smile.

“Nano, mate!” he exclaimed, squeezing Nano’s arm. “I’ve got the sweetest sampler for you later. Dryce thinks it’s going to be a big hit—it’s already selling well in the northern regions.”

“Sounds good,” Nano replied. “Gubbs, this is Carrie.”

Gubbs offered Carrie his hand and she took it, noticing the Eco-Corps tattoo on his forearm. 

“Nice to meet you, Carrie.”

“Gubbs is one of the best undersound mixers in the region,” Nano explained. “This is Carrie’s first undersound, Gubbs,” he added.

Gubbs raised his eyebrows as he released Carrie’s hand. “I better make sure it’s not your last,” he said. “Why don’t you choose a track for the set?” He beckoned Carrie over to a laptop.

Carrie glanced quickly at Nano and then joined Gubbs at the desk.

“Here you go,” Gubbs said. “Have a scroll and pick out a tune.”

Carrie leant over the laptop and stared at the screen. Here, right at her fingertips was a whole library of tracks: not just hundreds or thousands of them, but hundreds of thousands. She swore to herself and tried to calm her inner excitement. She wasn’t sure if Gubbs heard her, or simply registered the stunned look on her face, but he patted her sympathetically on her shoulder and nodded, as if in agreement.

There was a search bar to locate tracks by genre so Carrie selected ROCK and then scrolled the options until she found one she had on a dud bud at home and had been missing desperately since it ran out of charge ten months ago.

Gubbs uttered an approving “Mmmyeah,” over her shoulder. “I can work that in nicely.”

“What did you go for?” Nano asked as Carrie shuffled back to him.

“You’ll have to wait to find out.”

“You gonna be here tomorrow, Nano?” Gubbs asked. “It’s the last night before we pack up.”

“Probably,” Nano replied.

“I wish we could get some permanent digs,” Gubbs said with a wry expression. “It’s a pain having to move all the time.” He put his headphones back on, winked at Carrie and turned back to the sound desk.

“How long does the undersound stay in one place?” Carrie asked Nano as she followed him off the platform.

“Two or three nights,” Nano said, cupping Carrie’s elbow with his hand as he guided her through the dancers to the back of the hall. “It’s a pain having to find new locations and soundproof them, but it’s too risky to stay in one place any longer than that.”

A new track came through the speakers, one with a heavy beat, and since it was difficult to shout over the music, Carrie and Nano said nothing further until they reached another platform at the back of the hall where there was a makeshift bar. The air in the hall was stifling and as they reached the bar, Nano took off his jacket and jumper. Carrie copied him, feeling a strand of sweat trickling down her breastbone as she tied her jumper about her waist.

“What do you want to drink?” Nano asked as he leant on the bar next to Carrie. “The alcohol is nasty but pretty cheap. Or there’s flavoured water.”

“I’ll have a water.”

“Wise choice.”

Nano placed their order and Carrie scanned the crowd around them, watching every soul in the place move with the rhythm of the music. Even her own body was shifting on the balls of her feet to the beat, and, beside her, Nano was lightly bouncing on his elbows as one hand tapped the bar.

As the barman passed them their drinks in two tall glasses, a voice nearby called “Nano!” and a tall woman in her twenties, with red, shoulder-length hair and a pierced eyebrow glided smoothly towards them.

“Hey, Nano!” she exclaimed, throwing her arm around Nano’s neck in a boisterous embrace. “Rumour has it you nearly got your guts spilled the other day.”

“It’s always the good news that travels fast,” Nano replied as his friend released him and leant one arm on his shoulder.

“Dryce was looking for you earlier,” she said. Her voice had a husky quality to it that gave her air of confidence a seductive edge.

Nano grimaced. “He’s here already?”

“Arrived half-an-hour ago. He’s down the corridor with some friends—wants you to pop in.” The woman’s gaze turned to Carrie with friendly curiosity. “Going to introduce us?”

“Rox, this is Carrie. Carrie, this is Rox.”

Rox tilted her head to one side as she looked at Carrie. “You seem familiar.”

“Carrie is Savannah’s sister,” Nano said.

Rox’s eyes widened a little and then nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Carrie,” she said, before sliding her arm off Nano’s shoulder and easing it through Carrie’s arm. “Come on, let’s grab a seat.” She tugged gently on Carrie’s arm. “Nano can find us later.”

Nano gave Rox a mild scowl and then shot Carrie a reassuring smile. “I won’t be long.”

Carrie watched Nano disappear into the dancing crowd before Rox led her along the platform to a bench, where several people of their age were lounging. Rox wriggled them both easily into a space and then crossed her legs on the bench and half-turned to face Carrie.

“Have you been to an undersound before?” she asked.

“No.”

“How do you like it?”

Carrie gazed out over the hall, wondering whether it was even possible to articulate how the lights, the people and the music made her feel as if she had lost and gained her life at the same time.

“It’s so…it’s just…” she attempted and then gestured helplessly. “I didn’t know it would be like this.”

“Insane, isn’t it?” Rox agreed. “Who knew there were this many music addicts in the region?”

“How long have you been going to undersounds?”

“Too long. Undersounds are harder to give up than buds—not that I’ve ever tried to give up either.” Rox half-closed her eyes and tilted her head back, as if allowing the pulsing air to wash over her. “The music’s not just in your head—your whole being gets to enjoy it—singing, moving…” She jiggled her shoulders in a sultry movement and then laughed, opened her eyes and smiled at Carrie. “And you’re not alone in it—it’s like being part of something bigger than yourself, something to be shared—like being part of one body.”

“Did you know Savannah?” Carrie asked.

Rox shook her head. “I saw her around a couple of times and I knew she’d gone to school with Nano but I never actually met her. We were all shocked by what happened. I think it affected Nano more than he’d care to admit.”

Carrie was perplexed. “Nano? Why?” she asked.

“They were classmates,” Rox replied, her gaze full of sincerity but not the dutiful pity that usually made Carrie feel cold inside. “And he sold Savannah her highs—including the one she was on when they caught her.”

Carrie wasn’t sure what to make of this revelation. It had never occurred to her that Nano should feel any guilt over Savannah’s death. As far as she was concerned, the blame for Savannah’s death lay with the Patrol and Savannah herself. Her sister had known what she was doing—no one had made her take the risks she had, and no one had made her choose death rather than a life of silence. Carrie knew that if she stepped out of the undersound right now and found herself face to face with a Patrol officer, she wouldn’t blame Nano; she’d blame herself. She knew the risks but she ran them anyway.

Carrie stared at the undersound crowd for a moment, wondering how it was possible that so many people could share the same madness.

“Do you get your buds from Nano?” she asked Rox.

Rox laughed. “No—I get my own buds.”

“You work for Dryce?”

“I work at the Distribution Centre,” Rox replied pointedly. “But sometimes I help Dryce out in my spare time.” She nudged Carrie with her elbow. “Come on, if you want the full undersound experience you have to get on the Floor.”

“On the what?” Carrie asked; but Rox was already up, backing across the platform and crooking her finger in a beckoning manner.

Leaving her jacket, jumper and drink on the bench, Carrie squeezed through the mill of people on the platform and caught up with Rox as she stepped down onto the main floor. Rox gave her a wink over her shoulder and ploughed through the dancers until they were in the middle of the surging crowd and Carrie could feel the bass pushing solidly through her chest. Rox was already moving, her hips swaying, arms raised above her head. A ROCK number was thrumming out of the speakers and Carrie could feel her blood rushing an alarming level of adrenaline through her system. For a moment, she stood stock still, feeling like a creature thrown into an alien environment, or an animal released into the wild after being raised in captivity: the instincts were there, her body wanted to move, every muscle yearned for emancipation, but her brain was telling her it wasn’t safe.

Someone next to Carrie bumped against her arm and she shifted away, only to collide with someone else’s hip. Rox took her arm and pulled her closer.

“It’s okay!” she shouted over the music. “Just go with it and you’ll fall into sync—you won’t get battered then!”

Rox kept her hand on Carrie’s arm and the relaxed touch seemed to connect Carrie to the loose movement of Rox’s body. Carrie felt her shoulders and hips start to bounce as they responded to the beat. Gradually, every muscle seemed to find a natural reflex as the nuances of the music courted her body. It didn’t feel like dancing to the music, but with it, in some sort of symbiotic relationship. She didn’t just need the music to move her—it needed her to move, to acknowledge the power of its existence with her whole being. As one track melded into another, Carrie felt as if the only way she would ever stop moving was if the music stopped first. And as she allowed her gaze to skim over the dancers around her, she realised that every single one of them was dancing with the same purpose—as if exorcising some sort of  common demon, purging a collective sickness from their blood.

A hand on Carrie’s shoulder nearly jolted her out of her trance and she turned to see Nano looking down at her with one of his obnoxious grins.

“Nice moves,” he teased.

Carrie attempted a scowl but her mood was too absorbed in the music for it to carry much weight. Nano smirked and leant in to say something in Rox’s ear. Carrie let the music catch her up again until a face in the crowd caught her attention and an arm lifted and waved vigorously at her. Carrie saw her name mouthed as a girl snaked through the dancers towards her and grabbed her arm.

“Carrie!” she exclaimed. “It’s Meg! Meg Conners, from school…”

As soon as Carrie began to nod with recognition, Meg threw both arms around Carrie’s neck and hugged her like they had been best friends. Carrie had to bend her knees to manage the hug and she lightly placed one hand on Mag’s shoulder blade, partly to return the gesture, but mostly to keep her balance. Meg had sat across the aisle from her in most of her classes at school and they’d had a few friends in common, though they had never been particularly close friends themselves. Not that Carrie had really had any close friends in her final year at school.

Meg had a sizzling energy, as if she was wired into her own electrical current, and a subversive intelligence tuned more to finding loopholes in the rules and talking herself out of trouble than academic excellence. She released Carrie from her embrace and beamed up at her. Her dark brown hair, which had always been tied back in a long braid at school, was now cut to shoulder length and crimped; but her eyes, which were large and dark, and circled by thick lashes, still had the same mischievous, childish wonderment Carrie remembered well.

“I see you getting off the bus sometimes, when I’m on my way to work,” Meg said. “Are you still working at the Plant?”

“Yes,” Carrie replied, straining her voice to be heard. “Where are you?”

Meg scrunched up her nose. “I’m a cleaner—Mr Harvey will be so proud! He always said I’d end up scrubbing toilets.” She laughed. “Honestly can’t see how it’s worse than sitting in an office all day—I can’t listen to buds when I’ve got to answer phones or attend meetings, can I?”

“You listen to buds at work?”

“Sure.” Meg shrugged casually. “It’s not like there’s anyone around—everyone’s gone home and it’s just me with an entire floor to myself. Who did you come with?”

Carrie looked around at where Rox and Nano were dancing, sweat at their hairlines, faces alight, their bodies turned close to each other, heads leaning in momentarily as if they were sharing a private thought. For a second, their casual intimacy made Carrie long for Savannah beside her, sharing the same moment of freedom, the same rhythm, the same song. And then, as the track changed, Nano caught her eye and pointed in the air to direct her attention to the new tune. Then he pointed directly at Carrie and nodded as he mouthed “Yours!”.

Carrie smiled and nodded back.

“Nano!” Meg declared. “Just the  person I’ve been looking for!” She winked at Nano as he noticed her and he winked back.

“Hey, Meg.”

“Got any gear on you this evening?” Meg asked, sliding closer to him.

Nano glance briefly at Carrie as he shook his head.

“Bullshit!” Meg insisted. “You always have gear on you. Come on, I’ve got enough cash, I swear.”

“All right,” Nano conceded, “Catch me at the end.”

Meg blew him a kiss. “Thank you!” She turned back to Carrie. “We should catch up properly—where do you live?”

“Batisell Street.”

“I’m on Republic. You should come round one evening—we can catch up, share a high and not talk about how the world sucks.” Meg didn’t wait for Carrie to accept or reject her offer, but gave her another, quick embrace and then slipped into the crowd and out of sight.

Carrie wasn’t sure how long she was on the dancefloor, but, eventually, Nano touched her on the arm and signalled in the direction of the bar. Whilst they were waiting for their drinks, Gubbs’s voice came over the speakers.

“Right, junkies, here’s what you’ve been waiting for—a brand new high brought to you from the artist Forevahigh… if only we could be! Prepare for a hit you’re never going to get enough of…”

As his voice faded away a SYNTH track filled the space. Nano nudged Carrie with his elbow and handed her a drink as she leant on the bar and let the melody drift over and through her. There was something about hearing a track for the first time that stilled her both internally and externally.

When the track came to an end, Nano pushed away from the bar. “C’mon…”

Taking up her drink, Carrie followed Nano across the hall to the exit. They went out into the corridor and rested against the concrete wall a little way up from the undersound entrance, letting the cold air settle on their hot skin and fill their burdened lungs.

“That’s better,” Nano breathed, putting his hands in his pockets and bracing one foot against the wall behind him.

“Do you know everyone here?” Carrie asked as she pressed into the cold touch of the concrete at her back.

“Not everyone.”

“That last song Gubbs played,” Carrie said cautiously, “When he said it was brand new…?”

She paused and Nano smiled.

“He means it’s newly produced,” Nano confirmed.

“So, someone created it recently?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“How do you think tracks are made?” Unexpectedly, Nano wasn’t being patronising.

“I don’t know,” Carrie replied. “How does anyone get hold of that kind of equipment?”

“With enough money and the right contacts, you can get hold of anything,” Nano said flippantly. “You only need a computer or two and the right software to create a track.”

Carrie thought of all the computers that came through the disassembly line. If only there was a way to smuggle one of those out of the Plant. She could do it component by component, but it would take an unbearably long time.

The door to the undersound opened and a group of three people stepped out into the corridor, laughing and rocking against each other as they zipped up their jackets and headed to the exit.

“Is Rox a dealer?” Carrie asked.

Nano snorted. “No. Why? Are you thinking of leaving me?”

“She works for Dryce though?”

“Rox compiles and updates the buds,” Nano replied. “She makes sure we’ve got enough DRUMNBASS or JAZZ for the demand. She’s got a good ear for putting together compilations.”

“Dryce must make a lot of money.”

“I couldn’t say.”

“The Patrol must know what he does—how come they don’t shut him down?”

“I couldn’t say.”

The hall door opened again and Carrie watched as two people snuck out and hurried to the exit.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“The undersound is wrapping up,” Nano said. “People start leaving now so they don’t get held up in the queue. In about fifteen minutes there will be a line of people in this corridor waiting to be let out. The doorman can only let them go a few at a time—a flood of people hitting the streets would definitely get noticed.”

Carrie shivered, thinking of the journey she had to make home, sneaking through the dark streets, hoping to not get caught by a night patrol.

“I’ve got to grab my jacket from the office and catch a couple of people, and then I’ll see you home,” Nano said.

Carrie imagined ‘catching people’ meant making a few quick deals. “I know my way from here,” she replied.

“I know—but I’m going to see you to the theatre. We have an exchange to make in the morning and I want to be sure you turn up.”

“I’ve got to get my stuff,” Carrie said, gesturing towards the hall door.

“I’ll come and find you.”

Nano pushed himself away from the wall and headed up the corridor to another door. He knocked and was immediately admitted. Carrie waited as another three or four people came out of the undersound, and then went inside to pick up her jumper and jacket. The music was still playing and the dancefloor was still full but the bar ad taken last orders and the barman was packing away. Fetching her belongs from the bench where she’d left them, Carrie tried not to think about what would happen if her mother caught her sneaking back home. Part of her was tempted to not go home at all; the idea of creeping back into her rigidly silent house was almost unbearable. Her only consolation was the one working bud, hidden in her green cloth bag amongst scraps from the Plant, and Savannah’s journal, stuffed under her mattress.

As Carrie pulled on her jacket, she spotted Nano in the crowd, making an exchange with Meg. Carrie wondered if there was ever a time Nano wasn’t doing a deal with someone. She lost sight of him as she dropped onto the dancefloor but before she had got halfway through the crowd, Nano appeared next to her, placed a hand on her back and directed her to the back of the mixer’s platform.

“One sec…” he said in her ear, before stepping up onto the platform and speaking briefly to Gubbs.

When he stepped back down from the platform, he took Carrie’s hand and led her to the hall door. There were already about twenty people lined up in the corridor, waiting to be let out of the building. Although a few of them were in pairs, most seemed to be lone attendees, heading back to lives where they were probably the only addict in their household or social circle.

Nano cut to the front of the queue and the doorman let them out into the eerily silent grounds of the factory. Carrie’s ears and blood were still thumping with the heartbeat of the undersound but she still suddenly felt like a body disconnected from its soul. With only the sound of their own strained breathing as a soundtrack, they slipped out of the steel gates and into the empty streets, scurrying from one dark corner to another.

They hadn’t gone far when the white beams of headlights swung into the road they were crossing. They dived into an alleyway and held their breath as the sleek form of a Patrol car crawled slowly past. For what seemed an age, they waited to be sure it wasn’t coming back and then crept out of the alley and along to the next side road. Turning into the side road, they stopped again in the alcove of a dark doorway.

“That was close,” Carrie breathed.

Nano sniggered a little but Carrie could hear the slight tremble of his breath.

“You should go home,” Carrie said. “I’m good from here.”

Nano hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Want to take a bud with you for good luck?”

“Is it free?”

“Don’t be daft.”

“Then, no.”

There was a brief pause and Carrie became acutely aware of how vulnerable they were, standing in the shallow alcove, a waiting target to any light that might suddenly fall on them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Nano said.

“Yes.”

Without further comment, Nano slipped out of the doorway and back the way they had come. Carrie waited for a minute, settling back into the familiarity of being on her own. Surprisingly, now that Nano had gone, she felt less on edge and more in control.

It took her a while to work her way back to the square and from there to her house. As she hurried down her street towards her own front door, Carrie felt a surge of anxiety. It was with trembling hands that she let herself into the hall and carefully closed the door behind her. Forcing herself to move slowly, rather than dash up the stairs as was her inclination, Carrie ascended the stairs and paused on the landing to check there was no light coming from her mother’s bedroom door or her own. In the few seconds that she waited, the house had never seemed more still nor so full of a lack of sound. This is probably what death is like, Carrie thought: no sight, no sound, just a pure, palpable silence.

When she began moving again, even her tread sounded muted, like she was stepping on the quiet. Closing her bedroom door behind her, Carrie changed as fast as she could into her nightwear and tumbled into bed, pulling the covers over her head and listening to the uncertain thudding of her heart. She closed her eyes, and, although all the world around her seemed dead still, inside her lingered the ghost of the undersound: all music and light—the very beat of her life.

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Next: Chapter 9—Pianos & Pat-downs

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Author’s Notes:

Carrie finding her tribe.

I loved writing this chapter.

Chapter 9: Pianos & Pat-downs, coming next weekend.

PJ