The Few Part 3: Fear of Noise, Fear of Silence

John, Wendy, and the other parents walked together back to the group of children where they had left them at the corner of fifth street. As the parents, approached, the crowd of seated children stood up, almost as a unit, and scattered towards their parents. One of the twins ran up to John (He could not tell them apart in the dark), and began rambling, speaking of how he wished to join them, and that he would be thirteen in a few months, and that couldn't they just lie about his age and so on, until John held up his hand and said commandingly, "You will never kill," and began to walk forward to claim his two of the three children that had not gravitated to the group of parents.
The entire group, adults and children, reconvened before the Hunting Club building. Feigning interest, John listened to and, when pressured, joined conversations about the wonderful outcome of the "expedition", the sanctity of The Few, and the bravery of its leaders. The chatter was placid except for occasional, often heated arguments over whether it would have been more prudent to raid Blandart Lane instead of Woodwork Drive or whether the group was hypocritical in not raiding the building where The Courtesans lived, but the chatter melted into a cascade of applause as the same plump man who had welcomed them earlier ascended the steps of the club building and turned to face them.
"Congratulations," he began, eliciting another round of applause. "What we have accomplished tonight is a great victory for Sidewood." More applause echoed among the buildings. The cheers seemed to grow louder with each sentence, though John stood stubbornly silent through the whole address, unnoticed only because of the mass preoccupation with the man on the steps.
At the end of another sentence, the crowd erupted into chants of "Sam! Sam! Sam!" in rhythmic time, and John grabbed the two children he could find by the collar, and gestured to his wife to follow him home.

The four of them returned on foot to their decrepit, ranch-style house on Greenland Avenue, in the heart of Sidewood's suburbs. Here he lived among most of Sidewood's elite, though at the moment the subdivision was virtually deserted as it's residents were still downtown, cheering at Sam's references to the night's atrocities. John made a mental note to retrieve his remaining son after people began returning home.
A writer by trade, John had traveled across the country from Portland to write a book on the town, and had occupied the house vacated by an older couple who had moved to Atlanta to find work. The house itself had once been quite nice, though now the tan brick was overgrown with mold, the roof streaked and missing shingles, and the yard overgrown with clover and ivy that was beginning to find it's way out into the street.
Once home, he found Mike, the only one of the twins to come home with them, and asked him about his brother.
“How was Eddie tonight?”
Mike wrinkled his nose and squinted his eyes. “He said something about wanting to join the adults.”
John paused for a moment. He started to ask “And how about you?”, but Mike had already darted out of the room. John wandered into the living room, where his daughter Sierra sat in front of the window, where the stained yellowish-white carpet had made great progress towards coming off of the floor completely, and peered through the torn vinyl curtains at the crowd of blood-stained, cheering people meandering home in the darkness. Sierra looked up at him and said quietly, barely above a whisper, “Why do they do that?”
John closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “Sierra,” he said after a moment’s pause, “don’t worry about what they do.” He couldn’t make himself explain to her what was happening in Sidewood, partly for her own protection, and partly because he wasn’t quite sure himself what made people stay here. Certainly they could move away and find jobs elsewhere -- why the very people who had lived in his house had done just that. As long as they were here, of course, reasons didn’t matter much.
Unsatisfied, Sierra wandered out of the room, and John left to collect his remaining son. He walked outside and down the street, against the grain of the crowd, and towards downtown. As he walked past The Courtesans’ building, he heard a voice behind him. A tall woman with brown hair stood behind him, and as he turned around, she stepped toward him and spoke.
“You’re out late,” she said. “I saw you were leading the lines. First time in the lead?”
John was a little wary of talking to a Courtesan, but she was the most friendly person he’d met so far in Sidewood. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I’m John,” he said as he held out his hand for a handshake. To his surprise, she stepped beside him and held it. He didn’t stop her. She was friendly enough, and he needed the company.
“What brings you this way?” she asked. “I thought everybody went home already.”
“I’m looking for my son,” John said sullenly. He didn’t give any more details.
“Oh, the boy down by the courthouse is your son?” she asked with a spike of interest in her voice. “He looks just like you,” she gushed.
“Looks can be deceiving,” John muttered, and then immediately regretted saying it out loud. Anxious not to say anything else he might regret, he pulled his hand free of hers and ran off towards the courthouse.

Eddie was indeed in front of the courthouse, sitting on a rotted-out wooden bench next to a mildewed fountain that had long ago ceased operation, and talking to Sam. Not wanting to confront Sam directly, he hid around the corner and listened to them talk about the glory of the runs and listening to them heap praise on each other until there was a break in the conversation and John stepped onto the concrete by the fountain and tapped Eddie on the shoulder. When he turned around, John motioned to him to come, and began leading the way home.
As they walked, Eddie looked up at John and said “You don’t really care about us, do you?”
Taken aback by that bizarre comment, John stopped and stood silently for a moment before replying “I care about you. The rest of this town would be better off in hell.” He said it with a soft but hateful sharpness that left Eddie standing there, almost afraid to follow him the rest of the way home. They walked the rest of the way in silence.

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