Mute (Muted Trilogy Book 1) (22 page)

Jack had his laptop case slung over his shoulder, as usual, and one hand was at the back of his neck.

“It’s okay,” sent Jemma. “I told her.”

Jack approached the desk, and Cecily returned the tablet to its usual position.

As long as you make each other happy
, typed Cecily,
and I don’t have any slack to pick up around here, I have no issues with this.
She looked back and forth between Jack and Jemma, then nodded.
This is good. Thank you for telling me.

Jemma felt her cheeks heat slightly. She was glad she’d been able to avoid an outright lie, at least.

Of course
, typed Jemma.
That’s all I had for you, so if you don’t need anything from me, you can head home.

I’ll do that
, typed Cecily, patting Jemma on the arm and heading toward the staff room.

Jack looked around the room, then back at Jemma, resting his weight against the counter.

“Sorry I was all, you know,” sent Jack, “hanging back at first. We didn’t really talk again last night, and I thought we were probably good and still on track, but then when you just left a note and didn’t Talk at all through the day, I wasn’t sure. So when I came in and the two of you were looking serious, I didn’t know whether you’d decided to go with the dating story or a different one.”

“Dating really is the easiest and most plausible, though that’s not the only surprised look I’m gonna get, I’m sure,” sent Jemma. “I’m sorry I made you worry about what was going on,” she added. “I fell asleep earlier than usual, and I woke earlier, too. Figured you should get to sleep in if you could.”

“I appreciate that. I only got up a couple of hours ago. Did you go by the main library like you’d planned?”

Jemma nodded. “Got a camera, too. There will be two eventually, but I need to decide where to put this one before closing.” She put the box on the counter and opened it. “It can only be installed once, so I need to pick a spot that’ll work permanently.”

Jack fingered the part that looked like it would attach to either the side of the building or the overhang of the roof. “This has a swivel,” he sent, “but not an automatic one. You’ll be able to change the angle easy enough without getting anyone to come out here. Is there a spot that you could benefit from being able to rotate it?”

Jemma nodded. “The corner of the building might work. I’ll check when it slows down this afternoon.”

“Okay, sounds good.” Jack patted the counter, then grinned at her. “It’s kinda nice, not having to hide Talking to you.”

She smiled back. “I do like that.”

“Okay,” sent Jack, “I’ve gotta get to work, and I know you do, too. Let me know if you want any help when you’re looking at where to put the camera, either outside or watching the desk.”

“I will,” sent Jemma, opening some of the reports she liked to review at the start of her day. With a jaunty wave, Jack made his way upstairs and just out of sight.

Jemma finished her paperwork for the morning, stopping only twice to help patrons. When she was done, she pulled out her phone and stared at it.

“You’re sure you’re up for meeting my parents?” she sent Jack. “My mom’s on her lunch break, so this is a good time to talk to her about it.”

Jack sent a chuckle. “I’m up for it if you are.”

She sent back a rebellious feeling, almost a pout, and then a sigh. “I’m acting like a kid who doesn’t want to admit she sneaked the last cookie.”

“We all have our quirks,” he sent. “Yours doesn’t seem all that odd.” He paused. “Anything I can do to help make this easier?”

“Probably not,” she sent. “You’ve already made it easier than it might’ve been.” She stared at her phone again. “Are you available this Friday night? Get this out of the way?”

“Sure,” he sent. “I can do Friday.”

“All right. Thanks.”

Jemma opened the messaging app on her phone and composed a text, pressing send before she could change her mind.

Hey Mom. I promised you could meet Jack if anything changed with us. Can he come to dinner this Friday?

The reply was almost immediate.

What?!? Of course!! What happened? Tell me everything!! I can’t wait!

“We’re keeping details vague, right?” she sent Jack.

“That’s the plan. Is she asking for details already?” Amusement laced his tone.

“Of course,” sent Jemma, scanning the room again before working on her reply.

Not a lot to tell. We talked, and I think things have gotten to the point that you should meet him.

The pause before the reply was longer this time.

Okay. Well, I’m excited! I have to get back to work; students will be showing up any minute. Love ya!

Ditto
, wrote Jemma, and then she put her phone away.

Buzz.

She ran a hand through her hair, then pulled her phone back out of her pocket.

Does he have any food allergies?
her mom had sent.

Jemma relayed the question to Jack.

“Nope. I’ll eat anything.”

No allergies
, she wrote.
You can make whatever you want.

He likes desserts
, she added after a moment.

Thanks!

Jemma waited a minute before putting the phone away again, turning her mind back toward work as a patron approached looking for help.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:

Meeting

What About Them?

Here in America, as in many other developed countries, the majority of people have access to ways to help cope with their lack of voice.

But what about those who don’t?

In areas of the world without electricity or running water, never mind smartphones with text-to-voice capacity, most have resorted to their own improvised sign language. In some of these areas, donated white boards were abandoned or given to kids for drawing; in places like these, survival can be a priority over education, leading to high rates of illiteracy.

Music is more highly instrumental than before The Event, though singers do still perform for the few who can hear them telepathically.

In parts of our own country, too, we have areas of poverty and areas with high rates of illiteracy. Several charities and government initiatives have provided what they can, but there just aren’t a lot of options for people who cannot read, write, or talk. Again, these areas tend to develop their own forms of sign language, which often introduces communication barriers for those who step in to try to teach.

The blind face their own challenges, too. Though smartphones can compensate in some ways, reading the screen and the options, that isn’t much help for someone who can’t then speak a command. From the UK we have a smartphone designed a few years ago “for blind people, by blind people.” Thousands of these phones, which limit touchable options for easier navigation, have been brought into the US, adjusted to use haptic feedback and more large-button input than before The Event.

Now we’d like to hear from you. What challenges have you faced that our average reader might not have considered?

—Katie Brink, Staff Writer

It was five o’clock, and the library was starting to empty, as usual. After helping the surge of people checking out books so they could leave, Jemma sent a quick telepathic message to Jack.

“Can you watch the counter? I’m just going to peek outside, check that spot for the camera.”

“Sure,” he sent back.

Jemma glanced up at the balcony as he approached it, leaning casually against the railing so he could see.

“Holler if you need anything,” he added.

“I will,” she sent, going into the staff room, grabbing her keys, and heading outside.

It wasn’t yet dark, but the sun was hanging low near the horizon, just above the trees that filled in the spaces between man-made structures. This side of the building was shadowed, blocking the direct sunlight. She looked around, seeing nothing out of place, no movement, then walked to the back corner of the building. From there, she could see along the side where the trashcans rested, and she could turn and see the back door.

“This spot will work fine,” she sent Jack.

“Good,” he sent back. “I think someone’s about ready to check out.”

“Okay,” she sent. “I’m on my way back in.”

Jemma glanced along the side of the building once more, then turned toward the staff entrance, pausing when something caught her eye; on the ground near the building, where a layer of mud tended to build up after a rainstorm, was a footprint, a definite outline with no tread, a print like a dress shoe might make. She remembered the flash of person she’d seen the night before, and she frowned and went back inside.

“There’s a footprint,” she told Jack as she walked back to the circulation desk. “Just like everything else, it doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t tell us anything, and could still just be from a patron, but it probably means I really did see someone last night.”

“Did you doubt it?” Jack was watching from the balcony, an eyebrow raised, and Jemma shook her head before facing the approaching patron.

She smiled at the man as he reached the desk, scanning his card and then handing it back, scanning the books and sliding them to him along with their due date. The man nodded politely and then turned and left.

“No,” sent Jemma, turning her attention back to her conversation with Jack, “I didn’t doubt it, but it’s the same as how that news segment shook us both up. Sometimes something that could be proof, even for something you already believed in, it can be almost disorienting. I don’t know whether that makes any sense.”

“I think I know what you mean,” he sent. “Was it at least near the spot you wanted to put the camera? That’ll work a lot better for proof and for clues than a footprint.”

“Yeah, and it should be okay to have it installed there. The person installing it should be here in just a little while.”

“Do you want me to stay if he’s here past closing?” he sent. “I don’t know whether it’s a great idea for you to go out to your car alone.”

Jemma knew she would be able to ask the technician to walk her to her car, but that seemed to defeat some of the purpose of an escort, having a complete stranger accompany her alone through the dim parking lot.

“I’d like you to stay, yeah. Thank you,” Jemma sent.

“Of course,” he answered. “Now, tell me what to expect on Friday?”

***

Friday night, Jack and Jemma drove from the library to her parents’ house. They took separate vehicles, Jack following behind her so that he could leave early if he needed to.

“Dad’s been doing well all week,” Jack sent, “and I’ve got my phone on me, so there shouldn’t be a problem, and I can get back quickly enough if I need to. There’s a neighbor I usually ask to stay available, too, if Dad’s with a nurse at night.”

“I’m glad he’s doing well,” sent Jemma.

“Me, too,” sent Jack. “Oh, right, I forgot to ask; has anything come of the footage from the new security camera?”

“Not that I’m aware of. There’s someone who monitors everything at the city building, but I’m going to go in on Sunday and see whether they’ll let me watch for myself.” She took the final turn to her parents’ house. “Okay, the house is on the right in about a quarter mile.”

Jack sent a wave of acknowledgment. A minute later, they were parked, and Jemma got out of the car, not sure whether to smile or shake her head when she saw her mother was already outside and walking toward them. She turned to look at Jack, who was getting out of his car behind her, bottle of wine in his hand. He was dressed in a dark gray, button-up shirt and light blue jeans. He looked presentable, fancy, even, for the area, and ready to meet the parents. Jemma found herself making another silent plea that this night wouldn’t turn into a cheesy movie cliche.

She turned back to the house in time for her mother to wrap her in a hug. Carolyn pulled back, smiling widely at Jemma, then turned toward Jack expectantly. He held out his hand, and Carolyn shook it.

“Mom, this is Jack. Jack, this is Carolyn,” Jemma sent to the two of them, grateful she could Talk to both at once even if they couldn’t Talk to each other.

Jemma glanced at the house and saw her sister watching from a front window. Jill waved, grinning, when she saw Jemma notice her.

“Tell your mother I’m happy to meet her?” sent Jack, and Carolyn simultaneously expressed the same sentiment.

“You’re both happy to meet each other,” Jemma sent. “How about we go inside so we can make it easier to talk?”

The other two nodded, and they made their way to the house, Carolyn squeezing Jemma’s shoulder excitedly. Jill opened the door as they reached it, her cell phone in hand.

“So, you’re the infamous Jack?” her phone said for her. Jack looked at Jemma, eyebrow raised.

“I’m infamous, hmm?” he sent.

Jemma felt her cheeks heat, but before she could reply, Jill sent her a quick, mental aside.