My neighbor said they are coming. I don't believe him. He is a conspiracy theorist in everything he does. The mosquitoes are the super-evolved weapons of an enemy, he says, and soon they'll come at us with guns like nothing we've ever seen before. Funny thing. If they did come he wouldn't even get to say he told us so.
But the other neighbor across the way. She doesn't believe conspiracy theories. "Utter bunk," she says, "stuff made up by idle people who just want to get noticed."
They're coming and they're going to overpower us, he says. They're big, bigger than we think they are, he says they've got guns like nothing I'd believe. I said that sounds like your mosquitoes. He bushed his eyebrows together.
Don't be stupid, he said. These aren't mosquitoes. These are big. Big, kiddo, big.
I asked my other neighbor what she thought. She didn't say anything at all- funny, I thought, cause she always says something and I usually don't like what she says.
I put my things in a hiding place I know. Just in case he's right. I won't tell her that I did, though, because she'll sniff. Like I'm a little kid.
But sometimes I'm more afraid she won't sniff.
When are they coming, I said.
He laughed. Only they know. I didn't like his laugh.
She left during the night. I don't know where she went. I went to her house and it was empty. Just- empty. Like she'd gone to buy a loaf of bread, but I knew she was gone for good. She should have said goodbye.
I asked him where she went. He glanced around and said, don't worry about it. Probably went to see her kid in-in- wherever that kid lives. I believe him. She went to see her kid.
But why did she leave her book? That book she always reads. She read it to me once. It made me scared and happy and sad all at the same time. Nobody would leave a book like that on purpose.
I went to his house again to ask him about her book. No, he said. No one would leave a book like that. And he stopped. And he told me to quit thinking about it.
Now I know they are coming. She was wrong and he was right. I don't think he meant to be right. He doesn't like being right now.
Do you believe in God, he said. Yes, I said. Better not, kid. They'll tear that outa ya. The less you have to give them, the better.
How can you tear a belief? But he didn't tell me more.
They have come, I think. Nobody knows for sure, but sometimes when I'm in a noisy place I hear things. Voices.
Am I crazy? I asked him. He looked away.
The noisy places are where I hear them so I went down to the trains. The big one came in and I heard them. Loud.
We are coming, they said. Fear not, we are coming. They said fear not. Maybe I won't fear. I told him about it. He said yes, they're coming.
I went down to the trains again. The big one came in and I heard them. We will rescue you. Please hold on a little while longer. Rescue us from what? I said. The train stopped. I waited until the next one came but it wasn't big enough and all I heard was a little breath.
I told him about it. Don't do that, he said. They'll lie to you. But I liked their voices, I said. Voices like that don't lie. Don't count on it, he told me. The better the voice the more the lie. His voice is rough and sounds like teeth grinding.
The trains weren't coming in and I couldn't find anything loud. Maybe I didn't really hear them. I think I did though. I went to her house. It wasn't empty this time. Some stranger moved in. I asked her if she wanted that book. She said she threw it away. I asked why. She just looked at me.
The trains started back up. I went down. This time I heard more. We are coming. Fear not. We will rescue you. What do you want? I said. Your ears.
My ears? For what? To listen for us, They said. You know how to listen. Listen for us.
I did. I listened to the crickets in the street. They sounded like Them a little bit. The wheels in the street did too. I went to visit my neighbor. He didn't sound at all like Them.
You were right, I said. They are coming.
You know something, kid, he said. I used to wish somebody would say I was right. Now I hate it when they do.
His voice sounded like bones breaking. It made me sick.
I asked the new neighbor if she knew that they were coming. They. she said. No. I don't know what you're talking about. But she sounded like Them. Not as much as the crickets did but I could hear it.
Now look, They said. But I can't hear you well enough, I said. That doesn't matter. You'll keep on hearing us. Look for us. But how do I know what to look for, I said. You'll know.
I looked. I don't know what they look like but whatever it is I saw it in the walls. A face almost, but it wasn't a face. I saw it in the water and in the books at the bookstore and in the people I walked past. I even saw it in the mirror. I didn't see it in him though. I think he had a cold because his voice was thick and raspy and he looked ill. I asked him if he had heard Them yet. He shook his head.
This time I didn't go to the trains. I just went to a quiet placed and screamed as loud as I could. Smell for us, they said. Why I said. Just do it. So I did. It was easier than hearing and seeing. Everything smelled like Them. Except for him. He smelled old, like something dying. He didn't say anything. Just looked at me.
Taste for us. I will. I did. It was easy. Everything I ate tasted like Them. He probably didn't but I didn't try him.
Taste for us. Smell for us. Look for us. Listen for us. Feel for us. I did it all. The only thing that didn't have Them somewhere was him. His skin felt cold and un-there. He was fading I think. His voice was thin and his smell was gone and I could see right through him. I still don't know what he tasted like.
Do things for us, They said. I already am, I said. No, do real things. Speak for us. Walk for us. Do the things you do for us.
But why, I said. Don't ask why, They said. I went to his house and visited. He never looked at me. He didn't say anything. He just sat in his chair and stared at the ground, fading.
I took my things out of their place. He was wrong; I didn't need to be afraid.
Now what, I said. I do everything for you.
Do something for us, they said. I will, I said. I didn't know what they meant.
That man you speak to, they said. He's fading, dying; he's un-existing. Yes, I said. Can I help him. You can. How, I said.
They said kill for Us.