Somewhere Quiet Plot Summary の小説・ストーリー

The panic eases, piece by piece, until her body goes slack against her mother’s chest. Quiet returns. On the surface, the outcome is perfect. But Elia doesn’t sleep. She lies still, staring at the ceiling, fingers clutching the edge of the blanket as if anchoring herself to the world. When her mother asks what’s wrong, her voice is barely a whisper. “It stopped.” Her mother smooths her hair. “What stopped, baby?” “The quiet,” Elia says. “It didn’t finish.” That’s the moment Riven notices. Not the scream — those happen sometimes, even now.

It was Fiona's house. We drove out to the town around noon. Instead of being calm and quiet like it usually was, the place was packed with people. Men and women, both young and old, were all heading in the same direction. Thankfully, we were in a squad car. Once people saw the flashing lights, they moved aside and let us through. Because of that, we quickly made it to Fiona's house. From inside her home came loud shouting mixed with a woman's sharp, painful screams. I turned on my body cam and got out of the car. None of the other units had arrived yet.

He hesitated, looking thrown. Then, softly, "Babe... did you pick up my phone this morning?" His brow creased. Waiting. Watching. The longer I said nothing, the more nervous he got. "What did you hear?" I looked away, drained. "Nothing. Your phone was across the room. I knocked it off by accident." He exhaled, all relieved, and tucked the blanket around me like everything was fine. Then, real quiet, he asked, "If our baby doesn't make it... could we adopt?"

“Anything on the wire?” McCall shook his head slow, voice rough. “Nada. Too damn quiet.” Hammer exhaled, breath fogging faint, coffee cooling fast in his hand. Quiet wasn’t peace—it was the calm before the crash. He’d felt it before—too many times—and it always ended bloody. The room hummed low—radios crackling, boots scuffing, a rifle clanking as someone loaded up. ***** ****** ****** ******* **** *** Miles off, in a forgotten corner of the city, Catalina leaned back in a leather chair, the warehouse around her a cave of shadows and noise.

The Quiet Chamber turned out to be a round room with thick stone walls and a small window overlooking the mountains behind the city. “I’ll wait outside the door, Luna,” Dren said before closing the heavy stone door. Silence fell instantly. The music and cheers from the amphitheatre vanished, leaving only the soft breathing of my baby. I sat on a cushioned wooden chair in the corner and began feeding him. For a moment, everything felt peaceful. But just as my baby began to calm down, a strange sound broke through the stillness. It was exactly like a beast’s deep roar—so low I felt it in my ribs.

Present and quiet and not making it into anything beyond what it was. The room. The grey light. Her breathing evening out again after the news settled. Both of us still here. **TO BE CONTINUED...** ---

Someone laughed. Someone said goodbye. Eventually, the house fell silent. Nate remained awake. He hadn't moved much. He sat on the edge of the bed staring at his phone. A message from Micah appeared. Micah: You okay? Nate typed: Nate: Yeah. He wasn't. But he didn't know how to explain that. Another hour passed. Then came a knock. Three quiet taps. Nate froze. He knew who it was. He stood slowly. Another knock.

This weekend. He had replied: I'll drive. She had replied: obviously. --- The journey was quieter than the first time. Not the managed quiet of two people carefully not discussing something — that particular tension had dissolved in a hospital room and a kitchen and two weeks of morning coffee and memory returning in pieces. This was the comfortable quiet of two people who knew each other well enough to not need to fill the space. Sophie had the window, the way she always did, watching the landscape change as London fell away behind them, and Julian had the road, and occasionally one of them said something and the other answered, and between the sayings the silence was simply the silence of

“Erm . . . probably. Usually these beings can’t . . . I guess you’d say manifest here in our world. But they can sometimes enter it through Quiet Places like the forest, and we can even leave this world if we want to, and if we know how.” “So these Quiet Places, they’re like a portal or something?” “More like a place where a portal can be opened. It’s because they’re very old. They haven’t changed in eons, and they’re the parts of our world that came into existence first, the bits that everything else grew from.” “Is that strictly scientific?” “I don’t think so. Matthew was more of a mystic than a scientist.” “And he put all this in his paper, that’s where you read it, right?”

VENUS The drive home was quiet. Not the sharp, suffocating quiet that follows an argument. Not the kind that dares you to speak first. This silence didn’t ask for anything at all. It simply existed, settled between us like something already agreed upon. The tires whispered against asphalt. The city blurred past the tinted windows, distant and irrelevant. George sat beside me, small hands folded in his lap, eyes trained on the passing shapes outside. He wasn’t asleep, just withdrawn, like he’d tucked himself somewhere safe inside his own head.