The Seventh Day — Tara Brown

From the window I can see her. She looks like she did yesterday. Same Clothes. Same Hair. But today her face is calm, dead calm. All their faces are dead calm until one of us makes a noise. The noise wakes them and then it starts. Their heads jerk to the right three times rapidly as they stand in the most awkward way. That's when we run. That's when we hide. That's how we stay alive until The Seventh Day! Silence is survival!