SLEEPERS
by
Jacqueline Druga
SLEEPERS
By Jacqueline Druga
Copyright 2012 by Jacqueline Druga.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Thank you so much Rita for all your help with this one
Cover photo Courtesy of © Sergey Kamshylin - Fotolia.com
1. Insight
I embrace the night because the darkness brings a sense of comfort. When night falls there are no lights of any kind, not even the flicker of a candle. Nothing. A single lantern or even a small campfire can be seen for miles, so no one dares to ignite them. The only sources of illumination are the stars and the moon if the sky is clear enough. They cast an eerie blue upon the deadened streets. If you are smart, quiet, and stay hidden, then you’ll be safe and perhaps you can sleep. Never for long and never deeply. You know what is right outside your door. Then of course the daylight comes and the sun or even the bleakest of days allows you to see what has become of our world. When the sky is its bluest and the sun the brightest, everything is still gray.
I hate it.
During the day you are able to see every crack in the streets, burnt building, blood stained sidewalk and remnants of people who fought for their lives.
Give me the night. It’s quiet and it reminds me of the days when I was first married to Daniel. We were kids then and our biggest worry was how to get enough money to have our power restored, eating cold beans out of a can and laughing about it.
We eat from cans now, but we don’t laugh about it. We don’t make a sound. Some people, well, the few of us left, fear the night, cry themselves to sleep, drink to oblivion, anything to get through it. Not me. I just listen, rest once in a while and listen.
I know that the nights are the most dangerous.
I don’t care. I’ve gotten quite good at surviving the nights. I think it’s because I know it won’t be forever. It can’t be.
What happened to our world isn’t easily surmised.
It started with a bang and went downhill from there. Many attributed it to God. I didn’t. Because I refused to believe that God would be so cruel. No matter how horrible a race we had become, God would not inflict that on anyone. Especially the innocents who were taken first. It was an event labeled by so many as the Rapture.
It wasn’t God’s Rapture; it wasn’t what I had learned about in the Bible. While there were many events that did mirror those predicted in the Holy Word, the Rapture wasn’t one of them. It couldn’t have been.
It was just too horrible.
If God used the Rapture for his chosen and the special then the rest of us truly are doomed to a life of hell.
They outnumber us thousands to one. I remember the day when they didn’t, when we still had some semblance of control. When we all believed it would eventually turn in our favor. But that lasted a day.
Now we wait.
Wait and hope that eventually things will be better.
I know they will, at least for me. I’m almost home.
2. The Texts
Daniel needed a haircut. His curly light brown hair took on that ‘bushy’ Greg Brady look, requiring a baseball cap to keep it in control; that of course hung on the bed post. He placed it there when he went to sleep and grabbed it before he was even out of bed, a routine of his until he transformed from his winter look of Grizzly Adams to the clean shaven summer guy. I claimed it was laziness; he claimed that he needed all the help he could get to stay warm since he worked outside.
I didn’t want to get out of bed; who does on a Saturday morning? But our son Jeremy had a baseball game, and for the first time in two weeks the sun was shining. The game would be a go. Then again, it was the first weekend all year that our oldest son, Danny, wasn’t making it home from school, so there was still a sense of gloom for me.
Daniel slept and I didn’t want to wake him. With all the storms we had been experiencing, Daniel was putting in a lot of overtime with the power company. The night before was the first night in a long time we relaxed at home, staying up to all hours watching bad movies on cable. He passed out during a Bigfoot movie. Wanting a second drink for the evening, mid reach for the bottle of Jack Daniels on the nightstand, he turned his head and was out. He wasn’t an alcoholic by any means; in fact, he was a lightweight, always being responsible and letting me be the one who consumed a few too many when we were out. Although I believe there were ulterior motives to that one. When drinking, I became a huge flirt.
I reached across his thick body and shut off the alarm before it blared. I lightly kissed him once on that small space of skin between his eye and beard, and I slipped out of bed, trying not to wake him.
“What time do we have to leave, Chirp?” He called me ‘Chirp’ always, the nickname he gave me decades beforehand. I don’t even think he remembered my name is Mera.
“Not till ten, go back to sleep,” I said.
He breathed heavily and spoke with morning gruffness to his voice. “Wake me in enough time to have coffee. Okay?”
“Absolutely.”
I wanted to tell him to stay in bed, he needed his rest, but Daniel tried with everything he had not to miss a moment in their lives.
He loved his children more than life itself and proudly displayed their names in the form of a tattoo that read, Jessie, Danny and Jeremy on his right bicep.
The day I met Daniel I was pregnant with Jessie, but I didn’t know it. It was a stupid kid move, giving into my high school sweetheart just before he shipped out with the Army to be stationed in Germany. I knew I’d never see him again and never in the world dreamt I was with child.
Walking down the street, I paused to fix my shoe when ‘slam’, a hard hat fell not a foot from my leg landing on the sidewalk.
“Shit!” I heard his voice. “I am so sorry.” Within a few moments, Daniel was down that telephone pole, so apologetic. “Please, this is my third day on my own. Don’t tell anyone.”
“I’m okay, you know, in case you’re wondering. It didn’t hit me.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. Are you okay?”
I shook my head with a smile, told him I was fine and tried to walk away.
He stopped me, we talked, he went back to work, and the next day I saw him again.
Daniel had longer hair back then. Short on the side, they later named it a mullet. It looked cool on him. After all, he was the bad boy, an older man of 23 who rode a motorcycle and I was this naive girl of eighteen.
We spent a lot of time together, he actually was pretty sad when he met. He had lost his parents in a car accident and was still dealing with that tragedy.
We grew close, always together; then I realized about four weeks later, I was pregnant. I had to tell him. It wasn’t his because he and I hadn’t even reached that point.
While I saw him as this man, Daniel was only a kid. He wanted to stick by me, but I never gave him the chance to tell me that, I broke it off.
A couple weeks later when I told my parents, they were furious. What I didn’t know was my father went to the electric company, found Daniel and threatened to shoot him if he didn’t do right by me. That night Daniel was there with a ring.
I apologized to Daniel and told him I would tell my parents the baby wasn’t his. He wouldn’t hear it. As crazy as it sounded, Daniel said he loved me and three months later he and I were married.
We have never been apart. We never broke up, separated, and rarely fought. Daniel claims me and the kids were God’s gift to him; I say it was the other way around.
I put on my flip flops and
made my way down to the kitchen. I stopped first to check on Jeremy and give him that warning wake up.
“Is it raining?” my twelve year old son asked.
“No.”
“Sweet. Did Danny change his mind? Is he coming in?”
“No,” I said. “You know it’s his friend’s birthday.”
“Fine.” Jeremy pouted.
I laughed and prepared to bask in the quiet of the morning. My phone was charging on the counter. I made coffee and knew that soon enough two of the men in my life would be racing around the kitchen.
I poured my coffee, grabbed my phone, and looked at the single text message from my daughter. ‘I love you Mommy’. I replied and noticed she had sent it at four in the morning her time, seven my time. My daughter was all the way on the other side of the country at school in Washington. The mother in me was thinking about what she was doing up at that hour. But I knew she was responsible and there wasn’t trouble, there couldn’t be, she didn’t try to call.
Nothing from Danny. Not that I expected a text or call. That wasn’t my son. He transformed from a troublesome youth into a semi-obedient young man in his near two years at Carson Military Academy.
I remember when the judge . . . yes, the judge suggested it. Danny had gotten into yet another fight and was facing Juvenile center. I thought my son would scoff at the idea, but he didn’t. We tried hard to get him into Valley Forge, a mere twenty miles from our home, but his ‘record’ kept him from getting accepted.
I was grateful for grants and funding because there was no way we were able to afford the tuition. But every penny we spent on travel, supplies, and uniforms was worth it. Our son went from a fourteen-year-old troubled youth who faced a potential life behind bars to a respectful sixteen-year-old who used ‘ma’am’ and ‘sir’ in nearly every sentence.
Although he still got in little bits of trouble here and there, it was nothing like he used to.
So, children placed to the back of my mind, wanting to mentally find solitude, I settled into a game on my phone.
My peace lasted about a half an hour. Jeremy made his way into the kitchen, darted me a kiss then grabbed juice from the fridge.
“I’ll make you something to eat in a minute,” I told him.
“That’s cool. I’m going up to get dressed, go online.”
I nodded, but he was moving fast, brushing into Daniel as he flew from the kitchen.
Daniel got out a ‘morning’ then made his way directly to the coffee pot. “I’m thinking of getting the hair cut off today.”
“Really?” I asked. “It’s only May.”
“I know, but it’s so friggin’ hot. I was gonna wait a couple weeks so it was done before we went to pick up Jess, but . . .” He shrugged. “It’s itching.”
“Shave, too.”
Daniel laughed and joined me at the kitchen table.
Within moments, Jeremy called our names frantically as he raced to the kitchen. “Put on the TV and we have to call Jessie.” He flew to the kitchen television set. “Earthquake hit Seattle. Bad one.”
My heart dropped to my stomach. Seattle. The exact city in which my daughter resided. The images of destruction greeted us immediately as the television powered on. It had hit there an hour before hand, largest in history.
“Mom? It’s going straight to voice mail.” Jeremy didn’t hesitate trying to call her from my phone. My son was scared; I could hear it in his voice. “I’ll keep trying.”
Daniel returned to the kitchen with his phone and he groaned painfully, collapsing to the chair.
“Dan?”
“She sent me a text an hour ago.”
The text. The ‘I love you text’. How could it have slipped from my mind?
“She sent me one, too.” I said. “Did it say, ‘I love you’?”
Daniel shook his head, running his hand over his face and showing me his phone and his message from our daughter. His was different. His read, ‘Help me Daddy. I’m trapped.’
3. The Onset
Daniel had transformed instantaneously along with the feel of our home. He was level-headed and strong, yet I could see how concerned he was. Immediately he was barking out orders of what I had to do while making calls to local authorities, the Red Cross, emergency workers, the phone company to trace her phone.
We couldn’t get a flight out, so I had to pack the car. He was telling me and Jeremy what we had to get ready.
Danny had called in the middle of all that. I felt like I was a bit short to him, only repeating what Daniel told me to convey, “Stay put, we’ll get you in a couple hours.”
I was a basket case. My heart ached so badly that I could physically feel the pain in my chest. My poor daughter. How frightened she must have been; was she okay? For as fearful as I was, I felt she was. As a mother I felt it. Surely if my own flesh and blood had left the earth, then I would know.
But despite our best efforts we could not get through to authorities. Jeremy took to posting on a social network for anyone with family in Seattle to try to help. All of this occurred in the hour or so we were getting ready to leave. The plan was simple, get in the truck, grab Danny in Harrisburg and go to Seattle.
With each passing minute attempts grew futile. News of yet another quake hit the airwaves, this one in San Francisco. While not as bad as the Seattle earthquake, it left us all bewildered as to what was going on.
A small bag packed, we were minutes from walking out the door when my phone rang.
The call came from Jessie’s phone. One would think I’d rush to answer, but I didn’t. I froze. Instead of thinking my daughter was calling, I feared it was a police officer, doctor, neighbor, someone other than my daughter telling me the worst news.
“What the hell, Chirp.” Daniel snapped and grabbed the phone from my hand. “Jess!” He spoke rushed as he answered it.
The second I saw Daniel’s eyes close, I knew it was nothing other than a look of relief.
“Baby,” he said. “I can barely hear you. Yes. Yes.” He mouthed the words to me, ‘she’s fine’.
I broke. I broke in gratefulness, collapsing into emotions.
“Jessie, we love you. Stay put. Jess . . . stay put, baby. We’re coming out. We’ll be there . . . Jess.” Daniel scrunched his face, bringing the phone down away from him in a hard swoop against the air. “It died. She’s fine. Reception is bad. She’s on campus. They dug her out. That’s all I got.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t answer.”
“It’s okay.”
“No,” I cried. “It’s not. I was scared. I was . . .”
“It’s okay. She’s fine.” He pulled me close. “Let’s just take a breath.” He stepped back, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Feel a little more at ease and head on out. “
At that moment, that was when we both heard it. A double ‘thump’ above our heads.
Daniel stepped back head tilted and aimed his voice toward the stairs. “Jer, you all right?”
No answer.
“Honey,” I hollered. “Did you drop something?”
Still no answer.
“He probably has his headphones in,” I said.
Daniel didn’t wait to find out, he walked up the steps. “Jeremy. Answer me.”
Thinking, ‘he’s not hearing you, how can he answer?’ feeling better about Jessie, but still concerned, I turned to pick up a bag to take to the car. I didn’t dwell on what was transpiring upstairs. In my mind, Jeremy dropped something, was listening to music, and never heard us call. Never did I imagine I’d hear Daniel cry out, “Call 911!”
Every ounce of air escaped me and grabbing the phone, I flew up the stairs and into Jeremy’s room.
“Call them now!” Daniel ordered. “He’s having some sort of seizure.” He was on the floor holding Jeremy in an upright position. My son shook, his body convulsed, head going from side to side. A white thick liquid oozed from his nose and mouth, eyes rolled back to his head. His skin was an eerie gray.
> I muttered ‘oh my god’ and with hands shaking out of control, I dialed those three easy numbers.
Like midnight on New Year’s Eve, the recorded voice said that due to high volume, the call could not be completed. I didn’t waste any time. I dialed again.
Same thing.
“What’s wrong?” Daniel asked.
“Circuits are jammed.”
“Try the landline.”
I nodded and raced to the master bedroom, quickly racing through my mind what I would say. He wasn’t epileptic that we knew of. What was going on, I didn’t know. Arriving in the bedroom, I lifted the receiver and was greeted with a buzzing busy signal.
Screaming out a frustrated, ‘Fuck!’ I slammed down the phone, waited a second and lifted again.
The same thing.
Running back to Jeremy’s room, I tried my cell again. No luck.
Daniel looked up to me so lost. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t get through on either line.”
“Fuck it, we’ll drive him.” With a swoop of his arms under Jeremy, Daniel lifted our son as he stood and charged from the bedroom.
He wasn’t waiting on me. I had never seen my husband move as fast as when he bolted down the hall and to the staircase. I almost fell down the steps trying to keep up.
“Hold him in the back, I’ll drive,’ Daniel said, grabbing the front door.
I couldn’t speak, I was losing it. Right after we stepped outside, I made a dash around Daniel to the car. Figuring I’d open both doors, slide in the back, be ready for him to place Jeremy in my arms and then Daniel would get in and drive.
I did that, focused only on that task.
I slid in the back seat, turned my body, arms extended, fully expecting Daniel to be right there. But he wasn’t.
Daniel stood in the middle of the walkway, holding tight to our trembling son.
He just stood there staring out as if in shock.
Sleepers Page 1