Sleepers

by Jacqueline Druga

  Michael nodded.

  Danny’s excitedly proclaimed. “Dude, that was really smart.”

  Michael chuckled. “Thank you . . . dude. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He turned. “I’ll prepare a meal. I’m sure you folks are hungry.”

  I stammered out an attention grabbing, ‘um’, it caught his attention and he stopped. “You know what? As much as I appreciate your hospitality and generosity, I don’t want to put you out . . .”

  “It’s not,” he said.

  “We have food.” I noticed the moment I spewed forth those words that all eyes were upon me. Then replaying the deliverance of those words in my mind, I realized I dealt them to the good reverend in a short manner. “I mean . . . we have food so please save yours.”

  Still it didn’t sound good, and really I didn’t care. Maybe it was just me, probably, but I was paranoid. What if the reason no one was at the church was because the reverend had fed them and poisoned them all. “And…” I added. “I would feel much better if we still hung the black cloths over the window. We haven’t rested in days.”

  “I told you. …”

  “I know what you told us.”

  Was I that bad? Beck stepped forward toward me speaking softly, “Mera. He’s trying to be nice.”

  “It’s okay,” Michael waved out his hand and moved in my direction. “She doesn’t trust me.”

  I stared at him, examining his face. My lips pursed as I sought the right words to say. “It’s just that …” Think, I told myself, think before you speak. “Why did you stay?”

  “Where else was I to go?” he asked.

  “Family.”

  “I have none,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, this is God’s house; I do God’s work. After all, this is all part of God’s end.”

  I laughed.

  “You don’t believe that?” he asked.

  “Not in the least.” I shook my head.

  “But the Rapture . . .”

  “That wasn’t the Rapture.” I argued. “Did you see them? Did you see the children that were supposedly Raptured?”

  Michael lowered is head some with a soft, ‘yes’.

  “So you saw the suffering? You saw the hell.” I stated. “Why in the world would God want them to endure something like that? Why would he put an innocent child through that?”

  “I believe they didn’t feel anything,” Michael said. “They were taken to be spared from all this. The Sleepers, the destruction. God wants . . .”

  “Oh.” With a wave of my hand and a scoff, I cut off his words. “God can suck my left toe for all I care.”

  Everyone groaned except Alex. His reaction was priceless. “Oh, hey, now, come on. That offended even me. Easy.”

  “Alex.” I curled a lip. “Please. You dropped the f-bomb in God’s house.”

  “Mom,” Danny took hold of my arm. “Maybe you’re tired. You’re giving this guy a really hard time for nothing.”

  Michael lifted his head. “No, let her go. People get confused about what they don’t understand.”

  “And you do understand?” I asked.

  “I think so.” He nodded.

  “Then explain the Sleepers. Are they some sort of Rapture gone wrong?”

  Michael shook his head. “I believe they are serving a purgatory on earth.”

  “What about us?” Absolutely I came across as badgering him, but he came across to me as confident in knowing all the answers. If he had them, I wanted to know.

  Michael answered without missing a beat. “We could be part of the 144,000 that are chosen or left behind to endure this. Or . . . we could have been blessed and spared purgatory on earth.”

  “Please,” I chuckled. “I wasn’t a bad person, but that good? And what about him?” I swung a pointing finger at Alex. “Do you really think he looks like he earned being spared purgatory?”

  “Hey. Quit picking on me,” Alex defended.

  “She’s angry,” Michael said. “And hurting.”

  “I am,” I said. “I am so angry. I watched my son die a horrendous death. I have a daughter out there somewhere. My husband, who was a better man than I was a woman, turned into one of those things. If God was all that powerful, why didn’t he blow us up? End it. No, God didn’t do this. He didn’t Rapture the children to save them from hell on earth. If He did, then he made a mistake.”

  “God has a plan. He doesn’t make mistakes.”

  “Really?” I said, inching to the pew and lifted the basket. “If God saved all the children and doesn’t make mistakes, then explain him.” I showed the basket with Phoenix to Michael. “Because He forgot one.”

  ****

  Reverend Michael or Pastor Mike as everyone else started calling him, was thrown. His entire theory on everything that occurred to the world was skewed with the presence of Phoenix.

  He was rethinking, I could tell. He didn’t say anything, but he was quiet over dinner and then buried his head into The Bible.

  He led a prayer after dinner in which I declined participation. I just wasn’t feeling it. I was glad that Bill was an atheist because he went with me on my exploration of the small church.

  We had passed Michael’s small office which was located off the lounge behind the sanctuary but were more focused on the cafeteria downstairs. Both he and I wanted to have a look. It was nothing spectacular. Our exploration took only a few minutes.

  On the way back to join the others, Bill went into Michael’s office. I told him not to, that it was Michael’s personal space. And I planned on scolding him further until I heard him whisper out in awe, “oh wow.’

  Admittedly my curiosity got the best of me and I joined him.

  He was seated behind Michael’s desk; a large scrap book was before him. “Guess this was the last family member he had. Or rather was from the last family member.”

  I looked over Bill’s shoulder. He had opened the cover. Inside was a note in a woman’s handwriting. It simply said, “Michael I am so proud of you. I love you. Mom.’ Clipped to that was a prayer card, the type you get from a funeral home.

  Bill lifted it. “His mother. She died last year. She must have made this for him. Look at this all, Mera.”

  I only caught a glimpse. The opening was a newspaper article and a picture of Michael and an older woman. I closed the scrapbook. “Bill, it’s his. It’s not cool to look without permission.”

  Bill nodded. “You’re right. But some of these headlines . . .” He took a second to read, then stopped. He closed the cover. “You’re right. Let’s join the others.”

  We did.

  The night wound down. Alex took his watch around midnight after catching a few hours. He perched by the window, peering out.

  Hating to admit it, I realized there was something so peaceful about the church. There really was. Yet, no one was sleeping. Beck was reading. Danny and Bill played a board game; Randy was on his computer contraption, writing diligently. I wanted to sleep. I could have but Phoenix inhibited that. He was cranky and crying. I think he had a belly ache because he kept pulling his legs up into him.

  Like I used to have to do with Jeremy, I began walking him around. He whimpered.

  The scrapbook was never far from my mind and the more I thought of it, the more I wanted to take a look. At the very least it would remove my thoughts from what would happen the next day when we arrived at Jessie’s location.

  I was nervous about that, scared and even anxious. I needed to see my daughter, I needed resolution. But for some odd reason, every time I thought of her, my heart ached. A thumping feeling formed in my stomach. It shouldn’t have. The last we spoke she was fine. I only hoped it was my neuroticism or the fact that I hadn’t seen or spoken to her in so long.

  Michael was in the back of the church stringing an acoustic guitar. He looked up when I approached him.

  Would you like me to take the baby?” he asked.

  “No, I have him.”

  “Moot question, padre,” Alex whispered form his window sea
t. “She doesn’t let anyone touch that baby.”

  “Not true,” I said. “I just don’t let you touch him because you said he was going to die.”

  Quickly, Michael looked at Alex. “You said that? That is very wrong.”

  Alex rolled his eyes. “But I retracted it the next day. I just can’t get a break from her.”

  I waved him off and he returned to peeking out the black cloth curtain.

  “Did you need something?” Michael asked.

  “I have a confession,” I said.

  “I’m not a priest.” Michael smiled.

  “Just a little one. When Bill and I were touring the church, he saw a scrapbook on your desk.”

  Michael nodded slowly and peacefully, “Yes, my mother made that for me. It’s very special.”

  “I figured that. I was wondering if I can look through it. There was a lot of work put into it and I’m kind of bored and . . .”

  “Please.” He said. “Be my guest.”

  I thanked him, left him alone to string his guitar and headed to his office. There wasn’t a door or window back there, so I felt safe from a Sleeper attack. Plus, Alex was on watch.

  Phoenix in my arms, I made my away back there, thinking about how quiet and comfortable the lounge portion was. After I was ready to sleep, even if it were only a few hours, I was going to sleep on one of the couches.

  The scrapbook was amazing. His mother documented every moment of his evangelistic career from his seminary graduation to mission work. There was a CD cover from his first Christian music album and various newspaper articles, some quite impressive. Most of the articles had been in the prior couple years about the little mountain church. How Michael was responsible for raising the money for renovations and rocking the young back through the doors of the church.

  I was swept away from my worries of Jessie and lost myself in the last ten years of the life of a minister I had just met. All ten years were carefully pasted and constructed on the pages of a scrapbook made with so much love.

  Michael was a good man, from what I read. I believed I misjudged him.

  I sat there for the longest time, Phoenix still not completely sleeping, but not too fussy that I couldn’t enjoy what I read.

  Then the soft guitar music started flowing to me. It came from the church. Simple guitar picking that was soon followed by soft singing.

  Within minutes, Phoenix soothed with the music. That surprised me. It was time to close the scrapbook, grab a blanket and try to sleep. But first I thought I’d listen to Michael play.

  He was good.

  There was something about his singing.

  While I carried an enormous amount of anger over what had happened to our earth and put a lot of blame on God, I was still moved by how much he felt he words he sung. That was evident in his voice.

  Perhaps like Phoenix, his music could give me an inch of peace.

  I left the back office. Alex perched on a bar stool by the window, still staring out. I stopped before I passed him.

  “Anything?” I asked.

  Alex shook his head and whispered. “Nope. Quiet out there. The moon is really bright.” He nodded at the baby. “He’s finally asleep?”

  “Yeah.”

  Alex started to reach out his hand but stopped. “Sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry. Go on.”

  “Wow,” Alex cocked a sarcastic smile. “I’m honored.” Then that smile turned peaceful. First his fingers touched about Phoenix’s head, and then his entire hand cupped it. “He’s a tough little guy, you know that, right?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Four days old and he’s just like . . .” Alex whistled softly. “Alert. Preemie and so alert. He’s gonna make it and I’m very, very sorry for saying otherwise.”

  “It’s okay.” My eyes lifted from watching his hand to his eyes. “I know you’re sorry and I’m sorry for being so hard on you.”

  He closed his mouth tightly and shook his head with a ‘that’s all right’ look. I noticed his eyes were glossy.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  Half heartedly, he answered, “Yeah. Just thinking about Missy’s youngest. He was my godson, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

  Another shake of his head. “He was early, too.” Alex took a deep breath and shivered as he exhaled. “You can put him down right by me. I’ll watch him. He won’t stop breathing.”

  His words caught my attention. “Why did you say that?”

  “Because I know that’s what you’re thinking. He’s early, little, if you keep holding him at night and he stops breathing you’ll know.”

  He was right. I was scared that if something happened to Phoenix while he wasn’t in my arms, I wouldn’t know.

  “Besides,” Alex continued. “Get some rest. You should get some sleep without something attached to your chest. Then again, your son is attached to your hip.”

  “Dude.” Danny called out across the quiet church. “I so am not.”

  I laughed. Alex laughed. Then I decided to take him up on his offer and I sought out the basket for Phoenix, placing him in the pew nearest to Alex.

  I thanked him for the nice conversation. And it was nice to talk to him without arguing or hearing an ‘aim for the leg’ comment.

  There was one other man I needed to speak to before retiring for a few hours.

  Michael.

  Making my way to him, I noticed Beck was dozing off while reading. Randy, he was out. Really out. And as I passed Bill, I noticed he had Randy’s pad computer thing in his hands.

  “Randy let you use that?” I asked with shock. “He’s so protective over it.”

  Bill moistened his lips as he innocently gazed to me.

  “Give it back,” I told him so motherly.

  “I’m not gonna read his personal private stuff,” Bill shook his head. “I just want to see this thing. It’s cool. I am a computer guy. However . . .” He lifted it and turned it all about. “I can’t figure out how to turn it on. Odd.”

  “He waves his hand on it.”

  “Really?” Bill asked.

  I nodded.

  Bill waved his hand around it.

  “Up top,” I instructed.

  Bill tried it again. Nothing. “Wait.” He said, stood and walked to Randy. Carefully he lifted Randy’s hand, moved it over the computer and it turned on. “Cool. Thanks for the tip.”

  I wondered if Randy would get angry about Bill checking out his toy. I doubted it. Randy was a nice guy. It was an interesting and unique computer. But I really didn’t get into that sort of stuff.

  Michael was still playing his guitar in the back of the church; he stopped when I approached. “You look more peaceful,” he said.

  “I feel better, thank you. And I just wanted to say that you have had an amazing journey as a minister.”

  “It’s my calling,” he shrugged.

  “And I am sorry for not trusting you and throwing the monkey wrench into your theory on what was happening to the world.”

  He produced a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

  “Phoenix.”

  With an ‘ahh’ he nodded once. “I didn’t change my mind, if that’s what you mean. I still believe it’s God’s end, probably even more so now that I met Phoenix.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “Mera, did you ever think that maybe the Rapture didn’t turn out as intended. Or maybe Phoenix wasn’t left behind by error, but rather on purpose. For you to find? Maybe.” Another shrug.

  “Why me? Why us?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we have to get him somewhere. But I’m thinking Revelation 12:5. Where the pregnant woman gives birth.”

  I smiled gently. “I may be Catholic, but I know the Bible.”

  “That’s funny.” He said.

  “Thanks. “

  Then he paraphrased the section of the Bible. “And she gave birth to a male child who was destined to rule the nations.”

  “But Michae
l, that child was immediately taken up to God. Like the Rapture.”

  He nodded. “To another battle if you remember correctly. The child battles demons. Heaven versus hell. What if the child’s battle is here? Right here. On earth.”

  “But that section. That woman is symbolic of another Mary and the child is a second Jesus. Are you saying you think Phoenix . . .” I paused, I didn’t finish. I didn’t know whether to laugh in ridicule or just express a shock over what he had said.

  “Possible.” Michael explained. “The Sleepers. The death. The destruction. That child defied the odds, like the baby in the Bible. Born into a crazy world. There is something special about him, I can feel it. Babies were stillborn, children taken from this earth. But he remained. He alone. Think about it, Mera. It is possible that he wasn’t left behind. It wasn’t a mistake, but rather like the Bible states . . . the Second Coming.”

  23. Jessie

  Michael’s words stayed with me until I fell asleep. They were farfetched but deep. Then again, I was having a hard time believing it was God’s end. I still believed in God, but Him ending the world? No. Not that I believed Phoenix was the Savior, but did God leave him there for us for a reason ... yes.

  I woke and washed before heading out to join the others. I really enjoyed the privacy of that back office. Sun had just risen, and as soon as I entered the church Michael handed me a coffee and biscuit. I thanked him and spotted Randy zipping his bag. Everyone else was getting ready to go.

  He was the one I wanted to talk to in regards to what Michael had said to me.

  Randy, in my opinion, was the best one. Bill was an atheist, he’d scoff; Danny was too young; Beck would shake his head in disbelief; and Alex would ridicule. Randy’s opinion would be honest. He, like me, believed in God and he, like me, wasn’t convinced that the Book of Revelation was suddenly upon us.

  “Got a second?” I asked him.

  Randy smiled, one of those half smiles. “What else do I have but time? What’s up?”

  “I was talking to Pastor Michael last night. You were sleeping. And he said something. He brought up Revelation 12:5.”

  Randy looked to the ceiling for a moment as if he remember what exactly that passage was. “Refresh me.”