Sleepers

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Nice to see you guys.” He smiled. “Really, it is. Always glad to see survivors.”

  “Thanks,” Beck said. “We’re looking for someone. Her daughter. She’s nineteen.” Beck pointed back to me.

  The man peered in the window and lifted his hand in a wave. “We have a lot of people that came from different camps. You can head on in and check for her. This road is barricaded, it’s a safe passage. Head down another block, make a right. You can see the county jail.”

  Beck thanked him again and began to drive. Cars were piling up and a huge crane perched to our left. It was obvious where all the cars had gone. Whoever these people were, they were piling them up as a blockade.

  The fortress of cars grew stronger the closer we drove to the prison.

  Beck parked. “What do you think?” He looked directly at Alex when he asked that question.

  Alex inhaled loudly and sat up a bit to look through the windshield. “I don’t think these people mean harm. Isn’t gonna hurt to ask, right?”

  Beck nodded.

  Alex turned around to me. “I don’t think we should take the baby in. Not yet. Not until we case this place out.”

  Randy suggested, “I can stay out here with him. I don’t mind. I agree with Alex. I don’t think we should let anyone see him. Not anyone we can’t trust.”

  The words, ‘anyone we can trust’ went through my mind and I thought about his little computer secret that Bill had discovered. My instincts told me Randy meant no harm and wanted to protect Phoenix.

  “Or you can stay here and we’ll take Danny inside,” Beck suggested. Your call.”

  I handed the baby to Randy. “Thank you. Watch him.”

  “With my life,” Randy smiled.

  I took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

  There was a guy that stood out front; he smoked a cigarette and waved to us as we stepped out of the van. The glass front doors to the jail were open, and as we made our approach I could see another man inside; he had a clipboard.

  Alex and Beck were armed with their rifles and Danny had a handgun.

  My hands and arms felt empty, I needed to hold something to absorb my nervousness. Then I saw it clipped to Beck’s belt . . . Mr. Biggles.

  I had no idea he had it on him until that moment. “May I?” I asked as my fingers pointed to the bear.

  “Absolutely.” Beck unclipped the bear and handed it to me.

  He smelled sour and his fur had rough spots from the dried blood. But I held him anyhow. The ten-inch bear fit nicely in my grip as we stepped inside the doors.

  The man with the clipboard was wearing a blue tee shirt and a pair of grey uniform pants. Probably around fifty years old, he had a receding hairline, but the rest of his hair was buzzed. Not tall, not short, average.

  He turned to us, his hand extended to Beck first and stated a pleasant, “Nice to meet you folks. My guys said you were heading in.”

  “Beck,” He gave his name with a firm shake. “You?”

  “Miles. John Miles. But everyone calls me Miles.” He made his round of handshakes. “You folks coming from a camp? Shelter?”

  I answered. “Neither. We’re looking for my daughter. She was in college here in Seattle. I spoke to her three days after the event.”

  Miles nodded. “We’ve had a lot of camps, refugee centers, churches and so forth join us. I sent out men and a radio call.”

  Alex said. “We saw the signs.”

  Miles nodded. “Yeah, we keep adding them every time another place joins us. You know, in case someone is looking for a loved one. Like you.”

  Back commented, “This is quite a set-up.”

  “Well …” Miles chuckled a little. “I wouldn’t say that. Not yet. It will be. We’ve only been at it a week. Really throwing ourselves into long-term survival over the last few days when people started joining us.”

  He told us how he had worked at the prison and had no family. He actually was working the day of the event and no relief came; so he stayed and was also there when the Sleeping sickness took hold. Miles said it was horrible because there were some cells that held a Sleeper, and the cell partner wasn’t infected. About sixty percent of the prison population fell to the Sleeping sickness.

  When they first turned, they were robotic and not that violent. It was shortly after that they received word from the government to release all prisoners. There was no reason to keep them and the healthy could be useful.

  Miles released them and set them free.

  Knowing what was happening to the world, Miles also knew that the jail had a good food supply and could be secured. He conveyed this to the prisoners. Half of them stayed; the other half left.

  The ones that remained helped move all the Sleepers to the third floor high security area. After all, when they did that, the Sleepers hadn’t turned violent and to Miles, they were just sick. Who knew if a cure was forthcoming?

  After about three or four days, when no more was heard from the government and the Sleepers turned violent, Miles and the men realized they had a potential sanctuary for people. It was then he sent out men to build a protective blockade against the Sleepers, to scout weapons, forage for more food and water, and find survivors.

  Danny, who had been quiet, asked. “How many people do you have here?”

  Miles paused to think. “Has to be over 500 now. Maybe more.”

  “My daughter was moved from Maple Valley Christian Academy.” I pulled out my phone and turned it on. “Then she went to John the Baptist Church.”

  “That group came here,” Miles said. “I know Father Craig personally.”

  “Her name is Jessica or Jessie Stevens.” I pulled up her picture on the phone.

  “The name doesn’t sound familiar.”

  “Do you recognize her?” I handed him the phone.

  He did look, long and hard. “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen her here. We have only about two dozen women and most of them aren’t young. Only a few.”

  Alex questioned. “Only two dozen women out of five hundred people? That seems skewed; is it because of the prison population?”

  Miles shook his head. “No.”

  Beck added. “Maybe you’re mistaken. There are a lot of people here . . .”

  Again, Miles shook his head. “I know our women. There aren’t a lot. We keep them safe. You’re welcome to check, but I’m really sorry, I know for a fact she isn’t one of them.”

  I believed him, he had honest eyes. My head hung low.

  “I am sorry. You . . .” Miles hesitated. “It might be difficult, it might be painful, but it may bring you resolution if … let’s just say you’re welcome to check the yard.”

  Immediately my head lifted. I saw Beck, Alex and Danny all held the same confused expression as I did. What did he mean? The yard? What was so painful about that?

  ****

  A hint of daylight peeked through the small window on the bronze colored security door. Concrete encased it and Miles raised his hand to the keypad. Before he inserted a code, he turned around to us.

  “Just be prepared, okay. When we walk through there is a fenced-in walkway. Try to stay away from the fence.” He punched in a code. “The walkway goes around the entire yard, so you should be able to get a good view.”

  The second that door opened, the answer to the mystery was clear before I even stepped through.

  I could hear them. Smell them.

  Sleepers.

  Hands tried diligently to squeeze through the small fence and only fingers made it. Reaching for us, gnawing at the fence. Hordes of Sleepers pressed against the fence.

  Every ounce of air escaped me. There were hundreds of them. There were more Sleepers than there were survivors in the complex.

  I backed away from the fence, but I made sure I looked at every face, or at least tried to.

  Some were just pale, very pale, eyes dark. Some were pasty white with injuries that were beginning to heal badly.

  I heard Danny whisper my name,
“Mom,” then he said. “Please don’t let her be here.”

  I closed my eyes for a second and said a quick prayer. I didn’t want my daughter to be penned up with the Sleepers either.

  Beck was tall, very tall and he was able to see beyond any of our scopes.

  “Anything?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  Miles explained as we paced slowly. “We’ve not much time to learn them, but we will. There are three types of Sleepers. The ones that turned in the event. They get violent, most of them. Most often it’s when provoked or even just approached. They attack in waves and without rhyme or reason. They also calm down in waves. The second type are those who were bit or scratched by the Sleepers and became one. They’re violent most of the time, if not all the time.”

  “Wait,” Danny said. "I was bit. I didn’t become one.”

  “Then you must be immune,” Miles replied. “I was bit too. However that fella there.” He pointed to a black man in the yard; his neck was stained with blood. “He wasn’t so lucky. He’ll pass on soon. They’re almost on auto pilot. Alive, moving, but eventually the serious injury takes its toll. We’ve seen it happen. They are the third kind. Bit by a bite-wound Sleeper, their wounds are usually near fatal but the virus revives them enough to live. They aren’t zombies or undead. Close to it. Most Sleepers sleep during the day when they aren’t in here. That’s why you don’t see many on the streets during the day. Most of these were captured at night or turned when they got here. We found if you provide them food, they’re less violent.”

  Danny asked. “How do you feed them?”

  “We bring in substance once a day and leave it for them. Whatever we can. Some eat. Some don’t. Some get weak and some are getting stronger. We have those suits men wear for attack dogs; that’s how we bring it in without injury.”

  Then Alex squeaked out a ‘why?’

  “Excuse me?” Miles asked.

  “Why are you feeding them, allowing them to live like this?” Alex asked.

  “Why not?” Miles retorted.

  “Aside from the fact that they’re dangerous, do you really think they want to live like this?” Alex questioned further.

  “I don’t know.” Miles shrugged. “Ask them.”

  Alex scoffed.

  “I’m serious, young man. I wouldn’t want to, I have stated my wishes. Put a bullet in my head. However, they haven’t stated their wishes.”

  Alex laughed in ridicule. “I’m pretty sure they don’t want to live like this.”

  “I am too, but it’s not my call,” Miles said. “I’m also pretty sure that right now, we’re left behind in God’s Rapture, end of the world, whatever you call it. He made this virus. He made the Sleepers. He’ll take them when He’s ready. They do die on their own. God has a plan, and I don’t think me killing them is part of His plan. I’m not taking that chance. I’ll just keep them away from people, give them basic needs and let God do the rest.”

  Alex didn’t agree. He facially showed it.

  Miles continued. “A lot of folks disagree with me. That’s fine. They can do what they want to the Sleepers out there, but in here, they live.”

  Beck breathed out a slight huff. “This isn’t living, sir.”

  We were so engrossed in talking, and not looking, that I must have neared the fence too much. A Sleeper reached out. The hand slipped through the fence and grabbed hold of my belt. Then the fingers then went to Mr. Biggles.

  I jumped back a little but the fingers held on.

  Danny whimpered out, “Mom.”

  I was engrossed in the struggle with the bear until Danny’s call snapped me out of it. The tone of his voice could only mean one thing. My eyes shifted from the fingers to the hand, then followed the arm until I saw the Sleeper’s identity.

  Jessie.

  25. Life Decisions

  It was plain to see that she was injured, badly, too. Her beautiful face had scratches, a bite mark removed a section of her cheek nearly to her chin, and her forearm bore a gaping hole that was well into a later stage infection.

  My daughter seemed to emerge from the masses, making her way to the fence. My heart beat in my ears and my eyes connected with hers.

  She was still in there. Behind those lifeless eyes surrounded by a pasty white face, Jessie was still in there.

  She knew the bear. She wanted that bear. But did she know me?

  I moved my index finger to swipe across her hand and the second I did so, Jessie let go of the bear and grabbed hold of my fingers.

  She grabbed my hand.

  My lips quivered, eyes still making contact with her, and she opened her mouth wide. I prepared for a growl, snarl, something vicious. I wasn’t prepared for what I got. It was as if she tried to speak. A streaming whimper filled with pain and agony emerged from her open mouth like a baby seal crying out for help. Only through those sounds, my heart heard, “help me, Mommy. Help me.” That is what I felt in my soul and I crumbled right then and there.

  Releasing a hard, built-up sob, I fell to my knees and to the concrete. Her frail fingers still gripped my own, and I brought my lips to her hand.

  She continued the groaning with each touch of my lips, each trail of my hand up her arm. I didn’t want to let her go.

  “Oh, baby, I m so sorry.” My tears fell to her hand and I swiped them. “Mommy is so sorry.”

  My heart was broken; another of my children, my flesh and blood was lost to the madness of the world. Lost to the senseless plague of whatever that swept across the globe.

  No. No.

  Looking at my child, again, I was convinced there was no God that had caused this. No way.

  I felt my son, his hand gripping my shoulder as he hunched behind me, sharing his sister’s hand with me. His head pressed to my back and I could feel the shaking of his body as he cried.

  “I just ... I just wish I could hold you one more time. I wish I could hold you.” I sniffed hard. My daughter. My oldest. The child that held such a special place in my heart. My best friend, a hole was placed in my heart right then. I grasped a final moment as a family, bringing Danny’s hand into mine with Jessie’s. I pressed my lips hard to her hand and held them there. My eyes squeezed tightly closed at the sounds she made and I stood.

  Trying to pull myself together, knowing I could break down at any second, I avoided really looking at Beck. Because the moment I did, I saw the gloss of welled up tears in his eye. He felt emotion for my family. He knew my pain. Looking at him was hitting at my core and I was fearful I’d fold. There was something I had to say.

  “Miles, thank you for this resolution,” I said. “They can’t tell you what they want. But I’m her mother. I know she doesn’t want to be like this. I know this.” I turned to Alex. His forefinger and thumb were pressed tightly to the corner of his eyes and he looked away. “Alex.”

  Alex cleared his throat. His voice cracked as he said, “Yeah?”

  “You’re the only one that can do this. Please, for me, you know what needs to be done.”

  “Mera . . .”

  “Please.” I placed the teddy bear firmly in Jessie’s hand and gripped her hand while looking at her. Did she know me? Would she understand my words? I believed she did. “I’m sorry, baby. I love you. I love you so very much.” I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed her one last time. “I love you.”

  Releasing that hand was the hardest thing in the world I had ever done, I took a step, turned around to see Danny.

  “Goodbye, Jess,” Danny whispered then an ache seeped from him, and he spun to me.

  I took my son’s hand and without looking back, without thinking about what I had asked of Alex, I left that hall, the yard and eventually the prison.

  ****

  Randy had pulled out his little folding chair and was seated right outside the prison in the shade of the van. Phoenix in his arms, he stood when he saw us. “I was worried,” he said and walked only a step.

  I moved quickly to him and my head fell t
o his broad chest.

  “Oh my God, Mera. What happened?” I could smell Phoenix. My head balanced between Randy and the baby. I felt his hand on my back.

  “What . . .” Then Randy moved back when we heard a bang of metal. I raised my head then turned to where he looked.

  Danny. Poor Danny.

  He kicked the van, hit it, pounded his fist and gurgled out a scream as he grabbed on to his head. He unleashed.

  Not once since he returned home from school had my son shown emotions like that. I was worried that he had become cold but I saw at that moment he was just trying to stay strong, and his strength had left him. “Danny,” I called out.

  “It’s not fair!” he kicked the tire again. “It’s not fair!” With a heavy, heart-wrenching sob, he spun around, back against the van and slid down to the ground. He sobbed, repeating that it wasn’t fair.

  “Danny.” I started to cry as I walked to him. Randy stood behind me.

  “No, Mom. Why?” Danny peered up to me.

  “I don’t know.”

  “All of this. Why? Jeremy. Dad. Bill and Jessie? Jessie, Mom? She never hurt a soul. She of all people didn’t deserve to be a Sleeper. Not her.”

  Randy’s whimpering ‘Dear God’ rang out. “Mera, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

  “What happened to this world? I hate this.” Danny cried, dropping his head to his knees. “I want my life back. I want it back. And that will never happen.”

  He really was just a child. Despite how badly he wanted to portray his maturity, that he was strong, he was just a teenage boy and not only had the world placed the burden on him, I did as well.

  There was little I could say or do except comfort him.

  He was right. I hated what had become of our world. I hated it too. I wanted my life back.

  But things would never be the way they were.

  If it had been God’s work, why didn’t He just end it? End it, damn it, put us all out of our misery.

  We stayed together, huddled close to the van for a while. I wanted to leave and wondered what was taking Beck and Alex so long. Randy offered to go in and check, but I wanted and needed him outside with us.