The Dead Are Sleeping

by Paul Westwood

I woke up with a jolt. I thought I heard something like a small explosion but didn’t know what it was. Perhaps it was just thunder. A look at the clock showed that it was just after nine in the morning. The sun was still refusing to come out. Through the boughs of the pine trees was a grey leaden sky but the rain had stopped. Feeling confused I looked around to see where I was. There was another short and sharp intensive sound that sounded close. Someone was firing a gun. I looked around but could not see where the shots were coming from.

  Opening the truck door as quietly as I could, I slipped outside. In the gloom and rain of last night I hadn’t noticed that I had found a location that was near a low sprawling building. It appeared to be a school made of brown brick. Between me and the back of the school was a fence, an overgrown football field filled with dead leaves, and a parking lot that contained a few vehicles including an ambulance. A chain link fence, that looked to have been hastily built, was wrapped around the entire building. The fence was no longer intact. From the various news reports I had seen, this appeared to be a rescue center: a place to get food, shelter, and even medical treatment. Of course they turned out to be death traps as those inside were robbed, killed, and – if the rumors were true – even eaten. Of course nobody really believed such wild stories; that was until the electricity was cut, the stores ran out of food, and people were willing to kill for a can of food.

  Another shot rang out. From around the corner of the school came a rather petite figure. It looked to be a girl – thin and with dirty brown hair - who was just wearing a pink t-shirt and exercise pants. She was running as fast as she could, headed straight for the football field and then the freedom beyond the fence. I stood there, unsure what to do. She soon caught sight of me, gave a cry, and turned to away to head down the length of the field. She was scared alright. And I could see why since from my position I could now see a half-dozen men in pursuit. They were a scraggly lot with long hair and beards. One – the man in the lead - was carrying a rifle.

  He pointed the gun in the direction of the girl and fired. Luckily the shot went wide, sending a tuft of heavy sod into the air. The men laughed but she paid them no attention. Instead she kept on running scared.

  These men were so intent on their prey that they did not see me slink back into the cover of the pine trees. I jumped into the truck, started the engine, slid the transmission into reverse and stabbed the gas pedal down. I would either look really foolish, or, if things went according to plan, a hero. The rear bumper made contact with the low chain link fence and the whole truck only stopped momentarily before plowing through. When I was clear, I then put the gear into drive and headed toward the girl, who was still running blindly down the field. She was so terrified that she didn’t even notice me. I blew the horn to attract her attention but that only seemed to scare her even more. All I got was a glance of wild crazed eyes half-hidden by streaming hair. Perhaps she thought I was trying to run her down.

  A bullet smacked against the driver’s door. I didn’t know if the lead penetrated inside the cabin but that was only a momentary thought. I had to keep the truck between the girl and that rifleman. Pulling abreast with her I honked the horn again. This time she looked at me. Using the door switch, I rolled down the window on the passenger side.

  “Get inside!” I shouted.

  I jerked the truck to a stop, the tires sliding on the wet grass. And then the passenger door was opened and she was inside. Another bullet hit, this time shattering the back glass and making yet another hole in the windshield. I punched the gas pedal and for a moment I thought we were stuck, but soon the truck got traction and pulled us out. In a few seconds we were clear of the football field, bouncing over a curb, and then onto the road. I gave the engine everything it had until we were clear. No other bullets found their mark.

  The girl was breathing hard and she didn’t make eye contact with me. I would place her age at twelve, or maybe thirteen. She had dirty blonde hair that could do with a wash, grimy cheeks, and her clothes looked if they had been worn for several days in a row. There was a smell of body odor. Of course these days none of us were exactly at our best when it came to cleanliness.

  “My name is Tom,” I said pleasantly as I could as I steered the truck past houses and through intersections.

  She glanced at me with green eyes. “Sarah,” she managed to blurt out with a voice that was still captive with fear.

  “What happened back there?”

  Sarah swallowed a few times before answering, “My dad. My dad is back there. We were holed up in that school because there was still some food there. But those men came this morning. They began to beat up my dad. They shot him. And then they began to chase and taunt me. I got scared.”

  “Your dad – is he still alive back there?”

  She nodded her head as if trying to dispel an evil memory. “He was shot in the stomach. I mean I think he was. That’s when I ran for it since I thought I was going to be next.”

  I could only imagine what those animals had in store for her. “Try to remember for a second. Where was your father shot? Was he bleeding or moving afterward?”

  Sarah became silent with her eyes scrunched up in thought. “I was so frightened. The guy with the gun was waving it around and laughing. My dad was pleading for him to leave us alone. That only seemed to make the gang angrier. Then the man with the gun pointed it at my dad and pulled the trigger. There was blood on the stomach of my dad’s shirt. I was so scared I went running.”

  “So you think your father is dead?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Sarah began to cry. The past few minutes had been too much for her. She was scared and now alone. It was against my better judgment but I would have to do something about it.

  I waited until the tears had paused. I said encouragingly, “Look, Sarah, let’s wait until night comes. Then I’ll go see if your dad is okay. In the meantime let’s get you something to eat and something warmer to wear.”

  This idea seemed to cheer her up just a little bit. I turned down a random residential street, made a few more zigzags so we would be harder to find. There was a good chance that this gang could be angry enough to come searching for us. There was no reason I should make their job any easier.

  I stopped at a house that had a red VW Beetle in the driveway. The whole block looked neglected with overgrown grass and darkened windows. It would only be a few years before all of these structures fell apart and became part of the dirt. All civilizations are doomed to die, but this one was just doomed to die faster than any ever had before.

  With the engine shut off and the keys in my hand, I got out of the truck, motioning for Sarah to stay in place. The revolver tucked inside my waistband gave me a little more confidence. I went up to the front door of this modest ranch home and knocked. There was no answer. I tried the knob but it was locked. Someone was hoping to come back. There was no reason to go and try all the doors, so instead I used the butt of the pistol and shattered one of the vertical windows near the entrance. I reached inside, unlocked the door, and opened it. My nose was greeted by the smell of mustiness.

  “Hello?” I shouted down the empty hallway.

  There was no reply. I looked at the truck and saw Sarah through the windshield watching me with wide eyes. I motioned her to come over. She gingerly stepped out of the truck and joined me inside. I shut the door and relocked it as a temporary measure if anyone found us here. It would only stop them for a few seconds but it was something.

  “Let’s take a look around,” I suggested.

  She nodded, sticking close to me as I went from room to room. The entrance had pictures of family, one being a teenage daughter. The living room was all sofa and had a big screen television. The kitchen had open cupboards – mostly empty. Someone had packed and left in a hurry. Next was a dining room with a set of four chairs and a wooden table. A light fixture, that would probably never work again, hung from the ceiling. After that we went down a long hallway with a bathroom and three bedrooms. One
of them was definitely the domain of a teenager girl with clothes littering the floor, a bed with pink flowered sheets, and boy band posters plastered to the wall.

  “There you go,” I said. “I’ll find you a bag and try to find you a coat in the front closet. Your job is to pick out some clothes.”

  “But these will be too big,” she said as she looked over the debris of clothing. But it was obvious that she was excited looking over such a treasure.

  I left her there. I went back to the entrance, looking out of the windows to make sure we hadn’t been followed here. There was nothing. Searching the closet, I found a thick wool jacket that should fit Sarah, and a canvas bag containing a pair of roller-skates. This brought home that this place was once lived in by real people. I felt a little sad as I dumped the skates on the floor.

  After this, I went to the kitchen and looked through what was left. There were a few cans left – the sort of food that rarely gets consumed, like string beans and sauerkraut. I took what I could and stuffed them inside the bag. After that, I returned to the bedroom where I had left Sarah, making sure to call out her name before poking my head into the open door. There was no reason to scare her or make her unduly nervous of me. We were, after all, just introduced. It would take a while to build some trust.

  “Come in,” Sarah said. “It’s cool.”

  She had changed into a thick blue wool sweater and a pair of jeans that were slightly too large for her, but a belt and rolled-up legs corrected that. She had also selected a pile of clothing that was on the bed. Too my surprise they looked sensible. I had been expecting a whole bunch of silliness instead of practicality.

  I said, “I found a jacket for you. And here is a bag to pack that clothing. I want to get back in the truck and find a better hiding spot. We’re out in the open if any of those thugs comes rolling by.”

  “Okay.”

  I asked, “After we find a place I was going to make something to eat. Are you hungry?”

  “Famished.”

  “Okay, then let’s get going. I’m not much of a cook but I can heat something up for us.”

  For the first time I saw her smile – faint though it was.

  October 18th – late afternoon

  We sat inside an auto repair office and ate the canned beef stew that I had cooked on the camp stove. It was simple fare but, after the excitement of the early morning, much needed. The truck was outside, parked behind the building where it was trying to inconspicuously fit in with some other vehicles that would forever wait to be fixed. A light rain pattered on the metal roof above, making me feel drowsy as if I was on a camping trip, tucked safely away inside of a tent.

  “Thanks for the food,” Sarah said shyly. She had finished all of the food and, without any trace of embarrassment, ran her fingers along the inside of the bowl to collect whatever gravy was left.

  “What were you eating at that school?”

  She made a face. “There is a stash of something that my dad called MREs. Some type of military food?”

  I nodded. “They last a long time but aren’t known to taste that good. I’ve heard the vegetarian options actually are the best. I hope I don’t have to find out.”

  “At that point we didn’t care. Out on the road we were running low on food.”

  “What’s your father’s name?”

  “Ben. I’m his daughter, Sarah Carson.”

  “Any other family around?” I asked, knowing the answer wouldn’t be good.

  A shadow of despair passed that young face. “My mother is dead. And so is my younger brother.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I lost my wife, Anne.”

  She nodded with a grim expression that looked too practiced for a girl of her age. “What was she like?”

  I gave her a frown since the memory was still painful. “Anne was my best friend and my much better half. She was kind and never complained, not even when she dying. In fact Anne seemed more embarrassed by the whole thing than anything else. Maybe she didn’t like me caring for her since she was always busy taking care of me.”

  “It sounds like she was very nice. Did you ever have any kids?”

  “No. We weren’t married that long. I guess we were too busy to even think about children.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “What were your mother and brother like?” I asked.

  She laughed. “She always worried about everything and still thought I was a little kid. Mom always asked me if my homework was done, or why my hair was so long. She should have paid more attention to Mike, my brother, since he was always getting into trouble.” She looked as if she was going to start crying again.

  I quickly asked, “Tell me, how did you get here? Whatever this town is called.”

  “It’s called Pemberville,” she replied with that smart-aleck tone that only a teenager could muster. I half-expected an eye roll to come next but I was thankfully spared. “We were from Washington, DC. After my mom and brother died, dad decided to head toward New Orleans. He never told me why but he seemed determined to get there. But the car broke down on the highway and then we walked here into town. We were running low on food but were able to find some in the school. Dad wanted to rest up for another day or two before we found another car to continue the drive. That’s when that gang came.” She made an uneasy smile. “I forgot to thank you for saving me.”

  “It was no problem.”

  Sarah then gave me a real wide smile. “Tom, do you think you’ll be able to save my dad?”

  I replied honestly, “I’ll try if he’s still alive. But I really won’t know that until I get there.”

  The smile gave away to a look of disappointment. There was no reason to get her hopes up. Both of us should have learned that by now.

  “Can I go with you?” she asked hopefully.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Please?”

  “This is going to be very dangerous.” I touched the butt of the pistol stuck in my waistband. “I know they have a rifle and possibly some more guns. All I have is this pistol. That means I will have to move in there nice and quiet. It will be easier if it is just me doing the sneaking.”

  “I can be quiet too.”

  “I bet you can. But you’ll stay here until I return.”

  “But what if you don’t come back? I’m scared of being alone. It has become too quiet without someone else around.” Sarah nervously eyed the walls as if expecting an attack from some unknown creature.

  I shrugged. “My death is always a possibility. You’ve seen enough already to know that. I’ll leave the clothing you got along with enough food to last you a week. If I don’t return by midnight, find a car that runs, get out of here, and head south. Do you know how to drive?”

  “A little. My dad showed me some.”

  “Well it’s a good time to start learning. And at least these days you can’t get arrested and no one is going to care if you bash the car up a little. So find some keys here and a car to drive. Stick to the side roads since the highways are guaranteed to draw the crazies.”

  “Okay,” Sarah said sullenly.

  It was obvious that she still wanted to go but I wasn’t about to let her. She was, after all, only a little girl. I didn’t feel too sure of myself doing this rescue mission and didn’t want her to see me in such a situation – shaking with fear with the idea of risking my skin for a complete stranger.

  I went outside. After selecting an assortment of cans from the truck, I brought the food in along with her bag of clothing and a flashlight. With a wave of my hand, I turned to leave.

  “Be careful,” she said as I opened the door.

  Over my shoulder I said with as much confidence as I could muster: “I will. The sun is about to set. Don’t turn on the flashlight unless you have to.” I hoped I sounded braver than I felt.

  “Okay.”

  I walked over to the truck, started the engine, and idled gently out of the parking lot. There was no reason to rush ahead since it w
ould be another half an hour before it was dark enough for me to make an approach to the school. In the meanwhile, to waste time, I drove around the town, circling closer and closer to my destination. It was quiet out, the gang apparently have decided to not to search for us. I drove the Toyota to a street next to the school, parking next to the curb where several other silent cars were.

  The grey sky above was turning black. I shut the engine off. From there I went on foot, heading toward the fence I had plowed over by the football field. It was colder outside than expected. It was too bad that I had left my jacket in the truck but I was depending on my green sweater and dark jeans to help me blend into the background. It felt strange to be out here surrounded by homes and all the signs of humanity but to know that I was really by myself, alone against this gang of killers. The façade of civilization certainly was a thin one, apparently only one incident away from oblivion. The world had turned into a jungle where only the strong, or those able to hide, survived. And it could only get worse from here.

  I paused at the broken fence. I briefly marveled at the damage the truck had done. Fence posts had been uprooted, leaving clumps of concrete pulled violently from the soil. The edges of the metal chain-link fence sagged while the center laid flat against the long grass. I trod on this destruction, moving slowly and carefully toward the back of the school. The building was dark. I wondered if eyes were watching me, waiting for that perfect moment to squeeze the trigger. But there was nothing but the far off sounds of a late fall night: the wind, the creaking of the trees, and the sound of leaves skittering along the sidewalk ahead.

  After stepping over a length of destroyed fence I got to the school. The back door, made out of steel, was locked. The windows at the entrance had chicken wire meshed into the glass. I decide to try entering another way. I went along the back wall. Here there were banks of high windows but the lower part of the glass was framed and hinged, allowing those inside to get some fresh air on a hot summer day. There was no wire embedded here. I studied this for a moment, wondering if breaking in was worth the risk. It was. Unless someone was in the room, they wouldn’t hear the glass shatter. With my back against the frame, I jerked my elbow into the lower pane of glass. It broke as a jolt of pain traveled the length of my arm. This looked easier on television. I listened. There was no alarm or outcry. After carefully removing the remaining shards embedded in the frame, I slid into the room head first.