Sleepers 2

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Yeah,” Sonny continued. “They said you stole mankind’s future.”

  A little melodramatic. But okay, I guess I did. Something about the three-day warning didn’t sit well with me. I had a lot of thinking to do and plans to make. My first decision was to move our entire group off the hill and away from the campsite to another, safer location.

  However, we first had to solve a significant problem. Where in the world was it safe?

  * * *

  Sonny knew the area and that was a blessing. He knew where to find anything we needed.

  The Sunnybrook Food Warehouse was located nine miles off of Route 80, a good seventy miles southeast of our campground.

  With the ability to draw gasoline from the reserve tanks at stations, I made the suggestion that we get another vehicle. Not that the bus wasn’t large enough, it was, but we were crowded. Sonny’s van served us well and was a lot more comfortable when it wasn’t weighed down.

  Mera rode in the van with Beck, Danny, Jessie, and both babies.

  I got stuck on the school bus with all the kids. However, they weren’t too bad; they were actually sad and unusually quiet.

  We rolled down the hillside road. Sonny was spot on with his description of the carnage on the highway. Where had all the Sleepers come from? Like Michael had suggested a while back, they followed each other, gaining members of their pack and picking up momentum when they found a trail.

  If there were that many remaining, I was left to wonder how many the government had killed.

  The bus bumped up and down as it rolled over bodies. I tried not to believe that they were people, especially since they had started to evolve.

  A little girl named Marissa made her way up to the front of the bus and sat right next to me. It surprised me. None of the kids had actually talked to me. They were an odd bunch. I mean, I only knew Missy’s kids and a few others, but this busload was strange. They barely spoke, were well-behaved and seemed immune to shock and despair. Unfazed by much, they glossed over Calvin’s death.

  Suffice to say, Marissa’s behavior took me aback.

  Her hair was blonde. I suspected it would be a lot lighter-colored if it were clean. It was tangled, messy, and needed to be brushed. In fact, all of the kids needed a good bath. If Bonnie or Jillian didn’t take care of that soon, I’d get Mera on it. She apparently liked that motherhood stuff.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hey,” I nodded.

  “I’m eight.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “How old are you?”

  “Why?”

  “We are curious.”

  “Hmm...” I paused. What would she know? So I lied. “Twenty-five.”

  “Wow, that’s old.”

  “I know,” I said, thinking to myself how shocked she’d be if she knew how old I really was.

  “Maybe you will live a long time.”

  “Let’s hope.” I tried to hide my smile.

  “My father, he lived to be forty-one!”

  “I’m …. I’m sorry?”

  She crinkled her face in curiosity at me as if I’d said the oddest thing. Then she exhaled. “I hope to be forty-two.”

  “Well I hope you live to be eighty-two if not more. Heck, a hundred and two.”

  She gasped. “Is that possible?”

  “Yeah, it is. Sure, why not?”

  “True.” She bobbed her head. “It’s a fresh start. So ….are you mean?”

  “No. Do I look mean?”

  Again, she nodded. “All the kids think you look mean.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you drew all over yourself.”

  I looked down at my arms, my sleeves of ink. “You mean my tattoos?”

  She gasped.

  “What?”

  “Tattoos are the devil’s work.”

  “Yeah, I know. Perhaps you should talk to the padre about that. He can pray for me. He’s the Son of God, you know.”

  “I will.” She hurried away.

  The devil’s work? I wondered if the kids had all lived in a religious commune or something. They were on a church trip when the Event occurred. That would explain their oddities. They probably were a cult, and the Ray guy, who was the doctor, was probably the cult leader.

  About four more kids came up to me asking the same questions. I hadn’t a clue why they were like that with me. I was a likeable guy. Perhaps I needed to put forth a little child-friendly effort.

  I did know one thing: next bus ride, Beck was riding with the kids.

  We didn’t see a Sleeper until we pulled into the Sunnybrook Food Warehouse parking lot. I thought that we’d hit the jackpot. The warehouse was a massive structure. The whole place was surrounded by a tall fence. There would have to be thousands of Sleepers in order for them to break through the fence as they had at the ARC.

  Four Sleepers wandered the property; they’d be easy to take out. The warehouse was near a small farm where their food distributor grew their own produce. A few houses were scattered along the road leading to the warehouse, and a small housing community was two miles away.

  It was perfect for our needs.

  We took out the Sleepers with ease, then Beck, Danny and I went inside to look for more of them.

  Sonny and Bonnie took his van to examine the area and would report back to us.

  We locked the fence behind them. I had a good feeling.

  The warehouse bays were open; that told me that survivors had come and taken their pick. I didn’t believe that much would be left.

  The Sunnybrook distributors handled superstores that carried more than just food, so the warehouse did, as well.

  I wanted to dance a jig. The warehouse would not only tide us over for a few days until we figured out the next step, it would also give us supplies for the near future.

  I reminded myself to hug Sonny the moment he returned.

  It took us over an hour to go through the entire complex. We had located several more Sleepers, but that was it. Just about the time we finished, Sonny returned.

  They’d only found a few Sleepers, which they killed.

  We secured the fence once again, brought the vehicles into the warehouse, and locked it down.

  The vast, empty bay area used for bringing supplies to trucks served well as a gathering area.

  We immediately set up bedrooms for the kids in the offices off of the bay. There were brand-new sleeping bags in aisle seven. They were eight shelves up, so Danny had to do some climbing.

  The kids had room to run, play, and make noise. That drove me nuts, but then again, the warehouse had room for us to have privacy.

  Mike was messing with the radio again, just listening, he said. I asked him about what he wanted to tell me in regards to his Doctrines notes, and he said he’d tell me later.

  I accepted that.

  Mera stayed away. She set up her sleeping area in a small office and made a makeshift bed for the babies. Phoenix was learning to roll over, so I told her that it wasn’t going to work for long.

  She glared at me.

  And Marissa accused me of doing the devil’s work. Apparently Marissa hadn’t ever seen that look Mera gave me.

  She stayed in sight nearby; she just didn’t talk to us.

  She spoke to Beck … of course.

  As the evening wore on, the kids quieted down. We used lanterns to light the area, and no one said much. Jessie and the babies were asleep. I invited Mera to join our group, but she declined, choosing instead to read by the office door.

  We talked occasionally about trivial things, and then Jillian, who had been silent, made the fatal mistake of speaking.

  That was what Mera was waiting for.

  The moment Jillian opened her mouth, I looked across the bay at Mera. Her book went down.

  “It doesn’t seem right,” Jillian said softly, “without kissing him goodnight.”

  Man, that just shot us all down.

  Jillian exhaled. “It was for the best. He’s
better now. It’s the way it had to be.”

  Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

  I grumbled. I knew what would happen when I saw Mera making her way over.

  “What do you mean it’s the way it had to be?”

  “It’s better that he not suffer any longer,” Jillian replied. “This world is no place for a child to live. Don’t you agree?”

  “No.” Mera barked. “I have three children, four if you count Keller, that are living in this world. No matter how hard this world is, I’ll do what I have to do to keep them safe.”

  I stood. “Mera,” I said soothingly, “come on.”

  “Come on what, Alex?”

  Jillian stood. “Why are you like this with me? You struck me. You hate me.”

  “I’m mad at you. No, wait, words can’t describe how angry I am with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you did this on purpose.”

  At that instant, everyone except Beck jumped at Mera, calling out her name, telling her to stop.

  “No!” Mera said harshly. “Sonny, you didn’t hear. Neither did you, Bonnie. He cried. He cried and begged for help. He screamed. You told him to run ahead on his own.”

  “He was my son!” Jillian argued.

  “He was eight years old!” Mera shouted.

  “And? He was my son. Not yours or anyone else’s. It was my choice. It is my right as a mother to decide what happens with my son.”

  “Not when he is a living, breathing child. Then it’s murder.”

  “Mera!” Michael yelled.

  “You sent him out there alone,” Mera continued. “It wasn’t for his safety, it was for yours. You used him to distract the Sleepers so you could live.”

  “Enough.” Michael stepped forward. “Mera, enough, that is cold and wrong and—”

  “It’s the truth,” Mera growled. “Look at her. Look at her eyes. She sent him out there alone on purpose.”

  Michael looked at Jillian.

  Quietly and with a spine-chilling tone, Jillian said, “I didn’t want him on this earth any longer.”

  Mera heaved out a sobbing breath. “They tore him apart.”

  Jillian sat back down. “It was my choice.”

  Thankfully Michael was there to grab Mera when she lunged toward Jillian.

  “This isn’t your concern, Mera.” Michael placed his arm around her waist, holding her back. “This is out of your hands.”

  “No, it’s not. She’s cold and calculating and should not be a part of this group,” Mera argued. “I don’t want her here.”

  I made my way over to assist, help calm things down. “And what should we do?” I asked. “Send her out there?”

  “Yes,” Mera answered. “Send her out. Who cares? An eye for an eye.” She turned to Michael. “Isn’t that what the Bible says, Michael?”

  “It does,” Michael said calmly. “But Jesus, he turned that phrase around.”

  “Oh, fuck Him,” Mera said sharply. “Take her out. Or I will.” Surprising even me, Mera pulled her revolver.

  Quickly, I reached out and snatched it from her hand. “Enough. Okay? This isn’t your group, it’s our group. And if the group decides she should stay, she stays. Beck? ”

  Standing quietly in the back, he lifted his head in acknowledgement.

  “Can you take Mera for a walk somewhere?”

  Mera sneered at me. “Why are you always calling him to control me?”

  “Because you people live like one big happy fucking family,” I snapped. “So now he can play Papa Bear and calm you down.” My voice rose. “Now! The kids don’t need this, Danny, Jessie, no one needs this now. Go! Walk.”

  Beck walked over and said softy. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

  After a moment, Mera huffed, “Fine,” and stepped back. “Danny, watch the babies,” she said as she strode past him, pausing to grab the bottle from Sonny. She stopped, looked at me, and just before she walked away with Beck, she pointed at Jillian. “Know this. Next run in with trouble … you’re Sleeper bait.”

  And then, with Beck, she walked off.

  After she had gone, we were quiet. We weren’t just reeling in the aftermath of Mera’s outburst and anger, we were reeling in the revelation that Jillian let her son die on purpose.

  It was a harsh reality for us to accept. I don’t think there was a single one of us who knew how to handle it at that moment.

  27. MERA STEVENS

  We hadn’t walked too far away from the group when my breathing normalized, and my heart rate steadied. I tried to recall the last time I felt so out of control with painful emotions. The closest I came was when I thought that Daniel was having an affair.

  What was wrong with me? Perhaps I just needed to go on a good drunk. However, I didn’t drink to get drunk; I only drank for the calming effect alcohol had on me.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t have a legitimate reason for my anger. I know most of it stemmed from the fact that precious few children were given an opportunity to live. 1.8 billion had died, and only a dozen or so lived. They were exceptional, they were meant for something else, and Jillian decided to let her son die.

  No one would ever convince me otherwise. The Sleepers were attacking, she didn’t want to die, and she sent out Calvin. Then again, it could have been she felt it was time for him to go. She was finished with protecting him and didn’t want him to be scared any longer.

  Still, in my mind and my soul, I knew that decision was wrong.

  I didn’t think Beck would scold me. He took me to the farthest door in the bay area, only stopping to grab a lantern and a couple of paper cups from the supplies. Then we walked.

  “Where are we going?” I asked. It seemed as if we were heading pretty far away from the others.

  He walked ahead of me as if looking for something. His head moved up and down with the movement of the flashlight beam. “Just want to get you away from the group. Far enough away so you’ll feel free to say what you want.”

  “I’ll say what I want anyhow.”

  He stopped walking and looked over his shoulder. “Yes, I know. How about I rephrase that? I am taking you far enough away, so they don’t have to hear you.”

  “Better. What are you looking for?”

  “I saw it somewhere in this aisle.” He raised his eyes toward the ceiling.

  “Well, we’re almost at the end.”

  He stopped, faced a box above his head, pulled out his knife and cut the box. “Yeah.” A bag of chocolate kisses rolled out. He turned and handed them to me. “They say chocolate has something in it to help a bad mood. So here.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “When I was mad, my husband Daniel used to bring me chocolate. Kisses.” I gripped the bag and handed him the bottle.

  “Smart man.”

  “So are you.” I opened the bag while he poured, and we exchanged goodies.

  “Feeling any better?”

  “I didn’t get it all out of my system.”

  “You will.” He winked.

  I took comfort in that wink, and then I absorbed that heavenly chocolate. I didn’t care how well or how badly it mixed with the whiskey, I enjoyed it. I took a healthy swallow, finishing off my glass.

  “That was fast, even for you.” Beck refreshed my glass.

  “I know.” I sighed. “Let’s just go.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You, me, Jessie, Danny, the babies, let’s pack up and go our own way. Let’s leave, set up somewhere, and do our own thing.”

  “Leave the group?”

  I nodded.

  “That’s really not fair to Michael or Alex. We’ve all been together a long time. They have as much vested in your family as you and I do. Besides …” Beck finished his drink, “you don’t want to leave the group. As much as you and Alex butt heads, he gives you a spark that I don’t think anyone else can.”

  “You’re right, I don’t want to leave the group. But
Alex …oh my God. He kills me. He really does. He makes fun of Michael all the time, and he’s just so damn arrogant.”

  “He’s a good leader.”

  “So are you.”

  “Maybe in other circumstances,” Beck said ruefully. “Not in this one. He makes decisions based on the good of us all.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Not really. I make decisions most of the time based on the good of you.”

  A part of me twitched inside when he said that. After hearing his words, I understood what he meant. From the moment he met me at the refugee center, when he broke the rules and gave me back my belongings, he had been doing things for me.

  “Everyone out there is a good person.”

  “Except Jillian,” I said.

  “I’m sure she is, somewhere under her Mommy Dearest exterior.”

  I laughed.

  “I know what happened hurt,” he said. “I know it. I felt it. And I know her actions angered you more than anyone. However, it’ll come around. It will. Don’t put that bad karma on yourself. Okay?”

  In shock over his words, I stepped back. “Wow. That was good.”

  “Thanks.” He took a sip of his drink. “Plus, Bonnie isn’t really a mothering type. I don’t know if you noticed. All those kids need attention. She can’t do it alone; she needs you.”

  “Somehow I think that if we left those kids in the middle of somewhere, all alone, they’d be just fine. Not that I would do that.”

  Beck turned his head to the side and looked at me through the corner of his eyes. “Why would you say that?”

  “Oh, come on. You haven’t noticed that those kids are weird? They hardly reacted to Calvin’s death. And that one boy, the one with the brown spiky hair and mischievous smile—”

  “Nick.”

  “Nick, yes. He told me that he knew Calvin from the trip and that he and his mother left the camp early.”

  “Really?” Beck seemed surprised by that.

  “Really, and I think I want to sit.” I started to sink to the floor; Beck stopped me, and pulled out a large box, placing it in the aisle then pulled out one for himself.

  “Will these hold us?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah, it’s a case of Spam.”

  I burst into laughter as I sat down. “Please don’t tell Alex or Michael.”