The Sleep of the Gods

by James Sperl

  Please.

  10

  Alvin from Apache

  Catherine couldn’t sleep. And this didn’t surprise her one bit. Despite her leaden eyelids and the relative comfort of the aluminum frame cot on which she lay, her brain still spun in her head at an optimal one hundred ten percent. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours, so much transpired, that the process of sorting it all out had really only begun once the lights in the store had been dimmed for sleeping.

  Peering through the soft black, she could just make out her children; Josh lay flat on his back with his mouth open, Abby had curled into a ball on her side and Tamara lay sprawled into a seemingly uncomfortable, contorted position. And had she not done this since she was a toddler, would certainly have invited great alarm.

  It pleased Catherine immensely to find her family so receptive to sleep. The cherry on top would be that they make it through the night and be spared the terror dreams that had plagued most of them since they embarked so long ago. And judging by the rested way in which each seemed to slumber, she thought this a likely outcome.

  There were two snorers contributing to Catherine’s insomnia. One person kept a steady rhythm, the sawing inhalations spaced evenly with equal amounts of quiet before the grating noise would repeat. The other offender was more erratic, the snorts and guttural grinds coming in fits and starts. Taken as a whole the duo sounded like some breathy, cacophonous performance, the steady snorer keeping a rhythm while the erratic snorer provided syncopated beats and freestyle interpretations.

  Catherine smiled silently to herself. Over time, she supposed, one could get used to the intrusive noise. Hell, over time, one could get used to anything. She had already proven that. And besides, how much worse off could she and her family be? There were an infinite number of ways and if loud snorers were all she had to contend with for the remainder of her days, she would gladly sleep in a room full of them if it meant her family could be safe.

  But she knew this would not be the case. No, there was some strange stuff, indeed, happening in the world right now. Stuff she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. And if she let her mind wander into that mystifying territory she would never see a minute of shuteye. It frightened her too much.

  Catherine rolled onto her side and stared into the darkened room. She could hear whispers coming from somewhere and noticed a person on the far side of the sleeping area rise and walk off. Probably a bathroom visit, she thought.

  She focused her attention on Josh, who lay on the cot beside her. Even in the murk of darkness she could still distinguish him—the narrow forehead, the long, strong nose and pointed chin, the endlessly tousled hair. Seeing him speak with Shelby stirred in Catherine such a fire of pride it was all she could do to contain herself. Her son, who by his own admission was not a particularly popular boy in school, had crushed Catherine’s spirit when his obvious withdrawal from all things resembling life had commenced. He’d taken no interest in sports, barely passed his classes, kept few friends and had more or less quarantined himself to his room to live vicariously through computer games and lurk among internet social sites. But the most disconcerting side effect of this self-imposed exile was his complete inability to engage with members of the opposite sex.

  But that was a different time. And he was a different boy. His awkwardness would, no doubt, be a stumbling block, but his confidence had grown by leaps and bounds. And this encouraged her. Even with the world on the brink she held out hope for him. He was her little boy. He always would be. And someday she hoped he would know love even a fraction as strong as the love a mother had for her son.

  Voices suddenly sounded from somewhere. They grew in intensity and volume until they transformed into an all out commotion. Catherine sat up on her cot, watching others do the same when a sharp banging came from the barricaded entry. The mesh fence smacked into the plywood, the sound reverberating throughout the store.

  People woke now, murmurings rippling through the crowd as an undeniable atmosphere of fear permeated the store.

  “Open the gate!” a voice yelled from outside, accompanied by more banging on the fence. “It’s Janet. Open the goddamned gate!”

  Even through the darkness Catherine could make out Cynthia’s rotund form as she scuttled over to the plywood barricades and began unlatching the padlocks. A pair of work lights clicked on. Then another. People rose from their cots, full scale panic etched on their faces as several individuals charged to Cynthia’s side and assisted with the lock removal.

  A single sheet of wood was struck down from the gate. The intense outside light from the atrium flooded into the store and drew protective hands to eyes storewide.

  A series of figures shuffled to the opening as the mesh fence was finally raised. One of the figures hung limply and was hurried into the store via the aide of two others.

  Janet was the last to enter.

  “It’s okay, everyone,” she hollered into the room. “Everything’s all right. Just relax.” She found Cynthia again, said something to her then jogged over to where the other men had situated themselves. Cynthia began the rapid reinstallation of the security gate as more lights popped on from around the room.

  Josh sat up amid moderate chatter and an illuminated Sears. He rubbed his face vigorously. “What’s going on?” he said to Catherine.

  “I’m not sure,” she replied. “But I think they brought somebody in. It looked like he might be hurt.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Who’s hurt?” Abby said, rising groggily from her fetal position.

  “We don’t know,” Josh answered. “Somebody up there.” He nodded in the direction of the ruckus.

  Catherine stared along with Abby. There was a small congregation of folks arranged in a loose circle. Catherine could only assume that Janet and the men who’d just arrived lay at the epicenter.

  “Think they found some more new people like us?” Josh proposed.

  “It’s possible,” Catherine said. “Although I’m not sure what their policy is on rescues during daylight hours. I got the distinct impression daytime was unsafe.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Josh agreed.

  Catherine glanced down at Tamara still unconscious in her sleeping bag. The girl could sleep through a tornado in a room full of church bells. And Catherine couldn’t be more grateful for it.

  She looked back over at the assemblage and discovered with a minor jolt that all eyes were suddenly staring in her direction. Staring at her, in fact. Janet stood apart from the group, speaking authoritatively and aimed a pointed finger at Catherine. Heads turned and eyes scrutinized. Catherine swallowed what felt like an entire hard-boiled egg.

  Janet broke from the group, marching in a straight line directly for Catherine.

  “Uh oh,” Josh teased. “Looks like you did something to piss of the principal. I wonder if you’ll get suspended.”

  “Hardy har,” Catherine said, her eyes locking with Janet’s purposeful stare as she approached. But as Janet neared, Catherine detected an expression on her sweaty face void of any malicious intent or ill will. No, what Catherine perceived was concern. And maybe, just maybe, a tinge of fear.

  “Catherine,” Janet said, huffing slightly. “Would you come with me, please?”

  The man’s name was Alvin DeTroix. And from the looks of things, he’d had one hell of a night. His clothing was still intact and appeared relatively new, it hanging loosely from the man’s lean frame. His body seemed to be free of injury and Catherine noticed that there wasn’t so much as a blemish on the man’s clean-shaven face. By all indications he projected the ideal of perfect health. But it was his eyes. Deep set and haunted as they stared into space, the empty gaze told the tale of a man who had seen more than his spirit could bear.

  “They’re gone,” he mumbled dryly. “They’re all gone.”

  “Let’s take it easy, Alvin,” Janet said, turning to a young man shouldering a rifle. “Get him some water, would you?” The young man nodded and tro
tted away. Janet placed a blanket over Alvin’s shoulders.

  “I’m not cold,” he muttered.

  “But you’re extremely dehydrated and you’re soaking wet.” Janet said. “Hypothermia’s still a risk.”

  “You should’ve been a mother, you know that?” Alvin kidded.

  “Oh, I’m a mother all right. Just of a different variety.”

  This elicited a puff of low-grade laughter from the group, even forcing Alvin’s cracked lips to curve into a spare smile and reveal the yellowed teeth behind them.

  The young man with the rifle returned with the water, handing it instantly to Janet. Janet cracked the lid and passed it to Alvin who drank deeply. Janet grabbed the bottle, restraining the flow of water into his mouth.

  “Take it easy, Alvin. Small sips.”

  He blinked agreeably and took several pulls from the bottle before setting it in front of him. Janet pulled up a chair and sat directly across from him.

  “Now, I want you to tell her what you just told me.” Janet hooked her thumb at Catherine who felt as if a spotlight had suddenly been turned on her.

  Alvin bowed his head and stared blankly in front of him. “They came at night.”

  Janet snapped her head up at Catherine as if this revelation should have had some impact. But Catherine returned the stare with eyes that indicated she required an explanation.

  “Alvin’s from over at Apache Camp,” Janet started. “About a hundred fifty or so people holed up in a Costco. Your next question might be ‘why was it called Apache Camp?’ And for an accurate reply I would direct you to the Native American gentleman who established the colony there. But from the sounds of Alvin’s story it doesn’t sound like you’ll get that answer any time soon.”

  Alvin tensed and clenched his fists. He reached for his water and took a longer drink.

  Catherine looked from Janet to Alvin struggling to comprehend what any of this had to do with her. It was certainly tragic whatever had happened to the souls of Apache Camp, but how did she fit into the big picture? Why had Janet plucked her from the crowd as if she could provide any further bearing on the situation?

  “So you see,” Janet said, “that’s why we really need you to try and remember.”

  Catherine narrowed her eyes, her head sinking just a hair as the impact of Janet’s words bounced off her like a rubber ball to a wall, the meaning and implication completely alien.

  “I’m sorry, Janet. I don’t mean to be dense,” Catherine said. “But I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Janet stood suddenly, knocking over her chair inadvertently and startling Catherine.

  “Don’t you see what’s going on here?” Janet said, her irritation no longer disguised.

  “I guess I don’t,” Catherine said defiantly.

  “They attacked at night. Wanna guess how they did it?”

  “I don’t know...I thought those things needed light to—”

  “Very good,” Janet spat condescendingly. “Bingo. You’re not as dumb as you look after all.”

  Catherine’s eyes began to water in intimidation. Janet’s rant had shocked her, both in its insulting manner and its seemingly unprovoked suddenness. She recognized this behavior had probably been born out of stress, uncertainty and fear at Alvin’s arrival. But she’d be damned if she would let a single tear roll down her cheek in front of everyone, especially Janet.

  “Look,” Catherine said trying to remain calm, “I know this is a stressful moment, but I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “I want you to help us save this community the way we saved you, you stupid bitch!”

  It may as well have been a smack in the face. Catherine’s face flushed a rosy pink as Janet turned away from her, cursing inaudibly to herself. It was clear that whatever connection or friendship Catherine thought she and Janet shared was merely a mirage. Under times of intense stress, the true nature of a person always revealed itself. And Janet was a textbook case.

  Alvin reached up and laid a reassuring hand on Janet’s pulsing forearm as she tried to calm herself. He looked up at Catherine with eyes that no longer exhibited glazed-over devastation, but now registered a deep sense of compassion.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Catherine. Catherine Hayesly.”

  “Don’t let this one give you any grief,” he said, indicating Janet with a nod of his head. “She may bark loud, but she’s as gentle as a Saint Bernard with newborn pups.” Janet pushed away Alvin’s arm semi-seriously, but Alvin’s hand found its place again.

  Catherine grinned just a touch. “I’m sorry to hear about your people, it’s just that...I really don’t understand what’s happened.”

  “What’s happened is that the night no longer belongs to us,” Alvin said soberly. “There’s nowhere to hide anymore. No one is safe.” Alvin sat upright then reclined back, his splayed legs and slumped posture indicating a man both physically and spiritually beaten.

  “They snuck up on us tonight. In the dark and without warning. Dozens of them. Maybe a hundred.” Alvin ran the palm of his hand over his hair. “We saw the lights. Off in the distance. And we could hear the motors. We just thought they were night stragglers, you know? Just some more misplaced people looking for a home. But the lights...the lights were so bright. Maybe we should’ve known. And when the vehicle or machine or whatever it was pulled into the parking lot led by all of those...things, we knew our time had come. There was no escaping.” Alvin grabbed the nape of his neck with his hand, cradling his elbow with his other arm. “Jesus, there were so many of them.”

  Catherine knelt in front of Alvin and placed a hand on his knee. Janet turned back around and faced Alvin as well. Catherine could feel the poking glances from Janet like taps on the shoulder, subtly trying to gain attention.

  Alvin leaned forward. “They just attacked. Charged in from everywhere. But, but it wasn’t violent. Not the way it could’ve been. These things just grabbed people, touched them on the shoulder or the arm and they fell over sideways. Like they’d just been hit with a tranquilizer dart. And I saw some of them fall as well. Those things. If they left the vicinity of the light they would collapse. Wither and lay motionless. But they didn’t seem to care. Like they were kamikaze or something. And when everyone panicked and started fleeing the store trying to escape I knew Apache Camp was finished. It was probably the worst thing we could’ve done.”

  “Tell me about the lights, Alvin,” Janet said, her composure regained. “What did you see?”

  “Truth be told, not much. It was just so bright. Like this mobile column of light. Or a small building or something.” Alvin straightened. “It was definitely constructed, whatever it was. And like I said, I could hear motors. Loud ones. Like the ones semis use. However they did it, it was impressive and effective. And it fucked us all.”

  “But why attack at night?” Janet queried to no one in particular. “Why go through the hassle of transporting this building of light or whatever it is? Why not just attack during the day?”

  “Because they’ve evolved,” Catherine said flatly. “From the sounds of things they’ve not only mastered some mechanical and electrical ingenuity, but also some mental acuity as well. I think on some level they knew their grandiose and sudden arrival would spark panic in the people of Apache. Alvin is probably right. If these things truly need light to survive then the safest place anyone could’ve stayed was inside the store. But fear overrode common sense, I think. As it would have for any of us.” Janet’s scowl of discontent softened a skosh at Catherine’s words, her eyebrows arcing into receptive curves. “The question that I have is, why now?”

  Janet turned away from the group, her ratty thumb finding her mouth. She spun back around and looked at Catherine. “Is there anything, Catherine? Anything at all?” she said peaceably.

  “There was nothing, Janet. Only a swath of light on the horizon,” Catherine said with a steady voice. “No people. No sounds. Knowing what we know now,
I’d have to say that what we witnessed was a test. A quick flick of the ‘on’ switch.”

  A young pseudo-soldier dressed head to toe in black stepped forward, his hands clenched firmly on his machine gun. “How can that be?” he said aggressively, turning heads in his direction. “If they’re running tests, how the fuck are they able to survive before it’s turned on and after it’s turned off? They’d be in the dark.”

  Janet directed her eyes to Catherine, as did Alvin and the remainder of the group. In this moment, Catherine became painfully aware of the fact that she had now been designated the Person With the Answers.

  “I’m not really sure,” she said. “But my feeling is that if they’re able to construct a movable building of light, they had most likely built smaller versions of the same thing to sustain them while they worked.” Catherine’s eyes darted over the group. “Look, everyone, these are just theories. You all have far more experience dealing with these...New Humans as you call them, than I have. I’m only speculating.”

  “But sometimes it takes a pair of fresh eyes to see the forest for the trees,” Alvin commented. “And as far as I’m concerned, all bets are off on what we think we know.”

  Janet stared emptily into space. “All right, look everyone,” she said as she faced the group, their faces fraught with worry. “Let’s finish out the day and talk about this tonight when we’ve all had a chance to process everything. We’ll come up with a plan of action. Meanwhile, Alvin? Better get some rest because we’re gonna be looking to you for information. Everyone else, just finish out your shift. Now more than ever we can’t afford to let our—”

  The walkie on Janet’s belt cracked with static.