The Sleep of the Gods

by James Sperl

  “Where are we?”

  Josh peered out the window again. “Looks like a barn or something. I think it’s morning.” He stared, again, at the beams of light.

  Light. Daytime.

  “Shit,” Josh muttered. “Mom,” he whispered harshly, turning to face a sleeping Catherine who cradled both Abby and Tamara. “Mom, wake up. It’s day—”

  “Take it easy, Josh,” a voice from the front said softly. Josh whipped his head around to find Janet in the front seat, her back against the windows and her feet propped up. “We’re all right.”

  Catherine sat up, Tamara and Abby waking at her movement. “Josh?” she said groggily and rubbing her eyes. “What is it?”

  She squinted into the dusty barn where the bus was situated. She eyed the slivers of light passing through the rotting barn door, then looked to Janet.

  “It’s okay, Catherine,” Janet said. “No one knows we’re here.”

  Janet’s voice roused Madeline and Alvin, Oliver having sat up with a stretch at the sound of Catherine’s voice.

  “So what’s for breakfast?” Oliver said jovially, drawing random smiles.

  A knock sounded from the barn door. Everyone yelped as they hopped to their feet.

  “Relax,” Janet said. But the words soon lost their intent of assurance when Janet withdrew her nine-millimeter and crept stealthily to the sizeable barn doors. She withdrew a shovel from in between the handles of the splintery wood. Pointing her gun at the center of the doorway with her right hand she reaching for the handle with the left. Yanking it open, she thrust the weapon in the widening crack.

  Derrik strolled in, weapon in hand as he pushed past Janet’s weapon without a second’s hesitation.

  Janet peered past him and stared out into farm country. The sun had just started its ascent, creeping over the horizon. A small house—a two-story with a wrap-around porch and peeling white paint—lay adjacent to the barn along the western edge of an unplanted field. The pastures of land before her lay eerily quiet, a thin veil of mist hovering over the soil. There were no vehicles. No livestock. No sound. No life.

  She inhaled deeply, the fresh country air a welcome change from the squalid air of Bayview. Contented that Derrik was alone, Janet pulled the door shut with a grinding creak.

  “The house is clean,” Derrik said. “There’s not much left. Plenty of blankets, sheets, some first aid, batteries. But as far as food, somebody beat us to it.”

  Janet glared at the floor. “Hmm. Damn.”

  Inside the barn, the others had exited the bus. They stood in scattered groups, yawning and stretching, staring bleary-eyed at the floor. All looked up at Janet and Derrik’s approach.

  “What does that mean?” Madeline asked, surprisingly calm.

  “It means,” Janet began, “that other than what we have strapped to our backs, food could be a problem.”

  “But most of what’s in our packs isn’t food,” Oliver said. “I mean, shit, other than some canned goods, I’m carrying mostly kitchen supplies. Pots, pans, utensils.”

  “And all I’m holding is mostly pharmaceuticals,” Alvin added. “I’ve got some boxes of rice and pasta, but most everything else is pain relievers and first aid.”

  Janet scratched her cheek as she paced.

  “So, are we saying that we don’t have any food?” Madeline asked, panic escalating in her voice.

  Catherine stepped forward into the discussion, her arms around Tamara and Abby, who, sweating lightly, winced squeamishly as the conversation continued.

  “When we organized the evacuation, we grouped people by physical ability and the items we had to carry,” Janet said as she sat on an overturned bucket. “Group one through three was assigned water. Groups four through nine were assigned primarily food. Since most of what we had was dried, canned and jarred goods—heavy items when you combine them together—physical ability was, again, needed. Ten and eleven were assigned lighter items. Meds, cooking supplies, etcetera.”

  Abby stepped away from Catherine. She folded her arms over her stomach. Catherine looked down at her. “You okay, sweetie?” Abby nodded unconvincingly.

  “So you left the dregs to all us weaklings, that it?” Oliver said, kidding.

  “That’s not true and you know it,” Janet countered. “It’s just the way the numbers worked out in the end.”

  “So then what are we looking at?” Alvin queried the group. “Between all of our packs, what’ve we got? How many days’ worth?”

  Janet rose, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Do the math, Alvin. We got ten people here. Four of whom weren’t even supposed to be standing with us today.” Catherine wanted to avert her eyes, but maintained her composure. “So that leaves six packs,” Janet continued, “and most of them are loaded with miscellaneous odds and ends. Batteries, radios, soaps and the like.”

  Abby’s skin took on an alabaster pallor. She began to shiver as her hands tightened on her stomach. But no one noticed.

  “As far as fuel goes, we should be okay for a while,” Janet continued. “Back when we first anticipated having to use the bus, we stowed two drums in the rear and kept them full. Figured in an emergency, staying mobile would be the most important thing. We could always scavenge for food, grabbing what we could before we hightailed out of wherever we found ourselves. But now...today...”

  Janet shook her head in a moment of absurd realization. She walked over to Madeline, her feet crunching on bits of dried hay. “To answer your question—how much food do we have? Let’s just say I’d plan on being hungry.”

  Abby turned and sprinted around the far side of the bus. Catherine, stunned at her sudden departure, trotted after her. The remaining group gazed at each other, their faces screwed in looks of confusion.

  Catherine rounded the bus and found Abby, doubled over and retching violently. Her back arched in nauseated spasms as she emptied the contents of her stomach onto a rotted pile of apple cores and decayed oats.

  Catherine moved to her side and laid a hand on her back. “Honey, what’s wrong? What is it?”

  Abby recoiled, shuffling away. “Don’t touch me, mom. Please,” she said, open-jawed. Saliva streamed from her mouth onto the ground. She spat in overemphasized bursts of air.

  “Abby what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, okay? I just feel like shit that’s all.”

  “Is it like when you were on the boat? Maybe you’re still adjusting to land?”

  Abby shrugged, hands on knees.

  “I wish you would have said something. This is an awfully long time for you to be sick. For anyone. How could you still be so ill after all this...”

  The barn whirled around Catherine as realization burrowed into her brain. The air suddenly seemed depleted of oxygen, as if someone had clamped down on her jugular, the haze of unconsciousness soon to overtake her. She scrambled to find a seat before she fell over, but couldn’t manage it in time. She slumped to the floor gracelessly, looked at Abby with hurt-filled eyes.

  “Please tell me this isn’t true, Abby,” Catherine said. “It can’t be true.”

  Abby spat again then sat on the floor. Through watery eyes she glanced at her mother, unable to maintain contact. But it was all Catherine needed to see.

  “Jesus Christ,” Catherine muttered, covering her mouth with her hands. She stared unblinking at Abby. “Jesus Christ. How long have you known?”

  Abby traced shapes in the dirt with her finger. She brought her legs together and wrapped her arms around them.

  “Abby?”

  Abby looked up, a single tear streaming down her cheek. “Since about two weeks before we got on the boat.”

  Catherine’s eyes fell shut, her head shaking back and forth in tiny movements. “Three months,” she whispered to herself. Catherine thought of all that had transpired in the past three months. All of the stress, the trauma. All of the food Abby wasn’t eating. What kind of a toll had this taken? What effect would it all have on the...

  Catherine coul
dn’t bring herself to say the word even in her head. She rubbed her face and pulled back her hair. “Who was it?” she said. “Who’s the father?”

  “Taylor Meens,” Abby whispered.

  Taylor. Catherine had known at first glance the fifteen year-old skate rat was bad news. And it wasn’t in the generalized, stereotyped way skateboarders his age were used to being labeled. She could deal with the funky, mismatched ensembles, the two-tone hair and even the eye and nose piercings. These were just trends, she knew. No, it was in the way he treated her daughter. As if he were doing her a favor by associating himself with her. But cliques and social circles always won out over reason, especially when they involved impressionable teenage girls. And Abby was the dictionary definition.

  Catherine labored to her feet and paced. Abby watched her slyly, averting eye contact when she thought Catherine might look down upon her with a condemning gaze.

  Josh and Tamara appeared at the front of the bus along with Janet. “Mom, everything cool?” Josh said, watching Abby.

  Catherine peeked over at Abby then turned to Josh. “Everything’s fine. Could you do me a favor and dig some water out of my pack for your sister?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure,” Josh said suspiciously as he vanished back from whence he came.

  “Tamara,” Catherine started, “would you be a sweetie and sit with your sister for a few minutes? I need to speak with Janet.”

  “Okay,” Tamara said simply, immediately moving to Abby’s side and plopping down on the floor.

  “Everything all right, Catherine?” Janet asked.

  Catherine nodded, walking away from her children, and then nodded again indicating for Janet to follow. When out of earshot, Catherine turned to face Janet.

  “We need to talk. All of us.”

  “It’s just the craziest thing I’ve ever seen,” Oliver said. “I mean, did you get a look at their rigging? No rhyme or reason in the design. Just supports and crossbars placed willy-nilly all over the place.”

  “Same with the lighting,” Alvin added. “All random and mismatched. It was like a bad Mad Max movie or something.”

  Oliver took a swig from a water bottle, Madeline and Shelby listening while nibbling crackers. “Is this really what we’re up against? Portable lamps? Like a parade put on by the devil himself? It’s just...ridiculous.”

  “Why is it ridiculous?” Janet said as she and Catherine appeared from the front of the bus. Everyone spun around. “They need light to survive. Darkness is their weakness. They found a way to overcome it. Why is that so weird?”

  “Oh, come on, Janet,” Alvin said. “Trucks of light? It even sounds silly when I say it out loud. And I’ve actually seen these things.”

  “Well, then maybe you’re not putting it in the right perspective,” Catherine commented.

  Alvin narrowed his eyes, his thin eyebrows arching downward. “The right perspective?”

  “Look at us,” Catherine began. “Humans. We have tons of weaknesses. But we’ve found ways to overcome them. We drown underwater. So we created a way to breathe so we could swim there. We can’t fly and fall from the sky if we try. So we invented machines that allow us to do it. We would freeze, suffocate and implode in space, but we managed to find a way to protect ourselves against those elements. Humans have found a way to adapt to a number of places we were never intended to be. We’ve found ways to exist there and preserve our lives while we do it. Why should it be any different for these New Humans?”

  “You make a valid point, Catherine” Oliver said. “But in all honesty, that’s what creeps me out the most: that we may be too alike. For example, do they eat food? Because if they do we’re not only partially fucked, we’re royally fucked.” Oliver turned to Shelby apologetically. “Sorry.”

  Shelby smiled. Catherine walked closer. “Well, that’s something I wanted to talk to you all about.” The group perked up at this. “It seems that there’s been some...recent developments that have caused me to reconsider my course of action.”

  Everyone stared at each other uncomprehendingly. Derrik, who had up until this point remained a silent observer near the barn doors, meandered into the group, his head tilted slightly to one side as if to better capture the words exiting Catherine’s mouth.

  “Course of action?” Madeline repeated.

  Catherine inhaled, knew there was no turning back from the decision she’d made. Had she not been blindsided with the life altering news from Abby she would have proceeded as planned. But the sudden and unexpected revelation had thrown a monkey wrench into her and Warren’s agreed upon plot. There was no time to consider the implications. Warren would just have to respect her decision. And as he was so fond of saying, she would cross that bridge when, or if, she got there.

  “As you all know, last night my family and I were going to part ways with all of you and find a way to get back to our home to check and see if my husband was still alive. This was a lie.”

  Madeline and Shelby stood up slowly. Derrik walked closer. Janet glared at Catherine, anxiously awaiting her explanation and not at all surprised at her confession.

  “I told you all that because I didn’t...couldn’t let you know what it was I was going to do.”

  Oliver set his water down. “What is this, Catherine? What are you saying?”

  Catherine looked over everyone, landing on Janet’s scrutinizing gaze last. “I know where there’s food. Lots of it.”

  “What?” Alvin exclaimed. “Then what the hell are we waiting for? Let’s go and get it.”

  “That’s what I’m saying,” Oliver concurred. “At best, we’ve got two days’ worth of food that’ll feed all of us. And that’s if we stretch it. Where is this food?”

  “At my house,” Catherine said plainly.

  “Well, then I say let’s saddle up and get moving,” Oliver proclaimed.

  “Here, here,” added Alvin.

  “In case no one’s noticed,” Madeline began, “it’s light outside. We’d be sitting ducks.”

  Alvin and Oliver’s enthusiasm evaporated at this revelation.

  “We’ve got enough food to make it through the day,” Janet said. She looked at Catherine. “Are you sure it’s still there?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Then I say we just hold tight and make a break for it once nightfall hits. Drive under the cover of darkness. We’ll stick to back roads and keep the lights off.”

  Resounding mumbles of agreement rippled through the small group, all satisfied with the game plan. Catherine clenched her fists tightly.

  “Look, I appreciate your position. Really I do. But I need you to appreciate mine. I’ve got three children who need to eat. And now one of them, it seems, requires enough food for two.” Heads turned and gawked at one another. “And while we may have enough food to ‘get by’ until tonight, my preference is that we don’t wait. That we strike out now.”

  A simultaneous huff of disbelief exploded among the others.

  “You’re crazy,” Madeline accused.

  “I’m not going anywhere while the sun’s up,” Alvin declared.

  Catherine expected resistance to her suggestion, but it made no difference whether or not anyone agreed with her. Surprisingly, the person from whom Catherine had most anticipated a reaction remained inexplicably calm.

  Janet shoved her hands in her pockets. “Why the rush, Catherine? We have enough food. We can easily make it last through the day and probably for the next couple. Why take the risk of leaving now?”

  “Because there are no guarantees,” Catherine said flatly. “Two nights ago all of you were relatively comfortable back at Bayview. Life had resumed as normal a pace as it could during these times. But then all that changed. With the attack on Apache Camp and then the assault last night, the New Humans proved that nowhere was safe and everything you’d come to believe about them was wrong.”

  A relative silence enveloped the group. Eyes found the floor, stared reverently as if honoring the fallen citizens.

>   “With last night’s attack,” she continued, “they showed a resiliency and, if you ask me, a desperation. But what they also showed me was that anything was possible. And that all bets were off. Your safety net of nighttime has been taken from you. Why continue to scurry around in the darkness? They’ve already shown they can infiltrate it. Someone eventually needs to stick their neck out and see what the true nature of these things is. Now, I’m not saying we need to be cavalier about it, but we’ve got an imperative goal. And I don’t see how waiting for the sun to set buys us any advantage. If they want to get to us they can. It’s that simple.” She locked eyes with Janet. “What’s the risk, you asked? It’s everything we think could happen but mostly all of the things we haven’t even considered.”

  Tamara and Abby trudged up alongside Josh, Abby’s pasty, white arm slung over Tamara’s shoulder in a display of sibling solidarity.

  Catherine walked toward them and extended out her arm in a presentation-like manner. “This is my priority. This is my only priority. Now, I don’t mean to be a cold-hearted bitch, but let me be clear: this is not a negotiation. I am leaving with my family this morning. We’re nowhere near the city so I’m betting my odds of finding a working, gassed vehicle are pretty good. And if there are none here, then we’ll walk until we find one.”

  Catherine stood beside her family. Abby looked at her with tear-filled eyes. Catherine palmed her head, shoving back a lock of hair over her ear. “But mark my words, thirty minutes from now we will be a memory. I’m just hoping you all won’t let it come to that and you join us.”

  “Just out of curiosity,” Janet said, taking her hands out of her pockets and crossing them defiantly over her chest. “What’s to prevent me from putting a gun to your head, taking the key and getting the food myself.”

  Catherine’s pulse quickened at this statement, sweat immediately forming on her lips and brow. She glanced around the room somewhat relieved to witness similar expressions of shock on Alvin, Oliver, Madeline and Shelby’s faces.

  “Fuck you, bitch,” Josh spat, valiantly stepping forward. Catherine corralled him, moving in front of her children. Derrik put his hand on his weapon.