The Sleep of the Gods

by James Sperl

  “Well, for one,” Catherine started, desperately trying to maintain control of her quivering lip, “you don’t know where the key is or the location of the food the key unlocks. And if you think pointing a gun at me is going to get me to tell you, I’d rather you just pull the trigger. Because without that food we’re dead anyway. And without me and that key, you’ve effectively killed you and everyone else here.”

  Catherine stepped away from her children. She walked directly toward Janet who let her arms fall to her side.

  “But mostly what’s stopping you from putting a gun in my face is that, despite your judge-jury-and-executioner heroics regarding the men who attacked my family, you’re not a cold-blooded killer. Any fool can see that.”

  Catherine stared into Janet’s eyes, her confidence becoming more inflated with each word that left her tongue. Janet cracked the wryest of smiles. She turned to Derrik. “What do you think, D?”

  Derrik pushed the barrel of his weapon to the floor and uttered his first words of the discussion: “When do we leave?”

  13

  Home

  It took two hours to reach Catherine’s neighborhood. In the frenzied retreat that followed the midnight melee of Bayview, Oliver had charged hard for the nearest freeway exit. It didn’t matter where it led. His reasoning, solid as it was, was that highways would be the most unencumbered artery and would allow the quickest means of putting distance between the bus and downtown. It was alert thinking. The only problem was that Catherine’s home lay on the other side of the city, virtually equidistant in the opposite direction from where they holed up for the night.

  The ride had been an exercise in easing tensions. While initially suspecting that there would be ill will towards her stouthearted position, Catherine found the overall timbre of the bus to incline in her favor, a general sense of unease regarding Janet’s uncalled-for threats lingering in the air like a bad perfume. Janet had tried to play down her transgression by engaging in light banter with everyone as the bus moved along. But Catherine could tell there had been a shift in allegiance. And this had not been lost on Janet.

  The ride, to everyone’s delight, had been largely uneventful. By sticking to the highways and moving fast, they had managed to avoid contact of any sort. Other than the ten souls packed into Jared County bus number seventeen, there had been no sign of either man or New Human.

  Catherine had spiritually exhaled a sigh of relief at their incident-free progress. She knew it would have been risky the minute she proposed it, but she stood by her assertions regarding the benefits of daytime travel. So far—fingers crossed—all had gone well. But now that they had left the relative comfort of the freeway and snaked along the more exposed Summit Ridge Parkway, she could feel tension rising again.

  She stood beside Oliver as he drove, scouting what used to be her old neighborhood. Other than the handfuls of abandoned vehicles scattered about, Alemonte had been spared the alarming devastation of downtown. The landscaping was a bit unruly along the boulevard center divider, the majority of hydrangeas and roses having long since perished from thirst. Weeds and grass grew out of control as did the overhanging dogwood and maple trees, their ubiquitous species lining the drive.

  “Stop here,” Catherine said. Oliver slowed the bus much to the chagrin of the remaining passengers, they glancing about uneasily as the bus rolled to a stop. Janet moved up beside Catherine with a pair of binoculars.

  “That’s it there,” Catherine said, pointing through the windshield. “It’s about a mile from here into the community itself. Once we pass through the main gate it’s a straight shot three blocks in.”

  Janet put the binoculars to her eyes. “Good,” she said. “That’ll make for an easier escape.”

  Catherine knew that last comment was meant for her, but at this point could care less about Janet’s misgivings. She was a mile from achieving her goal. She only hoped the ease with which they arrived could be maintained until they procured every last scrap of food. And, of course, the key.

  Janet lowered the binoculars. “I sure hope we don’t live to regret this.” Catherine looked away. Janet patted Oliver on the shoulder. “Make it so, number one.”

  Oliver released the brakes and threw the bus into first. It drove along the parkway until it reached a prominent and fancy sign, which read Alemonte, the foot high, white letters still immaculate against the sandblasted oak background.

  The bus turned in front of it.

  Passing under the imposing stone archway, which led into the heart of Alemonte, Catherine couldn’t help but feel a tinge of embarrassment at the excessiveness of her former community. Cobblestoned streets. Faux antique sidewalk gaslights. Even a security checkpoint requiring key card access—but this wouldn’t be necessary today.

  The bus rolled through the broken entry gate of Alemonte subdivision, the tires crushing the downed barricade beneath its weight as it entered.

  “Nice place,” Janet said, each word dripping with sarcasm. She leaned toward Derrik, he standing on the first step of the doorway and staring vigilantly out beyond the glass, hands wrapped around his Uzi.

  The bus crept along at a snail’s pace. It puttered up Alemonte Avenue when Catherine realized she had been wrong in her initial assessment. From Summit Ridge Parkway the damage appeared minimal, but rolling through the battered neighborhood revealed a much harsher truth.

  Catherine peered out at what used to be Dr. and Mrs. Allain’s beautiful and envy-inducing three-story Queen Anne style Victorian home. Complete with a grand porch and rounded tower, the moss and rust colored residence had been a stunning standard bearer for the entire community. Promises of what lay ahead. But at some point in the chaos that followed those early dark days, a fire had claimed it, gutting the majority and blanketing what little of the structure remained in a veil of carbon.

  The bus idled laboriously slow as Oliver guided it along Alemonte, dodging and weaving around more abandoned cars and miscellaneous debris strewn in the road.

  “Where’re we going, Catherine?” Janet said, the irritation in her voice not so cleverly disguised.

  “Third street on the right. Spruce Lane,” Catherine said, Oliver nodding his understanding. She swallowed with effort, not altogether sure she wanted to learn the fate of the place she used to call home.

  She turned and checked on her children, having given them zero thought since they began the approach into the subdivision. Tamara sat under the protective arm of her sister, both girls agape at the devastation before them. This was a place they had known. Had run and played with friends. Now it was a lifeless junkyard. Overrun and depleted.

  Josh chewed on his lip viciously, his eyes filling with water. He looked up suddenly and caught Catherine staring at him. He quickly dabbed at his eyes with the sleeve from his T-shirt then turned back to the window, drawn to it like a fly to a bug zapper. He pointed to a two-story home. The windows facing the road were all shattered, the front door wide open. A BMW sat cockeyed, half in and half out of the garage, the garage door itself lying in a folded metal sheet beside the car.

  “That’s the Samson house,” Josh said, stunned.

  Catherine could only nod, for what else was there to say?

  The bus turned slowly onto Spruce Lane. Catherine gripped the rail behind Oliver to keep balance, the bus straightening its course onto a wide paved road.

  Catherine shut her eyes and gnawed her thumbnail.

  “Which one is it, Catherine?” Oliver said delicately.

  “It’s on the corner,” she said, eyes still clamped. “The stone and lavender one.” Catherine inhaled then popped her eyes open. She glared out the window and looked instinctively in the direction of her home. Her hands rushed to her mouth in a failed attempt to stifle the moan that had been lurking since arriving in Alemonte.

  Josh stepped up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Catherine turned away from what used to be her home and buried her head on Josh’s shoulder. Abby swiped away silent tears as
well. Tamara stared numbly out the window, her face a mixture of saddened confusion and astonishment.

  Oliver guided the bus into the arched driveway and applied the brakes. Fifteen feet of flagstone path away lay the front door to Catherine’s house. It was immediately apparent that at one time the property had been a lush wonderland of flowers and foliage. The pathway was lined on either side by overgrown rose bushes and the overhanging trellis was infused with unruly Clematis vine, which had most likely provided ample shade during the hot summer months. The landscaping along the façade had also been equally tended and manicured in its day. Deadened hydrangea blooms interspersed with unrecognizable boxwood shrubs were accented with bursts of color from a selection of other annual floral blooms.

  Derrik was the first off the bus, moving swiftly along the path to the front door. He checked his perimeter like a trained mercenary, sliding up alongside the mahogany double doors, his back to the wall. He checked the door, finding the wood around the knob and deadbolt splintered, the door itself hanging ajar.

  Derrik glanced to Janet still on the bus. He pointed to the door then pushed forward into the air with his free arm, palm out.

  Janet nodded, turned to the group on the bus. “All right, everyone. Lock ‘em if you got ‘em.” Janet pulled her nine-millimeter from her waistband and drew back the slide. Alvin and Oliver readied their rifles as Catherine dug her nine-millimeter from out of her backpack. Josh readied his Henry.

  Catherine briefly considered ordering her children to stay on the bus while she and the others checked the house. But the events of the past several days came screaming back at her. Who knew what they might find inside the house, but the idea of leaving her kids alone, sitting like ducks in a barrel was quashed before it even had a chance to formulate.

  “Take my hand,” Catherine said to Tamara. “And Abby? Stay by your brother. No debate.” Abby nodded meekly and got to her feet.

  “Everybody ready?” Janet asked of the group.

  “We don’t have a gun,” Shelby said nervously, clinging by her mother’s side. “Should we just stay here?”

  “I think that would be a bad idea,” Janet said matter-of-factly. “It’s bad enough we’ve got this big, bright yellow school bus sitting out here in the open. We don’t want to risk leaving anyone as an unnecessary target. Just stay close. You’ll be fine.”

  Shelby and Madeline nodded apprehensively. Josh leaned in between the two women. “You can stand by me if you like.” This earned him a heartfelt smile from Shelby and a puff of relief from Madeline.

  Janet cocked back the hammer on her gun, clutching it between both hands. She looked into the eight pairs of eyes that stared back at her, their faces running the gamut of emotions from adrenaline-fueled anxiety to unadulterated fear. She took a step down toward the exit.

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  Derrik was the first one in. Janet was hot on his heels as the two charged into the foyer of the Hayesly residence like a well-oiled machine, their guns trained in all the appropriate areas—corners, stairwells, doorways—each providing the other cover as they proceeded into a sizeable family room.

  Janet waved her weapon in a “go-ahead” waggle toward Derrik. Without a moment’s hesitation he pushed into the dining room and the adjoining kitchen, his arm steady, his gaze fixed.

  Janet watched him as he vanished around the end of the dining table, the outside light spilling in from the front door seemingly sucked up by the dark confines of the house. Janet back stepped to the door. She held out her arm, animatedly ushering the rest of the group holding position just outside with quick flicks of her gun hand. The group snaked in and gathered in the darkened foyer made immediately darker by the closing of the door.

  Catherine squinted in the black room. A dim glow of natural light seeped in from the hallway leading to where the kitchen was located. This was not an unusual occurrence as the windows in the kitchen looked out into the backyard and the pool and were void of drapes or blinds, Catherine long ago having won her argument with Warren over the use of window coverings in an area of the house where privacy was not an issue, but the desire for natural light was.

  But what intrigued Catherine was the lack of light from the sizable pane windows in the foyer and living room. While there had been heavy-duty drapes installed along the windows facing the street, the etched glass panels adjacent to the front door had no covering and should have provided some form of filtered daylight. But there was nothing.

  Derrik emerged in the hallway from the kitchen. His skulking shadow elicited heightened but ineffective responses from both Oliver and Alvin as they fumbled for their weapons.

  “Relax fellas,” Janet said with a hint of condescension. “It’s just Derrik.”

  “We’re clear,” he said dryly, his shape melding with the darkness as he neared. “Anyone got a match?”

  Catherine could see Janet’s murky silhouette search itself. A zip was heard then, moments later, a single flame popped on from the lighter Janet held. Extending it toward Derrik, the fire illuminated a propane lamp in his hands.

  “Not sure how much fuel we’ve got,” Derrik said, shaking the lamp gently. “Should be enough for awhile.”

  The light played off his face, highlighting his smooth features. Tamara watched Derrik wide-eyed from her position beside Catherine, and in the briefest of moments caught an emotionless wink directed her way as he located her small face in the dim light.

  Janet guided the flame under the glass and toward the mantle. The lantern grew in luminosity as the mantle ignited, Derrik adjusting the propane flow. He handed the lantern to Janet who held it out into the dark living room. As the light bounced off the walls, the answer to Catherine’s question regarding the windows was revealed. Someone, or someones, had utilized the home. And judging by the amount of trash and dirty clothing strewn about, Catherine guessed it had been for a significant amount of time.

  The windows had been boarded over from the inside with standard plywood sheeting. Probably the remnants of Warren’s tree house project for Tamara, Catherine pondered, which he had begun eons ago but was never able to find the time to complete. Nails and screws were riddled along the perimeter of each board in unmeasured and hurried placements. Janet stepped over to the boards, first to notice the writing on the raw wood. She held the lantern high, the light flooding the words written in both spray paint and black marker:

  Tanya, Barry, Wilson Jorgensen

  28 July 2009

  Heading north. Danigen.

  May God be with us

  Janet turned, held out the lantern toward Catherine. “You know these people?”

  Catherine shook her head, a stunned sense of invasiveness overcoming her. These strangers had lived in her home. Had camped here, having arrived from who knew where. Why had they chosen this house?, Catherine thought to herself uneasily. And what had become of theirs? To Catherine, it seemed there would never again be a period of complacency in her life. The constant introduction of shock and awe seemed to be a permanent fixture of daily existence, testing her will and, to some degree, her sanity.

  Janet swung the lamp around and discovered the stairwell leading to the second floor.

  “Derrik,” she said, “we need to clear the upstairs. Alvin, you mind accompanying?”

  “Not at all,” Alvin replied, a hint of resignation in his voice.

  Janet whirled back around to Catherine. “What’s the layout?”

  It took Catherine a moment to register the question. The intrusive discovery still weighed heavily on her mind. But more than the distress of seeing her home in shambles, she, quite simply, couldn’t remember.

  “Two bedrooms and a bath to the left,” Josh answered, coming to his mother’s aid. “Master bedroom, bath and study to the right. There’re are two closets in the hall.”

  Janet handed the lantern to Derrik without a word. Taking it, he quickstepped over to the stairs and ascended them fluidly, Alvin on his six. The light evaporated at the
top of the stairs into the hallway leaving the remaining survivors back in the dark.

  As Derrik proceeded up the stairs and the light from the lantern danced over the living room, Catherine tried not to think about the charred patches of carpet or the greasy mini Hibachi grill she saw upended, the coal and ash spilled carelessly onto the floor. She fought the urge to investigate the two buckets full of putrid liquid located beside the entertainment center or ascertain which blankets and sheets had been selected from her linen closet that now lay soiled and crumpled in disheveled piles.

  Josh’s voice broke through the darkness. “You said that guy was a UPS driver?”

  Janet chuckled. “Hard to believe, I know.”

  “It just puts a whole new spin on the slogan, ‘What can brown do for you?’”

  The resulting laughter was a welcome diversion and as effective as a drug, the tension in the air having been lessened.

  Despite Catherine’s inability to see Janet, she could sense the woman had faced her. “All right, Catherine,” she said, confirming Catherine’s suspicions. “It’s your show. Let’s get that key.”

  Catherine nodded and walked toward the kitchen.

  It was still there. Right above the doorjamb where Warren had hidden it so many months ago. Her fingers finding the handle, Catherine reached the extra inches required to fully grasp the miniature screwdriver. Josh helped her down from a barstool in front of the kitchen entrance, his face representative of the curious disbelief he shared with Tamara and Abby.

  The light was much better in the kitchen. The sunlight filled the room comfortably, rendering flashlights and lanterns unnecessary.

  Oliver moved from cupboard to cupboard, opening and closing doors in rapid succession. Perusing the last of the shelves, he flung the pantry door closed with exasperation. “Well, no surprise, but the food’s been completely cleaned out.”