The Sleep of the Gods

by James Sperl

  “Catherine,” a voice said in front of her, redirecting her attention. She searched and found the Lawyer standing just out of the shadows. He faced her while the others continued their silent vigil in the opposite direction.

  “I just wanted to say,” the Lawyer began, “...it was a pleasure to meet you.”

  Catherine’s eyebrows lowered in a confused scowl. “What?”

  “I’d hoped for a different outcome between us. Maybe another time.”

  Draping the plastic over her head, Catherine peered out from underneath it. “Do you realize what’s about to happen to you? They’re going to kill every last one of you. For an enlightened being I find it difficult to believe you would just stand here and not try to save yourselves.”

  “Prepare yourself, Mrs. Hayesly!” came the First Sergeant’s voice. Catherine pulled the sheeting so just her face peeked out.

  “Even if we tried to run, do you really think we would get very far?” queried the Lawyer.

  “You might today.”

  The Lawyer swiped blood from his nose and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. “I remember before, when I was...different. I used to read. There was a quote from Plato that I recall resonated with me. ‘Death is not the worst that can happen to men’. I never really understood what that meant.” The Lawyer let his arms fall to his sides. “Until today.”

  “Fire!” the First Sergeant screamed.

  Catherine quickly ducked her head under the plastic as machine guns sprung to life. Metallic popping came from everywhere, the sickening sound of bullets hitting flesh rampant. High-pitched echoes rang as errant bullets ricocheted off the support poles. Sand thudded with the impact of missed shots.

  Shelby screamed, Leanne and Catherine clinging to her and each other as gore and blood spattered the exterior of the tarp.

  Little by little the firing ceased until all was quiet again. Catherine lifted her head and waited, her breathing an erratic series of gasps and exhales.

  “Mrs. Hayesly, are you all right?”

  Catherine peeled back the plastic carefully at the sound of the First Sergeant’s voice, making sure to avoid any contact with the blood tinted plastic.

  The scene before her was out of a Holocaust. Bodies were strewn about like mistreated rag dolls. Blood pooled into the sandy ground, limbs, torsos and heads devastated or missing.

  “We’re fine,” Catherine finally managed to reply.

  “Please step forward, ma’am. All of you. Quickly, please.”

  Peeling back the tarp gingerly from over Shelby and Leanne, Catherine raised Shelby to her feet. “Close your eyes if you need to, sweetie. Just hold onto me.”

  Soldiers shouldered their rifles and set to work on the gate. With an impressive sounding buzz, the bolts slid back, unlocking it. Three soldiers pushed the eight-foot high door open, three more rushing to the aid of Catherine, Shelby and Leanne. Five additional soldiers with arms at the ready charged into the carnage, their muzzles pointed at the bodies as if expecting some final assault.

  A muscular soldier took Catherine by the arm and escorted her through the minefield of tangled bodies, Leanne and Shelby each receiving their own personal accompaniment.

  It was the most surreal experience Catherine had ever encountered. Her mind swam in a murky haze of mixed emotions, equal parts euphoria, sadness and revulsion. So many people had died and so many more would follow in the coming minutes. But she would survive. Her family would survive.

  Glancing down she discovered the remains of the Lawyer. He lay face down in the sand, one arm shredded, his head bereft of a sizable portion. His final words would linger in her subconscious. And she would often ponder if there could have really ever been an understanding between the two species. It seemed that now they would never know.

  She floated on a cloud of shock as the soldier led her toward the gate. She was barely aware of her legs moving, only that the entrance was creeping ever closer, sanctuary only a few steps beyond it.

  Entering through the large metal fence, she noticed her son. Hunched and walking slowly, Josh was escorted along the walkway toward the stairwell at the far end of the barricade. His clothes were in tatters and he had suffered numerous cuts to his body. He looked like hell.

  Josh twisted painfully and caught the eye of his mother, who managed a sincere smile. He raised his arm with a closed fist and gestured lightly, like an amateur golfer who had just sunk a four-foot putt.

  Catherine’s senses rejoined her, the change in the earth beneath her feet recognizably different. The soft, sinking sand beyond the gate was replaced by firmer ground inside, metal grating covering every square inch of area between the barricades. For Catherine, it was both a literal and figurative distinction.

  Her footsteps thudded dully on the surface as she gained her stride. The soldier let go of her arm, but then immediately grabbed it again when Catherine stopped suddenly, the sight before her rendering her knees useless.

  Exiting the shelter, amid all the ensuing chaos of people, was a single person. A man.

  Catherine fixated on this individual.

  “Warren?” she whispered to herself, the disbelief giving way to reality. Then she screamed. “Warren!”

  Catherine broke free from the soldier’s grasp and raced over to the gaunt and frail man jogging toward her. Tears ran down her cheeks and she became filled with a state of indescribable elation.

  She slammed into him clumsily, her momentum knocking Warren askew from his step. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, months of uncertainty, pain and loneliness culminating in an uncontrollable flow of tears.

  Warren hugged his wife passionately, his arms encircling her body, unable to embrace her enough. He grabbed her head and she reared back, their mouths meeting in a flurry of sloppy and misdirected kisses, each person seemingly trying to devour the other. He pushed her head back onto his shoulder and cradled her gently.

  “Is it you?” Catherine blubbered. “Is it really you?”

  “God, I hope so,” Warren choked out.

  “The girls?” Catherine asked suddenly, fearfully.

  “They’re safe. Your friend Oliver got them here without a scratch.” Warren stroked her hair. “You did it, Catherine.”

  Catherine exhaled, accompanied by a torrent of tears.

  “Lieutenant Colonel, sir?”

  Warren released from his wife just enough to face the First Sergeant who stood beside him.

  “I’m sorry to be the one to inform you, sir, but I need you to remain at a distance from your wife.”

  Warren reacted as if he’d just taken a blow to the stomach. “Excuse me, First Sergeant?”

  The First Sergeant nodded knowingly, fully prepared for the direction the conversation was about to take. “Yes, sir. I know. But I have my orders. She and the others need to undergo testing and quarantine. Until she can be cleared she needs to be kept separate from—”

  Warren waved off the First Sergeant. “It would take more manpower than you have here to pry me away from my wife. I understand you have your orders. I know the quarantine procedure. She will comply.” Warren leaned toward the soldier, as if to reinforce his intent. “And so will I.”

  The First Sergeant offered the slightest of grins. “Yes, sir.” He held out his arm toward the entrance. “Please, sir, we need to get back inside immediately.”

  “Of course,” Warren said.

  Glancing beyond the comfort of Warren’s shoulder, Catherine discovered Josh slowly descending the stairs from atop the barricade. Turning and walking briskly toward the shelter entrance, Catherine directed Warren’s attention to their son.

  “Jesus,” he said simply, his wondrous eyes welling at the sight of his wounded and bleeding boy.

  “First Sergeant,” Warren barked.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Let’s get a medic down here. ASAP.”

  “Already on his way, sir.”

  Warren nodded. He held Catherine’s hand firmly as the two stepped i
nto the shadow of the shelter entrance. They waited at the bottom of the stairs as Josh descended the remaining steps with pained movements.

  Catherine swiped tears from her face. “How you doing, kiddo?” she called out in a tremulous voice, fully aware the question was both inane and ludicrous.

  Josh looked up at his mother and forced a smile. “Spectacular.” His eyes diverted to the line of soldiers retreating back into the shelter behind Shelby and Leanne, their job complete. Minutes ago the area had been a battleground. Now, it was a virtual ghost town. Save his parents and the two soldiers escorting him down, the area was clear.

  Josh locked on his father. “Hey, dad.”

  Warren tried, but couldn’t hold back, tears springing from his eyes. “Hey, Josh.” He swallowed, tried to force a jovial grin. “What did I tell you about playing in barbed wire? You...you could get hurt.” Warren’s smile evaporated, the aching hurt he felt usurping the vain attempt at jocularity.

  “You know us kids,” Josh said, reaching the final few steps. “We never listen.”

  Josh gingerly treaded the last step, arriving in front of his parents with a weakened shuffle. Warren and Catherine’s faces dropped like a ton of bricks. Josh’s injuries were far worse than they anticipated. Blood seemed to weep from everywhere, his skin wet with the red liquid.

  Warren composed himself then, with rage in his eyes, turned on the two soldiers who had just escorted Josh down.

  “Why in the hell hasn’t this man received any treatment!” he bellowed.

  The soldiers looked at one another, the stockier of the two taking the lead. “Sir, he’s a ‘Q’ risk. Our orders are to admit him to the infirmary then to quarantine until—”

  Warren howled at them. “This is my son!” He turned to the First Sergeant. “Get me a goddamned medic out here so we can stop his bleeding!”

  The First Sergeant stepped forward. “Sir, it may be faster if we just get him to the infirmary. I can have you all there within the minute.”

  “Fine. Let’s go.” Warren turned to Josh. “Think you can make it?”

  Josh nodded weakly.

  The First Sergeant turned on Warren’s cue. He bee-lined it into the shelter and cleared a path with all the intensity of a lunatic.

  Catherine stepped through the massive reinforced steel doors of the shelter. Cool, filtered air hit her in the face and were she not so exhausted and emotional, would probably have considered it orgasmic. Briefly, she took note of the miles of piping that snaked along the concrete walls of the corridor and watched in awe as the First Sergeant barked orders just ahead of them, people shifting to the side as if he were Moses parting the Red Sea.

  “You see, sweetie,” Catherine began, “we’ll be there in no time. Just keep moving. We’ll get you fixed...” she turned in mid-sentence and looked back toward Josh, expecting to find him struggling forward just behind her. But he wasn’t there.

  The cool air suddenly became an icy chill.

  Josh still stood outside the shelter, having moved not at all. Instead, he was bent over, one hand fingering his chest.

  Catherine could feel the blood leave her face and her mouth became like the desert she’d just left behind. With a trembling originating in her heart and radiating outward, she forced herself to look down at his feet. The tips of Josh’s toes—along with the rest of his body—remained just outside the boundary of the shadow formed by the mountain. He stood in broad sunlight and made no effort to change his position.

  “Josh?” Catherine said, walking toward him on wobbly legs.

  Warren turned at the sound of Catherine’s voice. His eyes danced between his wife and son, he still stationary outside the shelter, she wearing a mask of abject horror at the sight of him there.

  With great effort, Josh raised his head and looked at his parents. The truth resided in his eyes. And it was all they needed to see.

  “Josh!” Catherine wailed, sprinting toward him.

  Warren lunged for Catherine, gripping her by the wrist as she attempted to run. She flailed uncontrollably, her screams drawing the attention of the shelter residents, as well as the First Sergeant who now charged back in their direction.

  Warren wrapped his arms around his wife for the second time today, the embrace of longing now replaced with one of restraint and mourning.

  “Catherine, no,” Warren urged, his pale features somehow made even more so. “You can’t.”

  “Let me go!” she shouted. “Not my son!”

  Tears and snot wet Catherine’s face. She kicked wildly, desperately trying to free herself from Warren’s grip. In a sudden lunge she twisted to the side. Her momentum too much to bear, she and Warren toppled to the floor.

  “Not my son!” she hollered again as the First Sergeant arrived with a cadre of soldiers, they taking up guard positions along the entrance with all eyes on Josh.

  Josh stood upright and stared in at his parents writhing on the cold concrete floor; his mother attempted to crawl to him, his father tried everything in his power to prevent it.

  “Mom,” Josh uttered quietly. Then louder. “Mom.”

  Catherine froze and looked up at Josh. Her glassy, bloodshot eyes conveyed in a single look what Josh had always known. No matter what differences they’d had, no matter what side of the fence each had found themselves on, one thing had always been constant: the unconditional love of his mother. And it continued still. He watched her try to reach him willingly, struggling against his father to do so. Not for a moment did she consider her own safety, her only objective to be with him.

  And this caused Josh to cry.

  “I’m sorry, mom,” he said. “I wasn’t sure. I...I’m so sorry.”

  Tears streamed down Catherine’s face as Warren lay atop her, his face screwed in an agony.

  “How?” Catherine bawled. “When...?”

  Josh lifted his arm painfully and removed one of the gloves that had plagued Catherine’s curiosity the past few days. There, on the underside of his wrist, was the evidence: a two-inch long red gash, noticeable despite the blood.

  “The gas station,” he confessed, his voice losing strength. “The birds, they...I wanted to wait and see what happened to Janet...but when she died I...I got scared...” He winced in pain and cried out. “I don’t want to die, mom...I don’t want to—”

  Josh doubled over again suddenly and Catherine’s mind reeled. She was inundated with inescapable sorrow and a desperate need for understanding. How could it have happened? Why had it taken so long for him to show symptoms when Janet and Derrik had seemed to stay true to the incubation pattern? What was different? The questions lingered in her brain, colliding like bumper cars on an empty track.

  Josh looked up from his hunched position. “Mom...dad...”

  The First Sergeant glanced at his watch nervously. He stepped over to Warren, the tenuousness of the situation ever-present on his face. “Sir, I...I’m sorry, but we need to seal this portal immediately.”

  Warren snapped his head around to meet him, nodding slightly. He stared vacantly into space. This was not how he had envisioned the reunion. He had prepared himself for the likelihood of his family not making it to the shelter. It’s all he’d been doing for the last two months. He spoke with counselors regularly to find ways to put closure to that part of his life if and when the time came. But when his daughters arrived on the eve of Armageddon, all the despair he’d come to accept had been thrown out the window. And when they told him of Catherine and Josh’s proximity his spirit soared. He knew she would make it. Felt it, even. When word came over the COM system that more survivors had arrived, he’d known right away that it was Catherine. Their family would be together after all. It was a miracle.

  “Sir?” the First Sergeant said.

  Warren locked eyes with the soldier and rose to his feet. “I understand, First Sergeant.” He glanced down at Catherine who remained splayed on the floor, devastated. She stared helplessly at Josh, her crying unabated.

  “Please...�
� Josh whimpered. “Someone help me.”

  Warren turned his attention toward his damaged son, bleeding and suffering. He’d seen this scenario play out hundreds of times in the race to block the incubation process and discover a “cure”. But they’d all failed. And he knew what would soon occur.

  He swiped tears from his eyes. “I’m coming, Josh,” he said, looking at his son. He turned to the First Sergeant, keeping his voice low so as not to alert Catherine. “May I have your sidearm?”

  The First Sergeant’s face dropped. He reached into his holster and withdrew his nine-millimeter. He handed it to Warren determinedly.

  Warren took it in his palm then leaned in close to the First Sergeant’s ear. “Restrain my wife.”

  The First Sergeant nodded, offering no argument as to Catherine’s “Q” status. He gave silent orders to nearby soldiers who understood implicitly what was about to take place, they moving into place along Catherine’s blind side.

  Catherine pushed herself into a sitting position. She looked from Josh to Warren. Then she saw the gun.

  “What are you doing?” she said, her eyes flitting between the gun and Josh. “Warren?” Catherine began to stand. “What are you doing with that gun?” New tears formed in her eyes as she reached her feet. She took a step toward Warren and was immediately detained by the waiting soldiers.

  Her screams were unearthly.

  “Don’t you do this! Please, Warren! Not our son!”

  Warren tried valiantly to block his wife’s shrieking pleas from his mind. He could hear her thrash and flail against the guards’ restraints, sobbing uncontrollably. But there was no other way. He knew it. And so did she.

  He stepped through the portal and approached his son.

  The pain in Josh’s chest was all consuming, every second a new experience in agony. It wouldn’t be long now.

  Josh tried to stand upright and face his father, but the constant torment in his body and sufficient blood loss had left him a shell of his former self.

  Bathed in cool shadow, Warren could only stare, the gun feeling like an anvil in his grip.

  “Hey...dad,” Josh muttered, twisting his head to see. “How you...been?”