Sleepers Read online

  “I can’t . . .” I sniffed a sluggish inhale. “Smell a thing. I’m stuffy.”

  “I was too, until I came out here.” His voice was soft laced with a hint of country. “You sure you don’t want to sit down.” He raised some.

  “Stay seated. “ I’ll sit on the ground. I’m good.”

  “Don’t you even think about it.” At that point he stood and inched away from his little folding seat. “I’ll sit on the ground. Please.” He held out his hand.

  “Thank you.” I accepted his offer. The moment I sat, I started sniffing more. I brought the back of my hand to my nose.

  “Here” He reached into his back pocket. He had one of those little packs of tissues and he pulled a couple out for me and extended them as he sat on the ground.

  I looked at the tissues for a moment. They were just tissues, but to me, such a simple gesture seemed to mean so much. “Thanks, I’ve been crying a lot.”

  “Yep.” He winked with a heavy sigh. “Me, too.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Aren’t we all?”

  Taking a moment with the tissues, I stared out again to the activity. “I wonder what’s going on out there.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to decipher it. No luck.”

  There were fragments of silence within our skeletal conversation. Both of us overwhelmed, too tired or too emotional to talk. We’d stare out then one of us would say something, almost as if it were obligatory because we were sitting together out there.

  “Are you from around here?” I asked.

  “No. Outside of Chicago. I uh, stopped here for rest. Figure I’d move on and hit my destination before curfew tomorrow.”

  “And that is?”

  “The ocean.” He shrugged. “A beach out east would work.”

  “Are you looking for family?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I lost everyone.”

  Saying ‘I’m sorry’ was appropriate, but it didn’t cut it. I knew that myself. “Can I ask you a question?” I waited for his nod. “Do you think it’s the end of the world?”

  To my surprise he shook his head with certainty. “Nah, I think it’s the start of a new one. But I can tell you I don’t like it much. I don’t like it at all.”

  Again it was silent. In fact we waded in silence a lot in the hour that he and I sat outside. But I did learn about him. His name was Randy Briggs, an Insurance adjuster from Cedar, Illinois. He told me he waited his entire life to find that one woman and it took him until he was in his forties. He had two daughters with her, both under ten years old. Both of them taken in the event. His wife wasn’t a Sleeper, she just couldn’t take the pain of losing her children and she took her own life.

  As he told the story I could envision it all. He held that gun as well to his temple, but couldn’t pull the trigger. I knew his pain. My God, did I know his pain. Now all he wanted was to go east, sit on the sand, watch the ocean and hope for death. He said maybe while sitting there’d he drum up the courage to just walk in the ocean and let the waves take him. An easy death, considering he didn’t swim.

  He called himself a coward for not taking his own life. I suggested that perhaps there was a reason and there was something else planned for him. Those were the only words I could offer.

  Randy wasn’t looking for pity; he didn’t strike me as that type of man. He was talking to me, that’s all. Making conversation.

  It neared four a.m. and I started to get tired again. I hoped I could grab one more hour of sleep before we were free to go. Randy returned to his little chair and as I headed inside, I stopped to thank him.

  He only nodded.

  “Randy, I know you have a plan in motion, the beach and all, but, if you want to put that on hold or feel you just aren’t ready for that yet, you are more than welcome to join us.”

  “That’s pretty nice of you. Thank you.”

  I gave him one of those closed mouth smiles and turned.

  “Mera,” he called my name.

  I stopped before going in. “Yes?”

  “You’re going west because you’re pretty certain your daughter’s alive, right?”

  “We are. Why do you ask?”

  Randy shook his head. ‘No particular reason. Just checking. That’s uh, that’s a pretty positive goal. Just a little envious. Good luck to you.”

  “You too, Randy. You too.” And with that, I returned to the stifling Fire Hall.

  15. Run

  I never did catch the smell Randy spoke about. Not at least while we were outside. Sometime during my rest, my ability to breathe through my nose returned. The scent of something putrid and sour caused me to wake. In fact, it caused Danny and Bill to stir at the same time.

  “God.” Danny winced. “What is that smell.”

  I turned my head as another wave of odor entered along with a breeze. I peered around Danny to see the front doors were wide open.

  Bill’s, ‘What’s going on?’ drew my attention. Then I saw. People were grabbing things. Moving about. One thing was different. There wasn’t a soldier in sight.

  Bill glanced at his watch. “It’s not even six, yet.”

  Hurriedly, Danny jumped and grabbed his bag, whipping his phone charger from the wall in the same motion. “Let’s go. Something is wrong.”

  It was a moment of ‘stuff and go’, shoving what we could into open bags, grabbing them into our arms to make a hastened escape.

  “The back door,” I instructed when I saw Danny and Bill moving toward the front.

  A refugee center once full with a hundred people plus soldiers was thinning down and we moved against the grain of refugees to get to the back.

  With our items in tow, we hustled into the kitchen area and out that door; still at that point I had not seen a soldier.

  The second we stepped outside, I spotted my SUV. It was all the way in the back of the lot near the garages where they kept the fire trucks. There were three or four other vehicles there. I could see our boxes, as promised, next to the SUV. But I didn’t see any people. The moment we started moving quickly toward the car, I heard a gunshot, then two; they were sporadic.

  It made us run the rest of the way.

  “Open the hatch,” Bill ordered. I saw him trip a little and catch his balance in his charge to the back of the SUV with Danny. “Pop it.”

  I opened the driver’s door and reached for the lever.

  “Mera!” my name s was called in the distance.

  As I popped the hatch and stepped from the car door I saw Randy running our way.

  “Randy?” I questioned. “I thought you left.”

  “I tried. My car is useless. Does the offer still stand?” He asked, speaking rushed and out of breath. “Can I come with you? Please. I can’t stay here.”

  “Absolutely.” I replied. “Put your bag in the back.”

  It was happening so fast. I didn’t notice at the time the fear in Randy’s voice. I just wanted to move. The gunfire increased. The feeling of ‘we had to go’ took over and I hurried to the back to help put the boxes and bags inside.

  “Fuck.” Danny exclaimed. “It’s not here.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “The guns, they kept the guns.”

  Randy lifted his bag onto the back floor of the SUV. “I have weapons.” He unzipped his bag. “Two.” He lifted a handgun and handed it to Bill.” It’s loaded. Safety is on.”

  I grabbed another box, just tossing it in. “This is Randy, he’ll be joining us.” I introduced. “He’ll be . . .” I stopped when I spotted him walking from the back of the garage. He moved slowly.

  As Bill placed one of the final boxes in, he looked over his shoulder. “A Sleeper.”

  Something changed on Randy’s face; he swung a point to Bill, shouted, “Get in the car. I got this.” He shot a stern look to me. “Mera. Get ready to go. Now.”

  I didn’t understand what the big concern was. Yes, the man was clearly inflicted with the sleeping sickness, but he looke
d harmless. He just stared and moved slowly.

  There was one canister of gas; it was closer to the sleeper. Danny stepped to it.

  “No.” Randy tugged him? “Leave it. Get in the car. Now. Mera. Drive.”

  My mouth was forming the words to question and in typical Danny fashion, he defied an adult and with a sarcastic, “he’s harmless,’ reached for the gas can.

  The sleeper lunged fast at Danny, growling out and biting down hard on Danny’s reaching arm.

  Danny screamed. I screamed, took a step to my son, and before I knew it, Randy had extended his weapon, shot the Sleeper and grabbed Danny.

  “Mera! Go!” Randy yelled as he lifted my son.

  I took a step back, barely able to breathe, frightened beyond what I could even comprehend, and as I spun . . . slam! I hit right into the Major.

  “Get in. Drive now. Fast,” he said and reached hurriedly for the back door.

  “My son . . . he . . .”

  “Drive!”

  After a quick glance to see for Danny, I jumped in the driver’s seat, closed the door and fumbled for the keys as Bill got in the passenger side.

  Between peering to the mirror to make sure everyone was in, no matter how hard I tried, my hands shook so badly, I couldn’t get the keys into the ignition.

  Bill reached over, grabbed my hand and aided me. “Drive.” he said calmly.

  I nodded and started the car and then placed it in gear. Such a simple task seemed impossible to complete. My foot depressed the gas, but I couldn’t focus on driving, only on my son.

  Bill looked toward the back. “How is he?”

  “Bleeding badly,” Randy said.

  “I’m fine.” Danny argued. “Really.”

  My son had been bitten. All I could think about was that an infected person bit him. “Is he gonna get sick?” I asked.

  The Major was the one to answer me. “I don’t know. Hopefully not. Sir, help lift him up here with me.”

  Eyes again to the rear view mirror, I watched Danny roll onto the back seat, and heard the unzipping of a bag.

  The Major said, “I have you. Hold still. Get me that water, sir.”

  I wanted badly to see what was going on. I couldn’t. I could only listen to the voices of the Major and Randy as they performed first aid on my son.

  “This might sting,” The major told Danny.

  Danny grunted. “I’m good. I’m good.”

  “Here, use this shirt,” Randy said.

  “Thanks. Why are you driving so slow?” The Major questioned. “Pick it up please.”

  I nodded. I’m sure he didn’t see it. My eyes lifted to the ripping sound.

  Bill asked. “What’s that?”

  “Field dressing. Temporary, that’s why she has to drive faster,” The Major said. “Ma’am, please.”

  I looked at the speedometer. I was barely going ten miles an hour. What was wrong with me? I turned the bend to the final stage of the parking lot and instead of hitting the gas, I instinctively hit the brake.

  Just at the edge of the lot pandemonium ensued. A wall of people formed a blockade that was nothing short of an all-out violent confrontation. Fists flew, people screamed, there were four or five people attacking one woman. It appeared as if a riot broke out with no means of control. Smoke rose from two or three cars. I saw soldiers on the ground, dead. Two men engaged in a tug of war over another man, it resulted in them giving up and throwing him to the ground, pouncing on his as he helplessly hit the pavement.

  Breathless I spoke out, “Oh my God.”

  “What?” Bill asked then turned his views from the back of our vehicle to look out the windshield. “Holy shit.”

  “Drive.” The Major ordered. “We have to get your kid somewhere I can clean up this wound and stitch him. Drive.”

  My first thought was how. How was I supposed to get around these people who had the parking lot blocked?

  Then it seemed as if some yelled, ‘stop’ because suddenly every single being in that lot halted what they were doing and turned to look at us.

  “Oh my God,” I repeated.

  “Drive!” The Major shouted.

  “Shit, Mera,” Bill yelled. “Drive. Drive.”

  “I can’t get through them!” I argued. “They’re blocking our way.”

  Every single person and there were hundreds, flew toward us.

  “Hit them,” Bill instructed.

  “I can’t, they’re people . . .”

  Suddenly the Major’s face inserted between the front seats. “Hit the fucking gas now and plow through them if you have to but get us out of here. Now!”

  The blasting of his final word caused me to slam my foot to the gas and the SUV jolted then sped forward.

  I saw the edge of the parking lot and made that my goal. The people grew closer, running at us in attack mode.

  “Don’t stop.” Bill said his hand on the dashboard. “Please. Just go. It’s ok.”

  It wasn’t ok. I was moving at top speed, there was no way I could stop and the second the front end of my vehicle made contact with a person, a sickening knot formed in my gut with the ‘thump’ sound of the body hitting the car.

  They weren’t animals or things, they were people and at that second that was all I could view them as. My entire being shuddered and I cried out as I physically felt it every single time I careened into a body. Every ‘thump’ and ‘thud’ against the car and hood of my SUV was sickening. It wasn’t one or two; it was too many too count. As fast as I drove, they dove in our way as if they could care less if I hit them.

  Thump-thump-thump. Thump.

  Steady, nonstop. As if I drove down the middle of the road in a construction site hitting every cone and barrel set up. Picking off the people and sending them flying.

  My body tensed, it wasn’t me. I couldn’t have been doing that. I just aimed for the edge of the parking lot; it seemed like an eternity when it was only a few seconds. I peeled from that parking lot with a hard right turn and squeal of my tires. It felt like freedom. No more hoards of people. Trying to catch my breath, I quickly looked back to see if we were being pursued and as I turned back around to drive . . .

  Slam!

  My final straw. I hit someone else. This body didn’t veer off to the side, he flew up and crashed down on my hood, and his face pressed against my windshield. His eyes connected with mine.

  He was there for maybe a split second, but long enough to burn the image of this man’s face in my mind forever.

  The scream rumbled from my gut and resonated in my throat as I slammed on the brakes sending him flying from my hood.

  I had to stop. I just had to stop. My hands clutched the steering wheel, I lowered my head and broke down and cried.

  “Mera,” Bill spoke softly.

  “Oh, God, Bill, I looked in his eyes. I looked in his eyes.”

  “It’s okay. It is.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “It’s not.”

  “You did what you had to do to get us out of there. You have to drive.”

  Again, I shook my head as I lifted it. “I can’t. I can’t now.”

  Bill turned and looked in the back. The Major stated, “It’s clear. Switch up.’

  I watched as Bill got out and I climbed over to his seat. All I wanted to do at that moment was vomit. I felt sick. As Bill drove off, he, Randy, and even my son tried to help me by telling me that I only cleared the way of Sleepers.

  Sleepers?

  That may have been how they viewed them, but I didn’t. I viewed them as human beings whose lives I had mercilessly taken.

  16. Unexpected Guests

  The Major instructed us to keep driving until we were far enough away from major population areas. We stayed on the Ohio turnpike which was the same as it was the day before. Vacant. The Major informed us he didn’t want to wait too long, though, he had to put sutures in Danny’s arm, do a better cleaning and assess. He kept his eyes peeled for the place.

  I hadn’t a clue what �
��place’ he was speaking of.

  I do know I couldn’t close my eyes. Every single time I did I felt that knot form in my stomach and remembered the sound and feeling of hitting those bodies. A magnified version of that feeling one gets when they hit an animal or run over one already dead on the road. Very few are immune to that feeling.

  Bill did pull over so I could throw up. It didn’t make me feel better because I really hadn’t eaten yet. It was a ten minute battle of cramping and heaving that left me feeling physically worse. Emotionally my fears for my son eased as he didn’t show any signs of infection. Plus, Danny stated he felt fine. Then again, he had only been bit less than an hour beforehand.

  About thirty miles before the Indiana border, the Major told us to turn off on this pissant exit, one of those exits no one would turn off unless they lived there.

  “It’s here,” the Major said. “I saw the sign yesterday.”

  Then we all saw the sign.

  ‘AS Survival Haven’

  The Major-whose name I had yet to learn-explained that he hadn’t seen the Survival Haven but was willing to wager it was a safe place to stop.

  There were no cars on the road, and the haven wasn’t as easy to find as the miniature billboard led us to believe. A mile up the road and a homemade painted arrow pointed to another road. That one was only a step above dirt.

  I don’t know why, but in my mind, I envisioned this Survival Haven to be Wal-Mart size, not some log cabin home renovated to be a store. The dirt parking lot was only big enough to hold four cars tops. A wide front porch had empty racks, there was an old camper to the left of the building and a conversion van sat outside the garage which was about fifty feet from the main building.

  It was the only thing for miles.

  “I’ll go inside and check for Sleepers,” the Major said and left the SUV.

  My eyes were transfixed as he went to the door; obviously it was locked, and the Major disappeared behind the building.

  “They have space blankets three for ten bucks,” Bill stated.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I asked.

  “Just pointing out about the space blankets. Ammo is on sale too.”