Sleepers Awake

by Patrick McNulty

  28

  Kelly slammed the phone down into the cradle.

  “Shit!”

  The battery-powered emergency lights sprang to life but that was it. No computers, no coffee machine, no heat, and now, no phone. She couldn’t even get a dial tone.

  She took a few deep breaths and tried to calm down. It sucks, but don’t lose it, was her mantra. It sucks—and she couldn’t get farther than that. She took comfort in the fact that she knew in her heart that as soon as the power outage occurred, Kelly Dugan would be called and already on his way to the power station. No need to worry. She’ll be back up in no time. What’s the worst thing that happened? She thought it through. She didn’t get to save her last game of Tetris on her computer before the blackout. She figured she would probably be able to go and live a normal life after the initial shock of it was over. She chuckled at her own circumstance.

  She scooped the tennis ball off the ground, slipped on her glove and whipped a strike at the wall where poor defenseless Smokey the Bear took the ball squarely between the eyes.

  “What are you doing?” Norman asked from the darkness of his cell.

  Kelly didn’t respond but she could hear the old man’s feet scrape across the floor as he shifted position in his cell. By the groan of metal she knew he was leaning against the bars by the door of the cell.

  “Kelly.”

  His voice was closer now.

  “I’m not talking to you,” she replied.

  “We have to get to the shelter. St. Patrick’s church.”

  “I know where the shelter is. You don’t gotta tell me where the shelter is. I know where the goddamn shelter is, Norman.”

  “Kelly, are you listening?” Norman asked, “We have to—”

  “I don’t have to do anything but sit and wait. You have to shut up or I’ll cuff you to my jeep outside.”

  Norman watched Kelly toss the ball at the poster on the wall a few more times and then tried again.

  “Kelly.”

  This time she spun in her seat and glared at him in the near dark.

  “What?” she snapped.

  “This blackout is not going to end.”

  “Why? How do you know?” she asked, “You do it? You sabotage the power station?” She smiled at her little joke and resumed tossing and catching her tennis ball.

  “No. But—”

  There was no easy way to explain to someone, especially someone as obtuse as Kelly Fike, that during his brief incarceration he had been visited in his cell by a wraith by the name of Jeremiah Colt, a gold miner who died in the Monk’s Head Mine cave-in of 1966. There was no easy way to tell her that Jeremiah had informed him that the power would remain out because there was no longer a power station, just the twisted burning hulk that remained after the explosion. The Zijin had taken care of that.

  “There’s no way you can possibly predict how long the power is going to be out. You might as well give it up ‘cause we’re not going anywhere. We’re just gonna sit here and wait,” she said. “And if you’re real quiet until the power comes back on, I mean silent, and I’m talking so quiet I get lulled into thinking I’m all alone in here quiet, then I’ll make you a hot chocolate. Okay?”

  “We’re going to freeze,” Norman replied, zipping his coat up to his throat.

  “We’ll be fine,” Kelly replied.

  She shivered, but didn’t reach for her coat. Not yet. It wasn’t that cold. Besides, she wouldn’t want to give the old son of a bitch the satisfaction. She wheeled her tennis ball at the wall and snatched it out of the air with a satisfying slap of leather. “What about Ruby?”

  “There goes your hot chocolate.”

  “I’m serious, what about Ruby?”

  “What about her?”

  “She’ll freeze out there at the house in the dark.”

  “She’ll be fine.’

  “She’ll die, Kelly.”

  “Relax, Norman.”

  “How long are you gonna wait? Until Jordan gets back?” Norman asked. “What if he never makes it back?”

  “Okay, I’m serious now,” Kelly said, pulling the ball into her glove one last time and then getting to her feet. “I’ve talked to you enough for today. Shut up now.”

  “We have to get to the shelter and we have to save Ruby.” “You’re not the boss of me, you know! You’re not!”

  “I know. I know. Just please, listen. Help me. Save my dog, save Ruby, please! Please! Leave me here if you want to. Handcuff me. You know me, I’m not a criminal. Please, Kelly.”

  Kelly had never been a dog person and even if she were, it was doubtful that she would take a criminal suspect like Norman out into the storm to save his dog. She thought about it briefly, but she never, not for a second, thought the power would remain off for more than an hour.

  After the first hour, Kelly took to standing by the front door. By now she was dressed in her winter coat, boots, gloves and toque. She shuffled side to side to stay warm, but it didn’t do much good as the temperature plummeted inside the police station. Kelly took one more long look in both directions down the darkened street, and when she found nothing but darkness and blowing wind, she turned away from the window.

  She scratched out a quick note to Sean and Jordan, outlining her intentions, and left it taped to the inside of the front door window.

  Norman was bundled up tight in blankets she had found piled in a closet near the bathroom. He was silent, but he had already said everything he had to.

  “You ready?” she asked.

  Norman nodded and pulled himself free of his blanket cocoon just in time to catch a pair of handcuffs Kelly sailed through the bars. He gave her a questioning look.

  “Wear them or stay here,” she said. “It’s up to you.”

  Norman slipped the metal cuffs over his wrists and stood in front of the cell door.

  Kelly drove slowly to begin with, but now, in the blowing snow, where no sane person would even think of venturing outside, they were barely moving.

  She knew that the wrought iron fence that bordered the cemetery stood buried in snow less than twenty feet to her right, but she couldn’t see it.

  “It’s right up here,” Norman assured her.

  “You been sayin’ that for the last twenty minutes.”

  “The way you drive,” Norman whispered under his breath. “You wanna get out and walk, be my guest.”

  Kelly puttered on through the snow and Norman stayed quiet for another minute, his nose pressed to the cold glass. “There,” he said, “Turn right here.”

  Kelly slowly made the turn and as the driveway rose to meet her she made out the general shape of Norman’s house. She pulled up as close as possible to the front door and parked. “Stay here.”

  “What?”

  “I said, stay here.” Kelly repeated. “I’ll be right back.”

  “But I have to go, I have to see her, I—”

  Kelly turned to Norman, “You want your dog or not?” Norman nodded.

  “Stay here.”

  Kelly braced herself against the cold and then stepped out into the storm. The wind was so strong it was a struggle to get her door open. She stepped into the knee-deep snow. Wind instantly gutted her of any warmth she brought with her and stung her face and cheeks. With her head bent into the wind, she trudged through the drifts to Norman’s front door.

  She pulled a flashlight out of her holster. She tried the doorknob, found it open and stepped in.

  Inside, Kelly got a sickening feeling of deja vu. She did not want to find anyone in here besides the damn dog. She swept her light from left to right over the tiled floor of the mudroom and called.

  “Ruuuuu-beeeeee! Come here, girl!”

  She waited, just inside the door, just deep enough to allow the door to close behind her. She did not want to search the house looking for some senile old dog that was probably cowering under a bed somewhere.

  “Ruby! Come on now!”

  Where the hell was that dog?

>   She took a step into the main living area and let her flashlight play over the kitchen table, the counter, the remnants of breakfast still left out: a peanut butter jar, a tomato, a few dirty plates and a coffee mug. Suddenly she was hungry.

  Damn dog.

  “Ruby!” she cried. “Come on, let’s go you stupid mutt!”

  Kelly checked her watch. It had taken over an hour to get here. More than likely it would take at least another hour to get to the church. She was starving. As if on cue, her stomach grumbled noisily.

  In the fridge she found a few loose pepperoni sticks and a brick of havarti cheese. No reason not to have a little snack, she figured. After all, she was doing old Norman a pretty big favor driving out here on the outskirts of town looking for his stupid dog. No reason at all. She leaned against the counter and took a bite of the dried pepperoni. Delicious. She slipped a slice of cheese into her mouth and then she heard it.

  She stopped chewing and listened. There it was again, a moan, a soft whimper. What if Ruby is hurt? Or caught? That would mean going upstairs, by herself. Suddenly she thought that forcing Norman to stay in the jeep was the biggest mistake she could have made. She grabbed up the remaining pepperoni and the brick of cheese and slipped it into a crisper near the top in the fridge. She then took a step toward the front door. She heard the sound again. This time there was no mistaking it. It was pain. And it came from upstairs.

  Ten minutes later Norman still stared at his front door from the jeep.

  “What the hell is taking so long?”

  He swivelled in his seat to look down the length of the driveway, but the snow had covered the rear window. He went back to his view out his window and came face to face with his mother.

  “Jesus Christ!” he shrieked, reeling back across the seat. “You gotta stop doing that,” he said. “Jesus, you’d think I’d get used to it.”

  His mother’s face looked grim and afraid.

  “Go, Norman,” she said. “Go. Right now.”

  “I can’t go. Kelly Fike is in there getting Ruby. Besides I—”

  “They’re gone, Norman,” his mother said. “Gone.”

  His mother turned toward the house, fear rippling her features.

  “Just trust me and go!” she said just below a scream, “Go!”

  Norman couldn’t think. Dead? Gone?

  “Go!”

  Where could he go? He was locked in the back seat of a police jeep. Norman knew better than to argue with his mother, but he was trapped. Between the back seat and the front was a metal grill bolted to the jeep’s frame. He wasn’t getting through that.

  He peered outside into the blowing snow at his front door, praying that his mother was wrong and Kelly and Ruby would step out into the snow. But the door remained closed.

  “Go, Norman!”

  Norman cursed. He would be upset later, right now he was just really really pissed. He rolled onto his back and brought his boots up against the window glass. He drew back his knees and drove his boot heels at the window. The rebound sent what felt like shards of glass up his legs into his arthritic hips. He whimpered, but he had a feeling that was the best it was gonna get. He drew back his knees again and this time he gave it all he had. The glass cracked. He kicked the pane again and his boot-clad feet burst through the shattered glass.

  “Hurry,” his mother urged.

  “Okay! Okay!” he hissed. “I’m nearly seventy, you know.”

  Norman adjusted himself on the car seat so he could poke his head out through the broken window. He reached up to the roof and grabbed the roof rack. He pulled on the roof rack and got himself to a sitting position on the window ledge. He tried pulling his right foot out through the window but he wasn’t that limber.

  “Come on!” she cried. “They’re coming!”

  Norman’s head whipped toward the front door. He couldn’t see anyone, but it didn’t make him feel any better. He let go of the roof rack and let himself fall backwards into the snowdrift. He scrambled to his feet and then to the driver’s side door. For a sickening moment, Norman was sure he had watched Kelly lock her driver’s door. He tried the handle and the door swung open. He slipped behind the wheel and dropped the shift into reverse. With his foot on the brake he took one long last look at the front door. He believed his mother, but he still felt guilty leaving Kelly and Ruby.

  His eye registered movement, a flickering shadow over the hood of the Jeep. As Norman looked up through the windshield, the creature dropped onto the hood with a crash. Snarling and snapping, the Zijin scratched at the windshield, gouging the glass with its talons.

  Norman stepped on the gas and the jeep lurched backwards. The Zijin held fast. It cocked its arm back and drove a ham¬sized fist through the windshield. Long, black talons ripped at Norman’s clothes. Its nails snapped and clawed as Norman cranked the wheel and hit the brakes, sending the Jeep into a spin. The Zijin was ripped from the hood of the car and tumbled through the snow. Norman hit the gas but went nowhere. He pressed the pedal but the Jeep’s tires spun uselessly.

  The hulking shape of the Zijin rose from the drifted snow and stepped casually toward the driver’s side window. He wasn’t alone. Another, smaller creature crept up. They were ten feet away and moving with purpose.

  Norman pinned the gas pedal to the floor but the Jeep slid side to side as the tires spun, churning up clouds of white powder. He threw it in reverse and gunned the engine again. Snow and wind howled through the hole in the windshield. Norman was freezing, but he was too scared to care. His heart slammed against his chest. Each beat pounded in his ears. Sweat burned into his eyes. He gave up on reverse and dropped the stick shift into drive and gunned the engine again. The smaller Zijin was at his driver’s side window, close enough to fog the window with its breath. Norman couldn’t bring himself to look at the face staring at him. He knew if he did the night would be over. He wouldn’t be able to move and he would crumble under its stare.

  “Oh, Jesus Christ, oh, God ...”

  The creature snapped a punch at the window, spider¬webbing the glass. Norman kept his foot pinned to the floor as the jeep swung left to right wearing a groove into the snow.

  The window exploded inches from his face. Norman pulled away, but he was yanked back as the Zijin’s claws dug deep into the meat of his shoulder. Norman howled but never let his foot off the gas pedal. Blood sluiced down his sleeve, spreading across his chest and back. The creature’s claws were like knives and twisted in the wound. His vision was clouded by stars. His head dipped as darkness took a swipe at him.

  The Jeep lurched forward suddenly, breaking the Zijin’s grip. The wheel spun in Norman’s hands as the Jeep headed straight down the driveway toward the road. He cranked the wheel using his good arm and somehow managed to apply the brakes to make the turn onto the main road. He couldn’t hear anything, he was screaming too loud.

  Norman resisted the temptation to keep the gas pedal buried all the way back to town, for he knew that at his current speed he would no doubt end up in the ditch within five minutes. He eased up until he was at a manageable speed. He took a peek into the rearview and saw nothing but snow, ice and darkness.

  He heard it first. The weight of the creature clinging to the roof buckled the metal. Claws scratched the metal skin of the hull. Norman couldn’t take his eyes off the rearview mirror as a mini-horror movie spun through its final reel.

  A pale claw slid through the broken back window, the window that he himself had broken to escape. Next came the sinuous forearm, heavily roped with thick cords of muscle.

  He could jerk the wheel, hopefully dislodging the creature from the roof, without losing control of the Jeep, but the wheels were already slipping over the icy road. He could slam on the brakes. What he could not do was let the creature into the vehicle, where it could eviscerate him at its leisure from the back seat.

  Norman slammed on the brakes and the Jeep went into a skid. The creature shrieked, and Norman hoped the evil son of a bitch was getting ri
pped apart. But Norman had to focus, the Jeep spun almost sideways. He steered into the skid and brought the Jeep back on track. He glanced at the rearview and didn’t see a hand holding on. He took a breath.

  “Oh, thank you Jesus.”

  He felt the creature’s breath on his neck. He spun in his seat. The claw arced down toward him. Norman dove for the floorboards. The creature’s claw buried itself deep into the headrest, missing Norman by inches.

  The Zijin roared and ripped its claw free of the twisted mess of material and stuffing. The steering wheel wobbled on its own with no one at the helm. Norman stared up at the creature awaiting the final move when the front end of the jeep suddenly dropped five feet. Norman’s head smashed into the glove box and for a moment he felt pain and then there was nothing but darkness.

  Norman awoke shaking. Blood trickled into his eye and down his cheek. His left shoulder throbbed. But he was alive, and that was something. He looked up. The Zijin had been thrown forward into the windshield. Its head and shoulders made it through the glass barrier, but the rest of it was still inside the Jeep.

  Norman winced with every movement, but like it or not, he really didn’t have a choice. He had to get out of there and far away in a hurry. He pulled himself up into the passenger seat and cranked down the window. The window was halfway down when he heard the creature stir. His head whipped around and the creature came back on line.

  Thick branches of bone had been broken, some poking through the creature’s massive back, dripping gore. Slowly, they returned to their original shape, repairing themselves, knitting together as if they had never broken.

  Norman levered himself out through the window and into the snow. The cold was beyond freezing. It left freezing in the dust somewhere. This was different, even to Norman, who had spent his entire life here. His gloves and toque were inside the wreckage, or possibly back in his driveway, knocked loose when he fell out of the window. The point was, he was uncovered, certain to die out here if he didn’t find shelter soon, whether the creature came after him or not.