Sleepers 2

by Jacqueline Druga

  “He was,” I said. “There are chapters of the Doctrines dedicated to him. He was quite evil, feared by our people, portrayed as the Antichrist.”

  “And you never bought it,” Alex stated.

  “Wouldn’t say I didn’t buy it,” Randy answered. “I just thought it was over the top, too supernatural to make sense. I always saw it as a metaphor. Maybe it was originally written as a metaphor and the translators took it further.”

  “And really, think about it,” Sonny said. “Two decades after the plague. How did the Palers survive? Wasn’t there a Surmising?”

  “Reckoning,” I corrected. “And there was. The Doctrines made it sound like God cleansed the land, but we know now it was man. The Doctrines stated the Palers hid and survived. We know now the Government didn’t make a clean sweep.”

  Alex said, “I think what Sonny is getting to is how did they survive twenty years to fight.”

  I looked at Alex and then Sonny. “You’re kidding, right? They … evolve. Reproduce.”

  Alex shrieked like a little girl. “They reproduce? Out there right now they are having sex?”

  “I don’t think yet,” I said. “But like animals, they will. And yes, they reproduce. In one hundred years, they are hunted like deer.”

  Sonny whistled. “Are you shitting me? Do they at least calm down?”

  “No, they are violent. Always violent. In my time, we are divided fifty-fifty. It’s scary. The virus keeps taking many of our young, so our numbers dwindle. The percentage has grown through the decades. Mankind as we knew it was facing extinction. Without the cure, this running from Sleepers doesn’t stop. Man just gets better at it.”

  Sonny sat back with folded arms. “This is where I don’t get it. You came back to find Phoenix, to save him and deliver the cure. So… that your children don’t die? So, that maybe there are no more Sleepers or Palers?”

  I nodded.

  “From your understanding, Project Savior came back to our time to deliver a virus meant to enhance the human race, make us better, to be ready for some sort of takeover.”

  “Yes.”

  Sonny shook his head. “Theoretically it won’t work. If you guys were smart enough to have time travel, then you should have been smart enough to know you cannot go back and change the fact that causes you to time travel in the first place.”

  “What do you mean?” Alex asked.

  I knew what he meant; my colleagues and I had discussed it many times.

  Sonny explained. “Time will adjust itself. Randy cannot change the circumstances that caused him to come back. How was the future able to release viruses that would change their own existence? You can’t. It would create a paradox that could collapse.”

  “But it didn’t,” I said. “Nothing collapsed, so theories are wrong.”

  “That’s because it may still have the same outcome yet,” Sonny stated. “Or again, the Doctrines were tweaked to mislead. Let’s face it, they’re fiction. At least in part. No names were ever given. It was the Mother, the Technological Man. In any event, nothing can change. It won’t.”

  Alex fluttered his lips. “I hate time travel shit. Can we stop talking about it? It makes my head spin. You can go in circles repeatedly, and it still doesn’t make sense. Accept it and move on.”

  But I had to know. “How do you know about time travel and things like that?”

  Before Sonny answered, Alex did. “Television. Star Trek. Movies.”

  Sonny nodded. “Yep. It’s all speculation. I was a big science fiction nut. I loved to write it, too. Time travel stories were my favorite genre to write.”

  “I thought you worked for the power company?” I said.

  “I did,” Sonny replied. “But I loved to write.”

  “Were you published?” Alex asked.

  At that point, Sonny did something odd. He grew silent, relaxed a little, and took a sip of his own drink. “No. Not yet. However I… I have a feeling I will be, and it will be a monster hit.”

  Alex chafed at that. “Dude, really, I don’t think you’re landing that dream publishing contract. And you have a captive audience. Probably you’re the only writer alive.”

  “No, I’m serious. I hadn’t said anything. Take a …” Sonny reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.

  Alex, in his usual manner, joked, “You have your wallet?”

  “Yeah. Identification. What if I need it?”

  “Go on,” I encouraged. “What were you saying?”

  “I was saying, I didn’t mention it before, but I think I may end up being a very famous writer.” He tossed his wallet on the table and it opened, exposing his driver’s license.

  Alex, of course, laughed, and that was short lived because at that second Michael raced into the room.

  “We have a location,” Michael said, out of breath. “We got the location of the New Jerusalem.”

  He ran out after that announcement. Alex ran out right behind him.

  Sonny swept up his wallet and ran out as well.

  I saw it.

  Alex didn’t. I’m not sure if Sonny knew that I saw. But I did.

  Sonny was possibly right when he said he was going to write the biggest book of the future.

  The Doctrines were originally called Logan’s Logs, named after the man who’d penned them. That part was true. And after I met the group of survivors, I believed and conveyed to them that Logan’s Logs must have been written by Bill Logan, one of our group who died.

  What I read of the Doctrines to the others, what they had read, probably was written as hearsay. The author of the Doctrines wasn’t there. That would explain why they weren’t written in first person.

  The author wrote the story as he heard it or as he wanted it conveyed. This meant much of the Doctrines had to be fiction. Written by a fiction writer.

  I believed they were written by Bill. Until Sonny tossed his wallet on the table.

  Sonny was his nickname. His driver’s license had his real name.

  His last name was Wilson, but Sonny’s first name was Logan.

  35. ALEX SANS

  There was an air of enthusiasm and excitement as if we had struck gold, and we had. Nick didn’t just translate a location – the New Jerusalem gave an address.

  Or close to it. Three letters.

  They were both eerie and ironic to me, although I had to be the one to explain it to everyone, not all picked up on it at first.

  The three letters: TPL.

  The code stated, ‘We are at TPL. Eldorado. Clean sweep. All clear.’

  I smacked myself on the head when I heard it. It made perfect sense, and I wanted to kick myself for not thinking of it as a place to go. I was thinking about prisons and such.

  TPL. The Promised Land, or the Fundamentalist Church of Latter Day Saints compound in Eldorado. It was built as a self sufficient community, farm land, water treatment, sewage disposal and most of all, those inside were protected from the outside modern world by concrete walls, twelve feet high. Some said it was equipped with high tech security around the perimeter, but that didn’t matter. To me, twelve foot fences were safeguards against Sleepers.

  It housed about a thousand people. No one remembered it until I reminded them of the raid in 2008 when child abuse allegations ran rampant, with televised images of child brides, images of women in long dresses and braided hair.

  Clean sweep, all clear, I took as meaning they had cleared either bodies or Sleepers. Or heck, maybe, like the bus children, no one turned or got sick. After all, like Marissa and crew, they had lived secluded lives.

  Another cult.

  I had to laugh when Randy asked, “What is it with your society and cults?”

  Mera shuddered at the idea of what all went on there, and Beck said, “It’s not what happened, it’s what will happen there that counts.”

  Self-sufficient. Protected.

  Ironic because of Marissa and the others.

  Perfect because its nickname was a Fortress fo
r God. Fortress for God? How about New Jerusalem.

  How much more sense could it make?

  Much more sense than NORAD, I can tell you.

  We missed the mark the first time. We wouldn’t make that same mistake again.

  We couldn’t talk to them, nor did we want to try. We did radio a message that we knew the location and would be en route. I wished we could replicate their frequency, but we couldn’t.

  Everyone patted Nick on the back, thanked Jillian, then Marissa must have heard the buzz and came out to see what was happening.

  She looked so dejected that I kind of felt sorry for her.

  Beck returned to roof watch, Mera went inside, Sonny and Randy engaged in a conversation about something, and Marissa stared at the radio.

  “What is it?” I asked her.

  “I wanted to be the one to solve the mystery.”

  I smiled. “You did really well.”

  “Please, Alex Sans. I just heard that they are looking for a Doctor. I don’t know that name, do you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Nick is nowhere near as smart as me. I can’t believe he solved it.”

  “He didn’t solve it, he just was the one to hear it.”

  “Did I miss anything else?”

  “Not much.”

  “I’m still going to listen.”

  “Good. Good.” I laid my hand on her head. “I think it is amazing and very cool that you know how to understand that code.”

  “Why did no one teach it to you?” she asked. “Was it not standard education when you grew up?”

  “No.”

  “But you were in wars.”

  “I was supposed to learn it. It didn’t stick with me.”

  “Then you didn’t have a good teacher,” she said. “I will teach it to you one day.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “How is your face?” she asked.

  “Hurts.”

  “It looks much better.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yes.” She nodded. “It’s not as big. And your eyeball isn’t all red, just mostly red.”

  “That’s good to know. So, are you gonna go back to bed?”

  “No, I’d like to stay up and listen. Maybe they’ll give more information. What about you?”

  “I think I’ll sit with you.”

  She smiled at me. “I’d like that.”

  Just as I reached for the radio a call came through.

  “Alex Sans.”

  My entire being sank when I heard that. My name being blasted over the radio meant it was the ARC. I hoped that they were calling to thank me, but a part of me knew they weren’t.

  I peered up, it didn’t take long for Michael, Randy and Sonny to inch their way closer.

  “Alex Sans, if you are there can you please respond?” he repeated.

  Marissa looked at me with her enormous eyes. “He is saying please; maybe you should answer. He has not said please before.”

  I wanted and needed permission from someone. Michael nodded.

  I lifted the transceiver microphone. “This is Alex Sans. Over.”

  “Alex, we’re not gonna play games, mince words, or make threats. This radio call is about as serious as it can get. Do you copy?”

  “I copy.”

  “The child you gave us is useless. It is not the same child. The infant won’t survive despite our abilities. The infant is also immune to the virus. Over.”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “We have plenty of immune people. We followed what people said of the Phoenix child, that he held the cure, not just immunity. Mr. Sans, I’m not a soldier, I’m a doctor. Phoenix infected a lot of people. Instantaneously. He is like a hive. We believe he breeds the virus. We don’t know how or why, we need to find this out. If he is out in the open, out with the general population or those who survived, he will infect anyone with a dormant strain. Any pregnant woman around him will not give birth to a healthy child. Do you understand? Over.”

  I lifted the radio. “Yes.”

  “We can’t confirm any of this until he is tested. If he carries the pure virus, he may be contagious, but he may also be the key to stopping it. He may also be the key to curing some of the infected. We do not, I repeat, do not want to kill the child. We need the child. We need to acquire him and contain him. Is that clear? Over.”

  “It’s clear. But why was our man so insistent that we run with the baby?”

  “Perhaps he didn’t have a clear understanding. I don’t know. He did know the child is a highly contagious carrier. We need that child. That is not an option. The only option is when you deliver the child. We will return the defective child to you. We need the Phoenix. Each day that goes by, more of our five thousand in the ARC are vulnerable. Each day that goes by, you, your group, all of you may be immune to this particular strain, but one common cold, one flu bug caught by the Phoenix child, and that virus can mutate. All of you are in danger as long as you possess the child.”

  “And if we don’t hand over the child?”

  “I’m afraid they will find you. With ease. They know where you are now. They’ll follow you and take him at all cost. It is that important. I can assure you, he will not be harmed. Mr. Sans, I give you my word.”

  I chuckled. “Your word? I don’t even know who you are.”

  “My name is Doctor Albert Javier.”

  Javier? I looked around at everyone.

  Marissa tugged my sleeve. “That’s the guy the New Jerusalem is looking for.”

  I whispered to her, “I know.” I glanced to Michael. Michael just shrugged as if he didn’t know what to tell me.

  “Mr. Sans,” Javier continued, “do the right thing. We need him, humanity needs him.”

  He followed up with they’d be in touch and a single “over”.

  That was it.

  The man New Jerusalem was searching for had radioed us. Both places needed Phoenix, but the New Jerusalem needed Javier. A heck of a Catch-22.

  It was too much, too confusing, and it was getting late. My face hurt and my mind swirled with questions that went unanswered. We all sat in a heavy silence following the radio call. It was a call we’d have to tell the others about in the morning.

  Until then, we’d try to rest.

  36. MERA STEVENS

  Jessie ran the soft bristled brush over Phoenix’s silky hair while I rubbed lotion on his body. He smiled and cooed over the pampering. I didn’t want to leave the Ranch. We had been there two days, and it took that long to get things ready. The kids needed rest.

  Sonny and Randy hid a truck with supplies.

  The ARC made several more pleas to Alex, and I felt the urgency in each one.

  “We’re moving out,” Beck stepped into the room. “You ready?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “Beck, are we doing the right thing?”

  “We have to go to the New Jerusalem, you know this. Phoenix needs to get there.”

  “But they’re looking for Javier. If they’re looking for him, then they need him for the cure.”

  “Mera, I don’t know what to tell you to make you feel better. We’re going south. It’s a safe place.”

  “They know our every move, Beck.”

  He lowered his head. “And they’re playing mind games.”

  “So you don’t think Phoenix is a danger to any of us?”

  “Look at him, Mera. Look at him. Does he look like a danger?”

  I glanced down to the baby. He was so innocent, so special. It was hard to believe it was the same baby that was smaller than my forearm not three months earlier. “What about Keller? What will they do?”

  “I don’t know. We have to go. Jessie, honey...” Beck motioned with his head, “go on to the car, me and Mom will be right out.”

  “Kay Ba,” she smiled and ran out.

  Laying his hand on my shoulders, Beck turned me from the baby. "Listen, I know you’re worried. I am, too. Sonny and Randy spotted a small town on the m
ap they think may be a decent place to stop for the evening. Midway, you know. We’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna go to this place in Texas, and we’re going to start a new life.”

  “What if they come for Phoenix?”

  “Then I promise you, with everything I am, I will protect him. I will die for him if I have to. I’d die for all of you.”

  He meant that. I felt it and heard it and with his words I moved into his embrace, baby in my arms, taking comfort from him. Stepping back, I stared at Beck for a moment, searching out that last reassurance before we left. He placed his lips softly to mine.

  “Ugh!” Danny blasted. “Dude, are you kissing my mom?”

  Beck did his rare half smile and stepped back with a shake of his head. “I am kissing your mom. I like kissing your mom.”

  “Oh my God,” Danny gasped in a joking manner. “And here I thought everyone was teasing me.”

  “Well get used to it.” Beck winked. “We’re all gonna work on being a team, us guys. You, me, your mom, Jess, Phoenix. Okay?”

  Danny smiled. “Works for me. And uh, Beck… even though there aren’t many guys around, I wouldn’t have anyone else watch out for us.” He stepped back. “We’re heading out.”

  I looked at Beck, and he truly looked happy. It was the vote of confidence from Danny that I think we both needed. After another embrace, and with deep breaths, we headed toward the caravan. Toward the next and, I believed, the last step in the journey to our new lives.

  We were so close.

  * * *

  It wasn’t even eight in the morning when we had left the ranch. Our first stop of many was just before noon. We fed the kids, let them move around, but we couldn’t dally. The ARC made it quite clear that they knew we had moved.

  In what they called their final appeal, they requested that we stop, and they would bring Keller back, no conflict, no harm, if we just turned over Phoenix.

  More than anything, we wanted to keep moving, but that was impossible with children and babies.

  We hoped the small town a few hours away would give us some security and could hide us. According to Sonny the town was nestled in hills.

  Get in there, hide the cars, and don’t respond. In our brief lunch break, we knew we were moving toward some sort of climactic finish with the ARC. A chopper flew overhead, circled, and then flew off.