The Sleep of the Gods

by James Sperl

  Catherine stared at the ground. While the truth had certainly been welcome it was in no way satisfying. Much in the same way an unreachable itch in the middle of the back prompted uncomfortable arm contortions in an effort to silence it, the gratification was less than expected when the reach fell short. And more often than not, the itch remained.

  “I’m not sure what to say to all of that,” Catherine said glumly.

  “Welcome to our world,” Janet replied.

  “So where did all of these people come from?” Catherine asked, glancing about the ever-increasing bustle of Sears. “Are they all that remained when you closed the mall?”

  “Actually, very few of these folks were here when we shut it down,” Janet said, running splayed fingers through her hair. “It was early morning that day so most of the people here were employees. There were a handful of customers, but most of the normal traffic had started venturing over to that new mall in East Ridge since it opened three months before. No, once word got out about what had been happening, most people ran for their cars hoping to get home and be with their families.”

  Janet stared around the room watching various people go about their business. “I can tell you this much—it was a hell of a lot lonelier around here a few months back. You hungry?”

  “Uh...no, I’m fine, thank you,” Catherine replied, raising a curious eyebrow to the sudden shift.

  “Walk with me,” Janet said, hopping to her feet. Catherine rose and followed her into Hell’s Kitchen somewhat bemused.

  “Most of the people you see walking around here today were found much in the same way you were,” Janet explained as she pulled a jar of peanut butter and orange marmalade from a muted blue Frigidaire. “We’d find them wandering around lost or scared. Some would even come right up to us and outright ask for help, which I found surprising considering the types of people prone to run the streets these days. Yeah, some of these folks were pretty brave.”

  “Or desperate,” Catherine countered.

  Janet nodded agreeably as she removed a box of Ritz crackers from the top shelf of a makeshift pantry. “Either way, that’s how we began to populate this little metropolis. Once the broadcasts died, we got what little information we could from the few remaining radio stations. When the power finally went, we knew we couldn’t just sit and wait for a miracle.”

  Janet set her food items on a movable center island with a built-in wooden chopping area. Laid out side-by-side, she slathered a row of crackers with the peanut butter then followed this with bountiful globs of stringy marmalade. She squished another cracker over the top of each to form mini PB&Js. She snatched one and shoved the whole thing into her mouth.

  “Want one?” Janet said, cracker crumbs spewing from her dry lips.

  “You know,” Catherine began, “I didn’t think I was hungry. But now that I’m seeing it, I find that I’m rather starving.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Janet said, handing a sandwich to Catherine who took it, emulating Janet with perfection as she jammed the entire cracker sandwich into her mouth.

  “Wow,” Catherine said, almost indecipherably, “That’s really good.” She smiled from ear to ear exposing her peanut butter coated teeth.

  “We use only the finest ingredients here at Chez Hell,” Janet quipped. Catherine laughed for the first time in months.

  “Is it okay if I have one of those?” a familiar voice asked from over Catherine’s shoulder. She spun in place, working feverishly to chew the remains of her cracker.

  “Josh, what are you doing up? I thought we agreed you’d try to rest,” Catherine said worriedly as she put a delicate hand to his temple.

  “I can’t sleep,” Josh winced painfully. “There’s too much going on. Plus I feel a little out of place. Like I’m invading someone’s turf or something.”

  Janet handed a PB&J to Josh. “That’s one of the first things new folks find hard to get used to around here. This is a community in the truest sense of the word. We all do the work. We all share in the reward. It’s a little like communism. Just without the torture and oppression.” Janet grinned as she took another cracker. “Everyone’s been where you are now. Don’t worry. The only rule we’ve ever instilled is that if you don’t like it, you can leave. But most people seem to abide by it just fine.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” Josh inquired.

  “Shoot,” Janet mumbled.

  “How’d you get all this stuff? I mean, food, water, guns, gas...Where’d it all come from?”

  “The more accurate question would be where didn’t we get it all from. Once we were aware things were bad and only getting worse we had to act, and fast. By day three we started sending out scavenging parties. There were about fifteen of us then. We’d scrounge and forage anywhere we could: markets, gun shops, convenience stores, gas stations, you name it. We even started entering homes that appeared vacant after so many days.” Janet moved to a washbasin and quickly rinsed her hands. “Believe me it was no small feat. And it became even harder as we were forced to abandon our vehicles and acquire our stores on foot.”

  “Why’d you have to do that?” Catherine asked.

  “It became too dangerous. The first few nights were still fairly chaotic. Lots of looting, fires. And more violence than I would’ve cared to witness. But after a few days, Darwinism kicked in and most of what roamed the streets were self-proclaimed Kings of the Sandbox. A moving vehicle in this town at night may as well have had a neon target painted on it.” Janet snatched a hand towel from a suction hook and wiped her hands. “I don’t know what it is about people that turns ‘em all crazy in times of despair, but I’d seen enough of the animal within us at my job to know there was probably no digging ourselves out of the enormous hole we were shoveling. We needed to prepare and fast.”

  Catherine reached for another cracker, taking a small bite. “Janet, I’m curious about something.”

  “Ask me.”

  “Well, I was just wondering why everything you seem to do here, you know, your operation and whatnot, why it seems to run primarily at night. I haven’t heard you mention any daytime patrols or searches. Surely there are more people—”

  “Never go outside when the sun is still up,” Janet said, deadly serious. “Are you both listening to me?” Janet gazed into the eyes of Catherine and Josh with intensity heretofore unseen. “Never.”

  Josh swallowed hard, deciding in that moment that Janet frightened him. “Why is that?” he managed to ask.

  “Cause bad shit goes on when it’s light,” Janet said, her tone softening only a sliver. “We’re nocturnal creatures now, kids. The faster you get used to that idea the better.”

  Janet opened the door to another refrigerator and withdrew three cans of Coca-Cola. She returned to the table and set the frosty cans down, holding one out towards Catherine. Catherine took it, nodding graciously as Janet offered another to Josh who also palmed the icy refreshment saying, “Thanks”.

  Janet popped the top with a loud CRACK, wherein a brief carbon dioxide hiss escaped. She drank deep then set the soda on the table, leaning forward on her forearms.

  “Look, I know you guys have been through your own hell and I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. When you’ve been dealing with this as long as I have, trying to piece together the event, make sense of it, it starts to turn to mush in your head. And when you factor in the survivalist plight and the questions that arise from it on a daily basis, such as ‘where am I going to get food?’ and ‘what are the new world rules now?’ it gets wearying. And over time the ‘why’ matters less and less whereas the ‘how’ has never been more important. Were we attacked? Was it a virus? Terrorism? I just don’t know—we just don’t know.”

  Janet stood upright and sipped from her Coke as Josh and Catherine opened theirs. “The only thing we know for sure is that the day is not safe. There’s somebody here who can do a far better job than me of explaining why that is.” Janet chugged the rest of her drink. “Better get your girls, Cat
herine. We need to go see Mr. Dennison. I think he’s got something you’ll all want to hear.”

  9

  Mr. Dennison

  Having collected Abby and Tamara from the toy aisle, Catherine followed along with Josh as Janet led them through the Atrium, a rather beautiful glass-enclosed, sky-lit section of the mall which lay just adjacent to the entrance of Sears.

  Catherine peered over the second story railing to the open floor below, which at one point served as a way-station for caffeine addicts. The tables and chairs to a Seattle’s Best remained, however the few patrons occupying the seats were a more bedraggled bunch as compared to the class of customers normally parked there.

  “The confines of the mall are safe,” Janet explained, pointing and walking. “You can go anywhere you like in here as long as it’s accessible. Unused entries and exits have been securely sealed as well as many of the service and loading entrances.” Janet passed by a Sunglass Hut and indicated the industrial mesh security gate to the store, which was down and padlocked.

  “Why do you close off some of the stores?” Josh asked. “There can’t be anything wrong with leaving a sunglass store open, can there?”

  “It’s a valid question, Josh,” Janet began. “But if you look at the layout of this mall you’ll see it’s like a beehive of entrances, exits and maintenance corridors. While we can try our best to seal off and lock these access points, it’s no guarantee. So we decided which stores had low value and removed them from the equation.” Janet clutched the mesh fence. “If something gets through a back door, they’ll still have to contend with this.”

  “Excuse me, Mrs...” Abby said.

  “Oh, please, honey. There’s no ‘missus’ anything. Just call me Janet.”

  “Oh, okay,” Abby confirmed, her face flushing just a bit. “I was just wondering, what exactly are you trying to keep locked out?”

  Abby hit the nail on the head with this question. Catherine watched Janet ponder this, as if the truth required some padding or, perhaps, fabrication. And even though her response time was less than a couple of ticks on the second hand, it seemed an eternity to Catherine.

  Janet looked down at Abby, finally replying, “Anything that’s not us.” Janet gave the fence a quick rattle, startling everyone. She turned on her heels. “Come on, Mr. Dennison will be leaving soon. We need to try and catch him before he shuts down.”

  Abby leaned over to Josh and whispered, “It’s not like he’s going anywhere.” Josh smiled as he scanned the mall, observing the varying groups of people milling about aimlessly.

  Rounding the end of the second floor walkway, Janet took a sharp right and descended a motionless escalator. “If memory serves, we picked a good night to go and see him. Tonight’s Charlie’s Steakery night.”

  “Wait a minute,” Josh coughed out. “The cheese steak place? You still have fast food?”

  “To a certain degree. Most of the chain stores were restocked the day before so there was plenty of food to go around. And keep in mind we didn’t have the numbers we have now until maybe four, five weeks ago.”

  Janet reached the bottom of the escalator and made an immediate left. Everyone followed like a line of baby ducks. “Some of the food you couldn’t do much about. Things like bread and cheese and vegetables. They went bad like they always do and we tried to eat as much of that stuff as we could before it spoiled. But the deep freezer stayed cold for a while. Long enough, at least, until we were able to get some less power dependent, more manageable ones down here and get ‘em on the gen-juice.”

  Janet curved around the center portion of the mall past the main entrance where Catherine and her family had first arrived. Catherine took a better look at this fortified entryway as they breezed past it and realized she had taken no notice of the elaborate pains Janet and her group had gone through to prevent light from entering the mall.

  The windows—of which there were many—had been blackened out with heavy coatings of black paint and then boarded over with standard plywood. The entrance itself was shrouded in black bed sheets and blankets which draped over the end of a roughly ten to twenty foot long crudely constructed tunnel which jutted into the mall.

  Scaffolding had been erected on either side of the tunnel somewhere between one and two stories high. Atop each were men with rifles peering through tiny slits in the plywood out into the night. The area would have been exceptionally dark were it not for the pair of work lights rigged to car batteries. Having taken this innovation for granted, Catherine had never considered how there came to be so much light in such a large space devoid of central power. Upon further inspection of the spotty washes of light emanating from around the mall in discriminating patches, Catherine discovered they all seemed to be supplied in the same way. And with this revelation came an explanation as to the large number of battery-less vehicles she encountered on her journey inland. There was, she recalled sadly, no shortage of car batteries these days.

  “Who’s up for a philly?” Janet yelled to the men atop the scaffolding. Both turned at her voice.

  “Hey, Janet,” a scruffy faced man in jeans and a Grateful Dead t-shirt replied. “You buying?”

  “As always.”

  “Then hook a brother up!”

  “Make it two,” the other man in cargo shorts and a sleeveless Hawaiian shirt said.

  “Two coming up,” Janet bellowed as she maintained her gait. Without losing a step, she looked over her shoulder at Tamara. “You’ve been awfully quiet back there. You a cheese steak fan?”

  Tamara looked at Catherine as if for permission, Catherine providing her the “go-ahead” nod. “Yes, ma’am. I am.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Janet chuckled. “Little miss manners. I don’t know any ma’ams. Guess you’ll just have to call me Janet like everyone else. That all right?”

  “Okay,” Tamara grinned as she hugged Sniffles, Catherine laying an arm around her petite shoulders.

  Janet strode in the direction of Bayview’s food court, which slowly revealed itself at their approach. The news regarding “Charlie’s Steakery Night” must have been a weekly ritual. Either that or someone had advertised, Catherine thought humorously, as the collection of Bayview citizens currently munching on hoagies were the most she’d seen in one place since arriving. She placed the number somewhere around twenty-five souls, which translated to fifty eyeballs staring at her and her family as they entered the dining area.

  Janet, apparently no stranger to the stinging silence and suspicious glares cast at new arrivals, marched directly through the center of the court, tossing out casual greetings to random folks like beads on Fat Tuesday.

  Catherine held Tamara close as they walked, laying a guiding hand on Abby’s shoulder as she kept pace just ahead of her. And in a mix of admiration and chilling concern watched as Josh stared down several individuals who kept their gaze on him a little too long, their eyes eventually retreating to the tabletops from which they ate. Her son had indeed become a man. And this scared the living hell out of her.

  Janet barreled up to the counter of Charlie’s Steakery, propping herself up on a forearm just below its darkened neon sign. The front of the restaurant was empty and on top of the grill, which on any other normal day would have been sizzling with chopped steak and onions, sat a small camp grill much like the ones found back in Hell’s Kitchen.

  Janet leaned over the counter, searching for signs of life. “What’s a gal got to do to get a sub in this joint?” she said loudly, glancing back at Catherine and winking in a jovial manner.

  A slender, lean man pushing fifty and wearing a colorful Paul Frank headband, which restrained his thin, graying, nape-length hair, emerged from a back room.

  “I knew we should’ve closed early tonight,” the man said with a grin as he extended his hand to Janet. “How’re you this fine evening, young lady?”

  Janet gripped his hand sturdily. “I’m doing just fine, Neal. How’s business?”

  “Well, not as good as I hoped,” h
e said, playing along. “Truth be told, I’m a little worried. Seems like I may have some competition from a new Taco Bell in the neighborhood.” He nodded across the food court to a darkened and defunct Taco Bell chain. “May have to take it to the city and see if they violated any zoning restrictions before they cut in on my action.”

  Janet patted the top of Neal’s hand with her free hand smiling from ear to ear. “How’re supplies holding up?”

  “Surprisingly well, actually. Some of the bread’s a bit freezer burned, but what do you expect after so long? Got plenty of steak and chicken, though. And my griddle top fries have never tasted better.”

  Janet whirled around in place, facing Catherine and her family. “It’s true. They take a little while, but boy are they worth it.”

  “They sound wonderful,” Catherine commented.

  Janet twisted back around to face Neal, holding a hand out in his direction. “Catherine, I’d like you to meet Neal. Neal Dennison.”

  Catherine reached over the counter, taking Neal’s sweaty hand in hers. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “And these are her children,” Janet continued. “Josh, Abby and...Tamara.” The kids all waved their hellos from behind Catherine. “Catherine and her family are new arrivals to Bayview. Just in over a few hours ago.”

  “Well, welcome to our humble community,” Neal said. “I think you’ll find we’re as agreeable a bunch as you’re likely to find these days. Don’t let all these serious looks and cold shoulders discourage you. These folks are just wary, that’s all. Several of ‘em have come from other camps we hear weren’t quite as warm and fuzzy as we are here.”

  “Other camps?” Catherine asked, surprised. “There are more places like this?”

  “Sure, there are,” Janet answered. “You didn’t think we were the only one, did you?”

  “Actually, I did.”