The Sleep of the Gods

by James Sperl

  A loud clanging suddenly rang out from somewhere inside the mall, piercing the relative silence like a jackhammer on a steel plate. The sound, uneven and unmelodious, could have been anything from a stockpot hit with a serving spoon to trashcan lids banged together.

  Tamara jumped at the noise, burrowing into her mother’s chest. Abby instinctively inched closer to Josh who gaped about worriedly, his hands palm down on the table and ready to spring into action.

  “Relax, everyone. Relax,” Neal assured. “It’s just the warning bell.”

  “Warning for what?” Catherine questioned, holding Tamara close.

  “It’s almost daylight.”

  There were more people now, even more than had previously gathered at the food court. The warning “chimes” had elicited a Pavlovian-like response in the survivors, drawing them out from whatever nooks and abandoned stores they’d occupied themselves with for the night. They sauntered into the Sears store, no one in any particular hurry; conversations were held casually like fans leaving an afternoon baseball game.

  It felt peculiar to have just arrived while simultaneously serving as the bearer of bad news with the witnessing of the light. It cast a negative cloud over her and her children and this perception was not imagined. The watchful faces of the people streaming in like cattle validated her fear as every scowl or frown seemed to lend credence to their current existence as pariahs.

  “Is this gonna be home now?” Tamara asked absently as she pretended to make Sniffles dance along the edge of the cot beside Catherine.

  “For now, baby,” Catherine affirmed. “For now.”

  Josh glared up at the people who moved past his family from his position on the floor, returning in equal measure the leers and looks of distrust. He’d been able to deflect away most gawkers’ stares by offering up a fierce determination in his eyes, reducing their ogling explorations to the tops of their shoelaces. But the steadfastness was suddenly rendered immobile when a kind and inquisitive face suddenly entered his field of vision.

  “Josh?” A young girl with a sandy brown ponytail said. “Josh Hayesly?”

  Josh narrowed his eyes as if squinting would help him recognize the person before him. “Yeah. How do you know who I am?”

  “I go to your school,” the girl replied. “Well, went to your school anyway. I’m Shelby.”

  Josh only eyed her curiously, the name ringing no bells.

  “Shelby Cook,” she said more like a question than a statement. “You were actually in my history lecture hall third period. With Mrs. Blindle?”

  “You were?” Josh said blankly.

  Catherine, who’d witness this painful exchange, finally leaned over and whacked Josh playfully on the shoulder. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Josh. The girl is saying hello to you. Geez Louise.” Catherine stood and offered her hand. “Hi, Shelby. I’m Josh’s mom, Catherine.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Shelby said, shaking Catherine’s hand.

  Catherine turned and pulled Tamara gently to her feet. “And this is one of my daughters, Tamara.”

  “Hello,” Tamara said with a smile.

  “Hi”, Shelby replied, holding out her hand for the little girl to shake, which she did.

  “You apparently already know the King of Manners over here.” Shelby laughed out loud, covering her mouth with her hand in an attempt to stifle it. “Are you by yourself here, sweetie?” Catherine asked. “Is there anyone with you? Any family?”

  Shelby nodded as Josh climbed to his feet. “Yes, my mom is here.” She turned and looked into the throng of entering folks. She searched the crowd unsuccessfully. “Somewhere around here,” she grinned.

  “How did you get here?” Josh said sheepishly.

  “By car,” Shelby said, deadpanning.

  Josh’s forehead creased in confusion. “No, I mean...how did you...not how did you get here, but how—”

  “How did I end up here, you mean?” Shelby winked coyly at Catherine who decided in that instant that Shelby was good people.

  “Yeah, how did you end—”

  “Pure luck and timing. And nothing else,” Shelby said.

  “How do you mean?” Catherine asked.

  “My mom was taking me to see the doctor, you know, that morning. We only stopped here to get bagels and coffee and then we were gonna be on our way. But as soon as we got here people started leaving in droves. It didn’t take us long to find out what was happening and once we did thought it best to stay put and see how everything panned out. I’m sure you can guess how the story ends.”

  Catherine and Josh both nodded at this, their eyes falling to the floor as if allowing a moment of silence to pass in reverence.

  “So how did you end up here?” Shelby asked. “I heard you just came in today. Where’ve you been all this time?”

  Catherine exchanged subtle glances with Josh. “That’s a long story, honey.”

  At the entrance, Catherine spotted Janet as she made her way in, the walkie still planted firmly beside her mouth as she walked. Catherine turned back to Josh and Tamara. “Listen you guys, I need to go speak to Janet. Either of you know where your sister is?”

  “I think she’s in the bathroom,” Tamara answered.

  “Okay. Sweetie, will you do me a favor and go get her and bring her back here? Then I want everyone to stay put until I get back.”

  “Where’re we gonna go?” Josh said brusquely.

  “You know what I mean, wise guy.”

  “It’s no problem, mom. I’ll get Abby,” Tamara said.

  “Thanks kiddo. I’ll be right back.”

  Catherine spun on her heels and headed for Janet. She’d taken only a few steps before she was hit with a sudden realization: Tamara had used the word “mom” for the first time.

  Janet holstered her walkie just as Catherine emerged from the crush and approached her, already speaking before Catherine could get a word out. “Well, whatever you saw was missed by our boys on the roof. No one reported any signs of light but that’s not to say it didn’t happen. We picked you all up a pretty good clip from here and if your claim of south is accurate that could put the source near ten miles away. Easy to miss when you’re not looking for it.” Janet checked her watch then cursed silently. “It’s too late to send a scout out now. The sun will be up in twenty minutes.”

  Janet glanced out the entrance and up at the glass enclosed atrium, the sky beyond already gradating from cobalt blue to purplish-pink. She turned to a plump woman with an acne problem standing beside the Sears entrance like a sentinel. “Go ahead and ring that five minute call, Cynthia.” The woman nodded then picked up an aluminum pasta pot and a serving spoon. She held it over her head and whacked the underside for what seemed like an eternity, the metallic clangs reverberating in Catherine’s ears long after Cynthia had ceased.

  “Listen,” Catherine began after the banging stopped. “I need to talk to you, but you seem really busy right now, so when you get a free moment I’d like to ask—”

  “Now’s as good a time as any, Catherine,” Janet interrupted, side-stepping incoming Sears residents. “I don’t mean to be rude, but free time and social hours have become somewhat of a luxury these days. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I uh...I need to talk to you about transportation.”

  “Transportation?” Janet said, generally confounded. “Are you already thinking about leaving? Are our homey touches not to your liking?” Janet forced a thin smile, but its transparency couldn’t conceal the agitation beneath.

  “No, of course not. It’s great here. Really.”

  “Then where do you need to go?”

  Catherine forced herself to maintain eye contact despite her overwhelming desire to lie on the ground and curl into a ball. “I need to see if my husband’s alive.”

  Janet’s scrutiny softened a bit, the legitimacy of Catherine’s words resonating with her and visibly registering in her posture.

  “I realize it’s a long shot, but I need to know. Now, I
know you have fuel and there seem to be plenty of available cars around. I was just wondering if I could get some help from you on this. Again.” Catherine smiled lightly at this final word.

  “Look, Catherine,” Janet said, her tone suddenly more empathetic, “I understand you feel the need to fill that void of uncertainty. Trust me, I do. But what you’re talking about... well, it’s not only a long shot, it’s damn risky.”

  Catherine nodded agreeably. “It is. But I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t at least try to find out.” She desperately wished for Janet’s attempts at dissuasion to cease before she was compelled to embellish on her lie any further. It already sickened her to have to deceive the woman who’d plucked her from Death’s door, and to continue seemed akin to applying torture to a corpse.

  Janet put her hands on her hips and stared at the ground. “I hear you, Catherine. I don’t agree. But I hear you. We’ll figure out something tomorrow.” She shifted her head slightly, looking off to Catherine’s side. “And what about you little miss? You eager to head back home as well?”

  Tamara materialized at Catherine’s side. “We’re going home?” she said keenly, turning to look up at Catherine. “Are we going to get the key?”

  The world suddenly shifted around Catherine. A brief tremor of revelation wobbled her knees and caused her eyes to tear involuntarily. Mustering every ounce of calm-and-collected she could, Catherine ignored Tamara’s last question hoping the weight of her sentence would evaporate into the air much in the way the spoken words did.

  “What are you doing here?” she diverted, her face feeling flush. “I thought I asked you to find Abby.”

  “I tried,” Tamara said, preoccupying herself with Sniffles. “But I didn’t see her in the bathroom.”

  “Check back by customer service on the first floor,” Janet said to her, but keeping her eyes trained on Catherine. “There’re bathrooms there too.”

  “If you have trouble come back and get me, okay?” Catherine said.

  “All right,” Tamara agreed. She turned and skipped away, holding Sniffles in front of her as he air-skipped along with her.

  Catherine could feel Janet’s gaze boring into her before she even looked up. Tamara’s massive slip of the tongue was the precise reason why she and Warren had refrained from sharing any pertinent information with their children. This was all it took. An innocent and unconscious lapse in judgment and all the cards had been laid on the table. When Catherine had finally confided to her kids aboard the boat that she’d forgotten the key—that precious, life-preserving key—she’d never considered a scenario in which that information could come back to haunt her. But now, with Janet’s eyes searing into her skull, Catherine had the option of either providing an explanation as to what Tamara meant or ignoring it altogether and hoping Janet would allow the words of a ten year old to drift off into the ether. She preferred the latter, but chose the former.

  “I can’t tell you how relieved that little girl is going to be if we find that key,” Catherine offered.

  “What kind of key are we talking about here, Catherine?” Janet said suspiciously, her tone accusatory.

  The hamster in Catherine’s brain took to the exercise wheel as yet another lie began to formulate. “For the duration of our trip we’ve been without her diary key,” she offered. “You know that little tiny key that usually hangs by a string beside the lock?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Well, for whatever reason, Tamara removed it. I guess she wanted to be the only one who knew where it was. But when we left on our trip she forgot to pack it! So this poor girl’s been writing on notebook paper and saving the pages in a handmade folder ever since because her diary’s been locked up the entire time.”

  “Why not just jimmy the lock?”

  “Oh, my no. She wouldn’t hear of that. She wouldn’t want to risk damaging it for when she got the key back later. I thought about trying it myself when she wasn’t around but I didn’t want to—”

  As if summoned by pure will, Steve Blairwood suddenly appeared in the entryway. He scouted Janet and double-timed a beeline directly for her.

  “Something’s happened at Apache Camp,” he blurted out before Janet had a chance to make herself aware of his presence.

  “What?” she said, all interest in Catherine gone for the moment. “What are you talking about? How do you know?”

  “We’re not really sure to what extent, but something’s gone down.” Steve adjusted his rifle strap. “We couldn’t tell anything at night, but once daylight starting creeping in...”

  “What, Steve? Jesus, spit it out,” Janet said, exasperated.

  “We’ve got columns of smoke. We couldn’t make them out against the night sky, but once the sun broke the horizon...Judging by their location it sure looks like it’s in the vicinity of Apache.”

  Janet stared through Steve, her brain a whirling dervish of possibilities. “Jesus Christ Almighty,” she muttered at last. She whipped her head around to meet Catherine. “Are you absolutely sure you didn’t see anything? Hear anything?”

  “No, nothing,” Catherine stammered. “It’s like I said. The light just came on for a minute. Dim, but it was there. Then it was gone.”

  Janet nodded silently to herself as she walked away from Catherine and Steve, chewing laboriously on her thumbnail. She checked her watch again, then, without warning, strode for the entrance, calling over her shoulder to Steve, “Show me.”

  Steve trotted up alongside her, immediately jumping on his own walkie. Janet leaned over to Cynthia and muttered something inaudible, but the meaning was clear.

  Shut it down.

  Cynthia wasted no time as she gathered her “alarm” paraphernalia and tucked them just inside the entryway. The last of the stragglers hotfooted it into the store lest Cynthia’s expediency leave them stranded to fend for themselves in the mall proper.

  Reaching up with a boat hook, Cynthia ensnared a fluid mesh security gate from overhead and yanked it downward. Two other people—one man, one woman—emerged from the crowd to assist, fastening heavy duty padlocks to custom installed lock plates along either wall as well as where the gate met the floor. The two assistants moved in tandem, slipping the curved bolts into place, first through the gate then the mounts. They snapped the locks shut, yanking on them with quick jerks to assure their secured status.

  Catherine wound her way back to Josh who, to her pleasant surprise, was still talking to Shelby. She sat down on the cot and faced the entrance, staring in awe at the military-like precision with which the residents of Bayview moved. The fence secured, the individuals apparently charged with “shut down” procedure began to assemble a crude, but effective system of plywood sheets in front of the fence, utilizing cordless drills.

  Shelby glanced at Catherine and noticed her mixture of incredulity and trepidation at the unnerving sight before her.

  “It feels weird, doesn’t it?” Shelby said.

  “What’s that?” Catherine replied, her eyes still on the gate crew.

  “That feeling of being sealed inside. Kind of like a coffin.” Catherine looked up and met Shelby’s gaze. “When they first got their system worked out,” Shelby continued, “it took them forty-five minutes to completely barricade the entrance. Now they can do it in under seven. It’s pretty amazing.”

  “Amazing,” Catherine responded dryly. “So what do the people outside the fence do? People like Janet. The guards on the roof. How do they get back in?”

  “They usually pull watch duty through the day,” Shelby said. “Patrol the grounds. Make sure everything’s kosher. So I guess, to answer your question, the long and short of it would be, they don’t.”

  Tamara felt a little silly asking her mother for the location of the bathroom. She’d been in a mall plenty of times and had, on numerous occasions, made use of the facilities. And although she’d never actually been to Bayview, had to assume they were all designed in more or less the same way.

  Discovering the
“Customer Service” sign, Tamara immediately noticed the distinctive and universal symbols for “man” and “woman” etched onto a bronze placard mounted to the wall just below it. There were surprisingly few people utilizing the bathrooms given the multitude that had just entered the store. The low numbers, Tamara reasoned, would probably exist for only minutes more as the massive influx of people would most certainly set to the task of readying themselves for bed. She had better hurry, she thought.

  Two women holding a conversation over their favorite desert at the Cheesecake Factory emerged from the restroom as Tamara approached. The older woman, a Latina somewhere in her fifties with poker straight silver hair wrapped into a ponytail, smiled at Tamara as she passed. Tamara returned the cordial gesture effortlessly, pushing open the heavy door. She walked past the baby changing station and rounded the corner into a sizeable wash area.

  Abby was at one of the five sinks, leaning over on her hands, her head slightly bowed. Tamara took no notice.

  “Mom wants you,” Tamara said, matter-of-factly.

  Abby turned her head with effort. “All right. Be right there.”

  Tamara eyed her sister curiously. “Are you all right?”

  It took most of what little energy Abby had left to conjure the disingenuous smile she forged onto her face. “I’m fine. Just washing up.”

  “Okay,” Tamara said. “We’re in the same place as before.” Her mission complete, she turned and started to leave then stopped suddenly, whipping back around as if what she was about to say held great importance. “Oh, yeah. And Josh found a friend! Some girl from school.”

  “Wow,” Abby said listlessly. “That’s cool.”

  “Yeah. She seems really nice.”

  “Great. I’ll be right there,” Abby said in an attempt to close the conversation and hasten Tamara’s exit.

  “Okay,” Tamara responded, bounding away with Sniffles held over her head.

  Abby returned to the sink and stared into the basin. A thin string of drool oozed from her mouth as she spat emphatically. She raised her head and looked at herself in the mirror, stared into her own watery, bloodshot eyes. Slowly, she shook her head from side to side as if this gesture could will an outcome. And with a pleading expression, mouthed a single word to herself.