Sleepwalker

by Michael Laimo

  Janice eyed her husband quizzically. “You’ve been here three days and you keep asking me that, and I keep telling you yes, the house is clean. Since when are you so concerned about the house?”

  Leonard shrugged his shoulders, smiling at her.

  “And why are you looking at me like that? You’re making me blush.” She smiled. Been a long time since Leonard saw her smile so much. She was happy. Her face said, I love you, Leonard. I’m glad to have you back.

  “Although I can’t remember much of anything,” he lied, “I know I’m lucky to be alive, and that I’m even luckier to have you and my son as my family.”

  Pam had said I’d forget much of what happened. So how come I remember everything?

  “Leonard, we’re just as lucky to have you back with us. There was no trace of you after you’d gone missing, and I was frightened that you’d...you’d...”

  “Picked up and left?”

  “Yes.”

  “Died, maybe?”

  “Well, the thought entered my mind.”

  “Listen to me. I will never leave you Janice. I love you, will always love you, and any frustrations that occurred between us in the past, well, consider it ancient history. From here on in, it’s just me and you and Greg.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m retiring.”

  She placed a hand over her mouth. “Len? Why?”

  “Why? Because I want to spend as much of the rest of my life with you, make up for lost time. I want you to know that I appreciate you. I really appreciate you. And that there’s nothing else in the world I want other than you.”

  She hugged him. They cried tears of happiness.

  The phone next to the bed rang.

  Janice pulled away. “That must be Kevin. He wants to come down and see you today. He also wants to know what happened, Len.”

  He smiled. Everyone thinks I’m hiding the truth. Well, I am. He missed Kevin, wanted to see him too. Whether he told him the truth of the matter was something altogether different. He only hoped that the amnesia Pam spoke about would set in sooner than later.

  The phone rang a second time.

  He picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Officer Moldofsky?”

  “Yes?” The voice was familiar.

  “This is Earl Porter, from Bledson Hills. Remember me? Sheesh, it’s taken me a long time to track you down!”

  Shit! Leonard was silent. Scared.

  “Anyway, the woman promised that you’d tell me everything that happened. And I need to know because nobody here believes me. I need some back-up.”

  What was it that Pam had said? It’s safe to say that Earl won’t remember anything about this experience by tomorrow. So why does he remember everything? For this, amnesia would have to kick in, no matter what.

  “Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “But--”

  He hung up.

  “Who was that?” Janice asked.

  At that moment Kevin Hughes walked in. Behind him, Leonard’s son, Greg. No spiked hair, no earrings, no Iron Maiden tee-shirt.

  Kevin smiled. “How’re you doin’, boss?”

  “Not bad.”

  “When you get yourself all situated, I’ve got all the blood tests back from George. I’m sure you’ll be interested in the results.”

  Leonard grinned. He was way past that right now. “No thanks.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m officially retired.”

  “Really?”

  Leonard nodded, looked at Janice. Smiled.

  She asked, “So who was that on the phone?”

  Leonard closed his eyes. Smiled again. He’d never been happier his entire life. “Wrong number.”

  One Year Later

  “There’s a pot of sauce on the stove. Let it simmer for a couple of hours, then take it off the heat. Put the cover on in case it splatters.”

  Richard dunked a piece of Italian bread into the pot then put it in his mouth. Delicious. Who’d have thought that Samantha was such a good cook in this world? She came into the kitchen, dressed in a long brown maternity blouse and a pair of black leggings. Her hair was its natural dirty blonde, done up beautifully. She had her black leather pocketbook draped over her shoulder. “Hey, no picking,” she said.

  Richard sunk another piece of bread into the pot. “Too good. Can’t help myself.”

  “Listen to your wife,” Julia said from the living room. “You’ll spoil your appetite.”

  “Just like a mother to say something like that.”

  Richard sidled up next to his wife, grabbed her by the hips. “What do you say that tonight we make another baby?”

  “We did that already.” She giggled, pushing him away.

  “So, let’s practice for the next one.”

  “Mom!” Debra’s booming voice shot down from her bedroom. Her running footsteps on the wood floor echoed throughout the house, and ended in the kitchen. The five year-old leaped into Richard’s arms. He picked her up and hugged her. “Mom, are we going yet?”

  “Now you behave and listen to your mother,” Richard said.

  “Okay,” she said, nodding, laughing.

  Richard contemplated Debra’s face, the innocence sparkling in her eyes. Thank God, she remembers nothing. He looked over at Julia, who was busy stuffing her purse with the senior necessities: tissues, antacids, reading glasses. Mother might be a different story. But she won’t talk. What had Dr. Delaney called it? Denial?

  “How long are you going to be?”

  “We’ll be shopping in Ashborough for about an hour, then the movie. So figure we’ll be back in time for dinner. About five.”

  “Okay. I’ll make sure the table is set.”

  “And keep an eye on the sauce.”

  Richard smiled. “Yes, hon...now get the hell out of here before I start calling you Mother by mistake.”

  “I resent that,” Julia chimed.

  “Now all of you, git!”

  They smiled, laughed, exchanged kisses. Samantha, Julia, and Debra left.

  And then, Richard Sparke, once a single guy with a lot of mental problems and a nighttime habit of sleepwalking, now a family man who lived the American Dream with a wife, daughter, and mother, was all alone.

  Being alone from time to time was something Richard cherished. He loved his family more than anything in the world, but after living an entire life (all three years of it) as a single--or divorced, rather--man in a condo, he found that alone time was something to help clear his mind.

  To help reflect on everything that’s happened.

  One thing for certain that remained was his memories. Pam had explained that most of his experiences would be forgotten, and she had the scientific theory to back it up. It seemed not to matter. Everything was still there, as clear as day. Did she lie to me? Maybe she really didn’t know. Or maybe something unforeseen happened after I left?

  He stirred the sauce one last time before settling down on the living room couch. He watched football for a half hour before finding himself nodding off...

  ...and Richard Sparke, the all-new family man fell asleep. At first it was an uneventful sleep, just the way he liked it. For the past year he enjoyed this very form of drowse, this dreamless slumber where his subconscious mind, free of all voices, went to sleep along with the rest of his body, and then he would awaken in what seemed like minutes but was a full eight hours of pure uninterrupted rest. He would rise from bed, wash, get dressed, and head off to work as a schoolteacher at the Michael P. Slater Elementary School. Often times Tom, the principal, would question his still yet unexplained leave of absence, but Richard would claim personal issues and simply utilized a month’s worth of sick days to offset the time he’d missed. And then he’d come home, play with Debra, eat dinner with the family, kiss Julia good-night before heading into the bedroom to make love to Samantha, sometimes fantasizing about Pamela, and then he would fall asleep only to repeat the process over and over again. />
  Richard Sparke, family man. Pleased to meet you.

  But now, in this afternoon snooze, things changed.

  Richard had a dream.

  He dreamed of the man in black.

  At first it was a shape, an odd haphazard image that carried no discernible threat. But soon the image grew into that of a man, dressed in black, wearing a mask with holes at the eyes and mouth. Richard tried to scream. He couldn’t. He tried to run. He couldn’t.

  And soon the blue light came. It filled his dreamscape like it had so many times in the past, at first floating above the couch where he lay and then settling down in the center of the living room. Am I dreaming, or am I awake? he kept asking himself over and over again, trying to shutter his eyes but finding it did no use because the light burned its way through his lids anyway, making him watch as the man in black tripped through, reached his hands down towards Richard, wrapped his fingers around his neck, started to squeeze, squeeze, squeeze...

  Richard startled awake, hyperventilating. Tears sprung from his eyes and coursed down his sweat-laden face.

  He sat up on the couch, listening to himself breath, in, out, in, out, keeping still, looking, watching, waiting...

  “No, it can’t be...”

  From over the side of the couch the man in black jumped up, hands reaching over the arm and grabbing Richard by the shirt. With his other hand he pulled his mask off. Jesus Christ, he was the spitting image of Richard. “Hey, Sparke. It’s showtime!”

  Richard brought his head forward, slamming it into the man in black’s head. His nemesis cried out and fell backwards. Richard scrambled out of the living room and into the kitchen. He grabbed a knife--the big steak one--from the butcher block on the counter

  (Déjàvu, all over again)

  and waited there, gasping, poised for defense.

  One second passed.

  Someone from behind grabbed him, an arm around his neck.

  “Don’t move.”

  He knew the voice. “Pam?”

  “He’s not as smart as the other one.”

  “What? How did you get here? What the hell is going on?”

  “Shh...”

  “What is this?” Richard whispered tersely.

  “It’s not over. I’m here to help.”

  “Jesus Christ, who the hell is he?

  Quietly Pam led Richard into the basement, shutting the door behind them. Once downstairs, Pam reached into her knapsack and removed the portable time-trip unit.

  “What the fuck, Pam? I thought you said you were going to destroy everything?”

  “I was going to. Until he showed up.”

  “And just who the hell is he?”

  “He’s Richard Sparke, the homeless man. The drug addict from the alley, remember? He was never killed. We’d completely forgotten about him because he was never a threat at the time. He was on death’s door right from the start, and we all figured he’d be dead without our help. But that never happened. No, instead, all this time he gathered information and knowledge and abilities from all of you through bleeding. He healed. And became smart. Very smart. Eventually he found a way to get through. I tried to stop him but I couldn’t.”

  Richard was in a panic. Above, the cellar door crashed opened. Footsteps came slowly on the wooden steps. Then, a gunshot rang out, tearing out a chunk of the knotty pine wall at the bottom of the steps.

  “Jesus Christ, Pam! What the hell are we going to do?”

  “We need to get away from him. Then, we have to kill him. After all, there can only be one Richard Sparke.”

  Richard looked at Pam with utter disbelief.

  She hugged him, and in that moment Richard got the impression, that despite the precarious circumstances, she was very happy to see him.

  He was happy to see her too.

  “Let’s go,” he said, grinning.

  Pam smiled back. She pressed a button on the unit.

  The blue light came.

  And then, they were gone.