Andrew's eyes flew open. He found himself lying on his back in bed, drenched in sweat, his shirt clinging to him like a leach. His alarm clock on the bedside table buzzed loudly. He lay listening to it for a moment. He had just had one of the craziest dreams, but he could not begin to remember what it had been about. All he could recall was dashing into the street and being run down by a semi truck. Just as the tires were about to turn him into a large bit of roadkill, he had jolted awake to discover that truck's horn had actually been his alarm clock.
Finally, Andy brought his fist down on top of the squawking clock. There was a crunch and the buzzing gave over to more suitable silence. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. He squinted at his cracked alarm clock, as he stretched, popping the stiffness out of his back, which popped and cracked loudly. The clock's digital display, now blank, gazes back at him like a spiritless eye. He grunted with satisfaction, and heaved himself to his feet.
"Crazy dream," He muttered to himself, as he padded down the hall, toward the kitchen, " what did I eat last night?" He thought about it, but could not remember. It must have been something spicy, he reasoned.
A police car raced down the street past his house, its sirens blaring.
Andy ignored it as he fetched himself a box of cereal from the cupboard. He took a seat at the kitchen table, and poured himself a bowl. After an speedy search he located the remote, and switched on the television, which was conveniently preset to the cartoon network. His curious dream was quickly forgotten.
Another police car roared by.
Today was Monday, and Andy was well aware that he was supposed to be at work in an hour, but he figured that he could use the hangover excuse a couple more times, before anyone discovered that he, in reality, did not drink. He could walk in an hour and a half late if he was lucky.
So he settled down to breakfast and one of his personal favorite episodes of Loony Toons. Daffy Duck, portraying a bumbling Robin Hood character, swung on a vine repeatedly into the side of a tree. Andy laughed aloud.
Sirens wailed as one more police car blasted by his house. Another closely followed it.
Andy glanced out the window; more annoyed by the disturbance that curious as to why some many cops were out at seven in the morning. He lived in a fairly well behaved neighborhood. He shrugged it off and turned his attention back to the television
Then, just as Daffy swung headfirst in to a boulder, splitting in two, the local news cut in with a special report.
Disappointed, Andy picked up the remote and switched off the tube before he had a chance to see what the report was about. It had to be important for the station to cut in on the program. More likely than not, it had something to do with all the cops. Right now, Andy did not really care. If it were honestly that urgent it would be on the news that evening, he could catch it then.
He tossed his half full cereal bowl into the sink, splattering
milk across the counter, and headed toward the bathroom. Perhaps he
would get to work on time today, for a change.
Andy pulled his car into an empty parking space. It was not as close to the door as he might have preferred; in fact it was not even on the same side of the street, as the company were he had employment. But his position, file clerk, was equivalent to pissant at F.C. Dodgsens and Co., and pissants never got a good parking space. Never. Andy did not complained, because the situation gave him another excuse to be late.
As it turned out, he did not arrive at work on time, as he had planned, due to the fact that the police had blocked all streets leading into the city, thus making ones way out of the suburbs a much longer process that usual. The police officers positioned at the roadblock he needed to pass were evidently watching for a certain kind of car, and everyone got stopped for a few seconds, which ultimately created quite a backlog. By the time Andy reached them, it was obvious that they were already weary of their task, and he was waved through without even being looked at. Apparently, the law did not want somebody to into to town. Andy fleetingly wished he watched the special report that morning. Ultimately, he did not give it much thought. He could ask the receptionist when he punched in.
He crossed the street, straightened his tie, looking at his reflection in a car window, and sauntered through the large glass double doors that marked the entrance to his office building.
"Hey Cathy!" he said as he passed her the receptionist's desk, " what's up with the cops? Who don't they want in the city?"
"Because," Cathy replied, " Evidently last night-" She looked up from her work for the first time. A hand flew to her mouth as she stifled a scream. "You-" she said her eyes wide with fright," How did you-? What are you doing here?"
"I work here." Andy replied raising an eyebrow.
" No- But you-How did you-?" She stopped sputtering abruptly, snatched up one of many phones hidden behind the counter, and punched in a four-digit number.
"Security!" she gasped into the receiver," He's here! -Yes right in front of my desk! -I don't know!!"
"Look," Andy spoke up, " I'm not sure what the problem is, but if it has anything to do with my being late, I think you are-"His voice trailed off as he glanced toward the television set in the far corner of the lobby. A middle aged man sat behind an enormous desk reading off a teleprompter. Andy could not hear what the man was saying but he clearly recognized his own face on the grainy white mug shot displayed in the corner of the screen.
Puzzled, Andy left Cathy, who had ceased sputtering into the phone and now cowered behind the counter, and crossed the room. He crouched down before the television in order to clearly hear what the anchorperson said.
"-ever in the history of the prison," the newscaster was saying, "Prison officials claim that last night convicted murderer Simon Gordell escaped from solitary confinement, although no one knows how. There were no signs of a breakout or of a struggle of any kind. The night guards on duty claim to have seen nothing out of the ordinary, and the security cameras, when the tapes were reviewed, also showed nothing. As nearly as anyone can tell Simon Gordell simply disappeared. His whereabouts are as of yet unknown, but we are told he may return to the scene of his crimes. City police are blocking all-"
Andrew stood up, " I think I know what's going on. This is all a big misunderstanding!" He said, " See, I only look like this Gordell character. I am Andrew Benson. I-"
Just then an elevator door slid open and several armed security guards rushed out. They immediately converged on the corner of the lobby were Andy stood.
For some reason, at that moment, Andy realized that he had never seen one of the security personnel carry a gun before. He wondered if they knew how to operate one.
He backed into a corner, his hands up. "Look fellows," He said, " there has been some kind of mistake. I'm not Simon Gordell. I just look like him."
"Shut up and stand still," the guard who seemed to be in charge snapped, "we don't want anyone to get hurt." The other guards quickly spread out, and blocked all the exits.
"You have the wrong guy! I'll show you!" Andy reached for his wallet and pulled out him driver's license "See?" he said holding it up.
"Stop this nonsense!" the guard shouted, " get that thing out of my face!" He batted at Andy's outstretched hand.
"Just look at it!" Andy shouted back, "It says right here that-" just at that moment he glanced down at his own drivers license and saw alarmed at what he saw. In the space labeled 'name', it read 'Simon Martin Gordell'.
Andy yelped in surprise and dropped the card. "That isn't mine!" He cried, "I don't know where that came from!"
The security guard swept Andy's license away with his foot, " Now," he said, "Just stay there and don't give us any more trouble. The police are on their way." Andy could here the wail of sirens in the distance.
He suddenly felt a curious weight in his hand. He looked down, and was stunned to find that he was holding a shotgun. Oddly no one else in the room seemed to notice the sudden appearance of the weapon. Andy saw his chance, and raising the gun, pulled the trigger.
There was a roar and the foremost guard's head caved in. He tumbled over backward and fell to the ground with a nauseating splat. Confusion immediately broke out among the remaining guards. The air was filled with shouts, and the sound of bullets being racked. Andy pulled off two more shots, dropping another guard, before his enemies had a chance to come together against him.
Andy ducked to the floor as shots filled the air. He snatched up the dead guard's rifle and rose to his feet. He fired both weapons from the hip. A third guard fell, clutching his stomach. Out of the corner of his eye Andy caught a glimpse of Cathy, the frightened receptionist, slumped against the wall, a hole in her forehead.
The wide plate glass window at that faced the parking lot exploded outward, unable to withstand the rain of bullets. Andy squeezed off two more rounds, dropped the guns and bolted for the window.
He sprinted across the parking lot in the direction of the street. He did not think about where he was going, he simply ran. The scream of police sirens sounded closer. Shouts echoed from behind him as the three remaining guards gave chase. A car window shattered next to him as a bullet barely missed his head.
I'm a murderer now, Andy thought, All I wanted to do was go to work. How could this have happened? All I wanted was to get paid so I could make the rent this month. I'm a murderer.
He reached the end of the parking lot, crossed the sidewalk, and dashed into the street.
It suddenly occurred to him that if he could reach the parking tower on the opposite side of the road. If he could get to his car. Maybe he could-
Andy heard the blast of a horn and stopped short. A massive semi tractor-trailer barreled down the highway right in his direction. He froze in his tracks, unable to move. A feeling of de ja vu, that he could not quite place, lurched in the back of his mind. It was as though he had been in this situation before.
The truck loomed, blotting out the sun, baring down on him, the
continuous blast of it's horn ringing in his ears.
Andy jolted awake and his head whacked on the edge of the bathtub with a dull hollow sounding thump. He cursed, clapped a hand to the back of his fractured head, and sat up.
"Why am I in the bathtub?" He exclaimed angrily. The back of his crown was already developing quite a nasty goose egg. He hoisted himself out of the tub, and sat down heavily on the toilet seat. He had not gone to bed in the bathtub. He was sure of it. He distinctly remembered climbing into bed and falling asleep. He also recalled having an uncommonly weird dream, but awaking in the wrong place and his bashed head were more important right now.
He recollected hearing somewhere that waking up somewhere other than where you went to bed was a sign that you were victim of an alien abduction. But he had always thought that such talk was a whole pile of nonsense made up by crazy people, so he hastily put the notion out of his mind. A more logical explanation was that he had been sleepwalking. Andy had had a terrible, although unconscious habit of sleepwalking, when he had been younger, but he had been remedied of that for at least fifteen years. The doctors explained to his parents that his somnambulism might recur if he underwent some sort of shock or personal tragedy. But in such an event not to worry, it would discontinue with time.
He pushed himself quickly to his feet and instantly regretted it. A night in the bathtub had left every one of his larger joints stiff, effectively preventing any hurried movements. He cursed again, and stumbled out the bathroom, one hand one his head, which by this time had developed quite an inconspicuous lump, and the other on his back, which creaked audibly with every step.
It was turning out to be a horrible day.
Andy felt better after having some breakfast. His head no longer throbbed like a toothache, and his joints had loosened considerably. The prospect of sleepwalking again bothered him, but he was not sure what to do about it. He could go back to a doctor, and get treatment again, but he recalled hating the weekly visits to the clinic when he had been a boy. I supposed he could live with sleepwalking so long as he did not wake up in the bathtub again.
Andy shoved back his chair and tossed his mostly empty cereal bowl into the sink. It clattered about the sides of the sink for a few moments and finally came to rest in the bottom. He shoved back his chair and stood up; it was about time for him to get ready for work. Just as he reached the hallway, the front door burst open, one of the hinges breaking off, and two darkly dressed men, both with dark greased hair, rushed in toting heavy looking rifles.
"Freeze!" The man in the middle shouted, "You are under arrest!"
"Who are you?" Andy asked startled by their abrupt appearance, "Look what you did to my door!"
"Shut up!" The man in black bellowed, "prisoners are not allowed to speak!"
"Who are you?" Andy repeated, "What did I do?"
"We are government operatives. Thought division. In is our duty it unsure that everyone's thoughts and speech are sanctioned. Your recent actions have been highly questionable."
Andy scratched his head in puzzlement, "What are you talking about?"
"Sleepwalking," The man said, as other man moved stealthily forward, "is not permitted."
"How could you possible know about that?" Andy took a step back.
The man smiled in a rather friendly way and nodded toward the corner of the living room. Andy looked in that direction, and was more than a bit surprised to see a camera bolted to the ceiling. "You can't spy on me!" He cried out, "I have rights! There is nothing wrong with sleepwalking! I was cured of in before!"
"The man laughed aloud. "Where have you been?" He asked, "Yes we can spy on you. No you don't have rights. And yes there is something wrong with sleepwalking. We tried to cure you of it because we thought you help promise in the furthering of our cause. Evidently we were mistaken. Now shut your mouth and come with us. I could be severely punished for allowing you to speak."
Andy took another step back, and glanced over his shoulder. The back door to his house was directly behind him. It stood open. The other man slowly inched closer, his weapons ready.
"Come peacefully," the first man said. He started to say something more but before he could get it out Andy turned and bolted out the back door, leaped off the porch and sprinted toward the woods behind his house. The second man started forward, but the first stopped him with a wave of his hand. "Don't waste your breath," he said as his partner returned to his side, "He will never escape." He touched the lapel of his suit and spoke in the tiny microphone in the collar. "The subject is running," He said. He paused, listening. "Take him alive only as a last resort. We what him dead."
He touched his lapel again and looked at his cohort. "Keep a bullet in the chamber boys," He said, "This could get interesting."
"How long do you think He will survive out there?" The second man spoke for the first time.
"I give him five minutes." The first replied, "Everyone will know by this time, and be watching for him. He won't get far."
Andy stumbled through the muggy overgrown woods; brambles slapping at his face like an angry lover; his shoes sloshing through the mud, socking his socks and pant legs. He hadn't the foggiest notion how large this forest was or what lay on the other side, nor did he care. The only thought on his mind as to get as far away from this insane Orwellian world he somehow stumbled into. Away from the camera in his house. Away from the Thought Police that were chasing him.
A helicopter roared overhead.
Andy heard voices far behind him. He kept running.
Another helicopter went by above his head.
He slipped in the muck on the forest floor, and fell flat on his face with a wet splat. He pushed himself back to his feet, and not bothering to wipe the dirt out his eyes, ran off again.
Suddenly he burst into the open on the sidewalk of street he had never seen before. Houses lay on the opposite side. He could get into one and find a place to hide. He could hide until this was over. He quickly glanced one way them the other, and seeing no armed black men bolted into the street.
Halfway across the road he heard the sound of an engine and a laugh. He stopped short; a large armored truck rolled slowly down the center in the thoroughfare a wild haired man with a toothy grin leaning out the driver's side window. "Sleepwalker!" the driver shouted, revving the engine, "I have you now!" He threw back his head, and let out a maniacal laugh.
Andy turned and made dash for the other side of the avenue, but not soon
enough. The truck driver floored it and lurched forward. Andy watched
the trucks rusted radiator grille rush up to meet him, the image of the
truck driver's crooked grin frame behind his eyes, his wild laugh echoing
in his head.
Andy jumped awake and bolted upright in his bed. Sweat ran down is face, stinging his eyes and leaving a salty taste in his mouth. Dull morning light filtered through the curtains and drifted across his scattered blankets. The clock on his bedside table read 6:56.
The first thing that struck him was the silence. It was unnaturally quiet. Not a single bird could be heard chirping in the grove of trees that stood behind Andy's house. Nor could any cars be heard passing on the street, which usually bore quite a bustle of traffic at this hour.
Second, he became aware that he had a splitting headache. His head throbbed between his temples like a bomb going off inside his head. He seemed to recall having a particularly disturbing dream, but could not begin to bring to mind anything about it other than something regarding a semi truck. Whatever it had been it had definitely succeeded in giving a winner of a headache
He pushed himself to his feet, staggered for a moment, his head spinning, and stumbled toward the bathroom for some aspirin.
Upon reaching the lavatory, he swung open the medicine cabinet and rummage through the mess of drugs that were piled into it. Finally, he located some stuff that looked as though it might do what he had in mind. He clumsily popped the top and shook two tiny pills into his hand. He dry swallowed them and leaned heavily on the counter, staring at himself in the mirror. He was quite a sight with his matted hair and sleep filled eyes. He needed a shower.
Presently the pain inside his skull faded, and he began to feel better. He suddenly was struck again by how deathly quiet it was. It was unsettling. Never in the ten years he had occupied this house had he ever experienced a morning so dormant. He gazed out the bathroom window for a moment, his brow furrowed. Then he abruptly dropped everything and headed outside to investigate, his curiosity piqued.
A stiff chilly breeze greeted Andy as he swung open the front door and stepped out onto the front porch. A low blanket of clouds hung from one horizon to the other. Goose bumps crawled up his arms, and he hugged himself tightly in a futile attempt to ward off the chill. At length he went back into the house and retrieved his housecoat. Returning to the porch, he surveyed his lifeless neighborhood. The streets lay deserted without a car in sight. An overturned garbage can tumbled down the sidewalk, driven by the bitter wind like a forlorn tumbleweed. Every other house on the street lay dark and tomblike.
"Where is everyone?" He wondered aloud as a stepped off the porch and walked toward the street.
"Hello!" he called, "Is anyone out there?" The silent empty houses echoed back his voice. They seemed to mock him. "Anyone?"
Now he was on the sidewalk, walking away from his house. The cold air was beginning to batter its way through his housecoat, but he ignored it.
"Hello?" he called again without much hope in getting a response. He passed the gas station at the corner of his street. A car stood at one of the pumps, the nozzle in the back of the car, still pumping gas, which spilled over onto the ground, and ran into the rain gutter like a flammable river. The dial on the pump read six hundred dollars.
Andy stood and watched this for a moment. It was as though whoever had been getting gas had, without warning, dropped everything and left, not caring about the wasted fuel. Suddenly someone touched his shoulder. He let out a hoot of surprise
"I'm sorry!" The man standing behind him cried out as Andy spun around. "I didn't mean to frighten you!"
"Don't do that," Andy gasped, his hand on his chest.
"I'm sorry," The man repeated.
"Forget it," Andy replied, "who are you anyway? You're the first person I've seem all morning." He looked closely at the man standing opposite him. He was an elderly man donned in slightly tattered clothes. He had a grimy mop of white hair and bushy eyebrows. His wide eyes gave him a look of wisdom.
"I'm Simon," the man replied, thrusting his hands into his pockets, "and there are lots of people around if you know were to look."
That name seemed very familiar to Andy, but he could not think where he might have heard it. He did not know anyone named Simon that he could recall. "What do you mean? If I know where to look?" He asked.
"Everyone I've seen is downtown looting all the stores." He turned and pointed to a subtle glow on the horizon. "See the fire?" he asked, "That's where all the people are."
"But my whole neighborhood is gone. Where did all the other people go?
"They have all been taken," Simon replied. The two of them were walking down the street in the direction of the city. Simon suddenly stopped and sat down on a bench at a bus stop. He motioned for Andy to join him. "Taken?" Andy asked sitting down next to his new friend.
"For you yourselves know full well that the day of the Lord will come just like a thief in the night." Simon said, half to himself it seemed.
"What?" Andy asked, befuddled.
"First Thessalonians 5 verse 2. Didn't you ever go to Sunday school?"
"My family was never very religious."
"Ah. Well, then you must be especially confused hadn't you?"
"All I know is that when I went to bed last night this city was full of people," Andy waved his arm at the view before them, the burning building off to their right had grown brighter, "and when I woke up this morning everyone was gone. Quoting Bible verses won't help me much because I never went to church."
"Do you believe in God?" Simon asked.
"I never had much use for God, really. I always got along fine on my own, you know?"
"Yes, but do you believe that he exists?"
"I guess so, I mean how else could you explain where we came from? I don't put much stock in evolution."
"I did not believe in God before tonight," Simon said, "but I do now, and if you had seen the things I have seen in the past three or four hours, you would too"
"What have you seen?" "Last night, at around three o'clock I'd say, I could not sleep and thought I'd take a walk."
"Why would you go out at three in the morning?" Andy interrupted.
"Because no one would bother a homeless man now would they?"
"Oh." Andy felt a bit sheepish, "I-" He stopped
"Yes. Well, I was walking, and a taxi came down the street in my direction. All off a sudden, the thing swerved off the road going about forty or so and smashed right into a telephone pole. I ran over to see if any one was hurt, thinking maybe the driver was drunk or something, and discovered that the wrecked car was totally empty. No one in it. I kept walking and found other wrecked cars, all with no drivers. As far as I could tell nearly everyone in the whole city had disappeared. After awhile other people came out, and evidently came to the same conclusion as I did. They all smashed the store windows, and making off with the abandoned merchandise. I got scared and ran. You are the first person I've seen who seems civilized."
"So how did this all cause you to start believing in God?"
"The only way I could explain what I had seen was by a thing I had learned about in church when I was little. They had a name for it, but I don't remember it off hand."
"This thing you learned? What was it?"
"It is when the Lord returns in the clouds and calls his followers to heaven."
"You sure know a lot about the Bible, for not believing in God. "
"Oh, I went to church every Sunday as a kid. My parents made me. I knew everything but never actually believed it. Now it is too late and I see that I was wrong."
"Well," Andy pushed himself to his feet and stretched his arms above his head, "I'm not sure exactly how to respond to all this."
"Think about it," Simon replied, "You might like what you find."
"Yeah. I think I'll do that." Andy's stomach rumbled. "But right now I am a bit hungry. Do you know were I can get some food?" he asked, "I'm hungry."
Simon pointed across the street. "That grocery store has all the food you could ever want. That's where I ate."
"I think I'll go fix myself something."
Simon stood up and stuck out his hand, "It was good talking with you, but I have to be moving on."
Andy grasped his hand firmly, "Yeah, you too. And good luck."
"Maybe we'll meet again," Simon said. With that he turned and began to walk away. He looked over his shoulder once and waved.
Andy waved back. He watched the old man until he lost sight of him around a corner.
Interesting old guy, Andy thought, Perhaps I'll look into what he was talking about.
The sun had risen higher in the sky, making the glow of burning buildings downtown somewhat less noticeable, although nothing could hide the columns of black smoke spiraling into the sky. The wind had died down and goosebumps no longer stood out on Andy's arms, but he would still have looked rather uprooted on the street in his housecoat, had anyone else been around.
None of these things occupied Andy's mind as he set out toward the Piggily Wiggily across the street. All he thought about at this point in time was the empty city and breakfast. He padded across the black asphalt in his stocking feet, his eyes on the store's inviting, open doors.
He crossed the centerline of the street, his eyes on the smiling chubby pig on the storefront. Up the street, the hulking shape of a semi truck, the words 'two men and a truck' painted carefully on the side, rounded a corner -
Name: Robin Crayne
Species: Homo Sapiens
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 135 lb
Location: Grand Rapids MI
E-mail: drive-ride@Juno.com
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