The Dead are Sleeping

The Dead are Sleeping

by Paul Westwood

Copyright 2017 Paul Westwood

Smashwords Edition

September 18th – late afternoon

Thomas Jacobs sat inside of his office, leaning back in his chair. He was busy studying a summer final exam paper, wondering why this student bothered to show up for the test. Valley University, where he worked, wasn’t exactly Harvard but tuition, even for a school of this size, wasn’t inexpensive. It wasn’t his place to consider the financial repercussions of a student’s choices, but he still felt guilty as his red pen went to work.

His small office on the third floor of the science building was crammed with papers, geology magazines, a desktop computer, different sized rocks and fossils displayed on shelves, and an assortment of dirty coffee cups bought from different locations around the country. It was a collection of clutter, each layer known only to the owner. Thomas was a man nearing middle-age with brown hair but with a touch of gray on his temples. Thanks to a strict regimen at the university gym he looked fit for his years, though the stomach, which seemed to have a mind of its own, was always a place of battle.

There was a knock at the open door. Thomas didn’t turn his head to look. Instead he finished writing a negative comment on the page. Once he was done, he looked up to see his next door office neighbor, who taught astronomy. William Meyers had a short stocky build that last saw the gym several decades ago, a bald egg-shaped head, and clothes that looked slept in. His rather frumpy exterior was broken by an engaging grin.

Tom, are you going to keep burning the midnight oil?

Hey, Will. I just have a few more papers to grade and I’ll be done. Maybe I’m getting old but these students seem to be getting dumber by the year.

The bald man laughed. You’re just getting old. Can’t you remember when you were young? I mean who could concentrate on studying when all these young women are around? It isn’t like we live in a monastery.

Tom laughed at his friend. You’re incorrigible! A man your age shouldn’t be chasing the fairer sex. Why you’re old enough to be their grandfather.

Will frowned. Grandfather? I may be old but I’m still young where it counts. He tapped the side of his head. You’re still planning to go on the field trip tonight, aren’t you? It’s supposed to be the biggest meteor shower that history has ever recorded. It will be unlike anything we’ve seen before.

I’m sure it will be, Tom said skeptically. Remind me again why I should bother.

His expression turning serious, Will replied, Because we are teachers and our students expect us to guide them. How often do our chosen professions intersect? I can describe, with beautiful detail, the heavenly origin of the meteorite while you can bore them with the more mundane, like what the little rocks are made out of. How many times can a geologist teacher actually be listened to? Anyway there will be some lovely specimens of co-eds there. I’m sure one of them would take a shine to you.

I’m a married man, Tom reminded his friend.

Why yes you are. I sometimes forget that, he said slyly. By the way how is Anne doing these days?

As good as always. Why do you ask?

William replied with a grin. The faculty scuttlebutt machine got to work in overtime when you married to her last year. I mean what made a confirmed bachelor like you finally give in to the female trap? Personally I think you broke a lot of hearts here at school, especially the entire social science department, including the men. William’s hatred of the soft science was well-known. He was the type of individual who preferred to see the world in black and white; like a complex mathematical equation that only be solved by someone as smart as he was. It was a flaw that kept him, unlike Tom, perpetually lonely since no woman could stand his self-inflated ego for long.

I had no idea I was the topic of idle gossip.

His friend shrugged. I’m sure it’s just jealousy. You know how it goes, some people are only happy when others aren’t. Now speaking of happiness, are you still planning on going to the meteor show tonight? You said you would.

Tom didn’t really want to go since his life had been too stressful lately with work and the recent reorganization of his world which revolved around the sun called Anne. He would like a quiet night at home with her, a chance to play some music, and drink some red wine. The two of them could talk all night about anything under the sun. There had been too little of this lately since the both of them had been coming home exhausted from work. Anne’s job as a legal assistant was always a rollercoaster of the unknown.

He finally replied, Of course I’ll go tonight. I mean what could be more fun than hearing you blather on while the students are sneaking drinks from a whiskey bottle?

That’s the spirit! Will exclaimed. We’re meeting in the parking lot at eight o’clock. I expect you to ferry a few students in that old Subaru of yours. We’ll be taking some back roads so that would help.

I’ll be there, Tom said glumly.

The astronomy professor didn’t notice this resistance. Instead he gave a friendly wave and sauntered off, leaving the office door open.

Tom sighed. He put the pen down, stood up and stretched. He checked the time on his phone and decided it was time to go home. He locked up, and left. Outside it was still hot. This part of summer always was but the nights were becoming cooler, a subtle sign that the season was coming to an end.

August 15th – Evening

Tom pulled into the driveway of his ranch house. It was a small place without much yard. The neighborhood was, at one time, predominantly working class. Its proximity to the university had seen an increase in property values, and the slow exodus of the original inhabitants, who gladly took the money and ran to Florida. The new residents took to a flurry of additions, and even more extreme tear downs and rebuilds. The entire area was now always busy with construction workers and heavy trucks.

He parked, locked his car, and then went inside through the side door.

Is that you, Tom? a woman’s voice called out from the kitchen.

Of course it is, he answered back. Were you expecting someone else?

His wife was standing at the countertop, slicing some vegetables for a nearby salad bowl. Tom thought she looked as beautiful as ever. He always felt a little nervous around her as if the marriage was just a dream and he was about to wake up to find himself alone.

Anne Tyler was of medium height with a sharply defined face, large brown eyes, and auburn hair. She was wearing a black skirt that fell to the knees, stocking with no shoes, and a dark green sleeveless top. Her movements were graceful like a dancer, as if carefully thought out before executed. It added an ethereal quality that kept Tom mesmerized. He had met her at a dull university art exhibit, one that he only attended because of the free wine. A few glasses later and he found himself arm in arm with a woman who had caught his eyes. Together they made snide comments at the exhibits. It didn’t take long for numbers to be exchanged and for a more formal date to happen. It was then that he had discovered that Anne was a kindred spirit: unconventional and not afraid to say what’s on her mind. Marriage was only a few months later.

The speed of the whole relationship had been a shock to Tom. He had never expected or wanted to be married, but Anne had changed all of that. They were happy together, but there was still this feeling of uneasiness, like a temporary truce as they both figured each other out.

Make me a drink, darling? his wife asked. And lots of ice. I’ve got to watch these steaks.

A gin and tonic is coming right up.

He went to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of gin. A trip to the refrigerator and freezer and a pair of tall drinks were ready to go. He brought one to his wife, who took an appreciative sip before tossing the salad.

How about some music? she suggested.

I was just about to suggest the same thing. Carrying his drink in one hand, Tom first kicked off his shoes and then went to the living room where his stereo was. The collection of electronics, speakers, and turntable were his pride and joy. He selected a Chet Baker album and placed it on the record player. Once the arm dropped, music poured out of the speakers. He stood back a few feet and listened to the sound of the trumpet. Once he was satisfied that everything was okay, he returned to the kitchen.

You heard about the meteor shower? she asked. It’s been all over the news. They’re saying it will be an amazing show. Everyone will be out to watch it.

Yeah I did. William wants me to go out with his astronomy class to watch it from some undoubtedly muddy field. You can come along if you want to.

Anne made a face. Oh. I was hoping to watch from our backyard. I do hate your friend Will when gets in one of his moods. He’s such a know-it-all professor at times. It reminds me of the bad parts of college.

I’m a professor too.

But you’re not a know-it-all. It gets tiresome.

So you don’t want to go?

She shook her head. I’m not fond of students fumbling with each other while that so-called friend of yours drones on about gravity, the planets, and other silly stuff that has no bearing on real life.

Tom snorted. Now you sound like an anti-intellectual. I suppose my work as a geologist has nothing to do with the real world either.

Anne turned her attention away from the stove to face him. A touch of a smile played on her lips. You academics are so sensitive. Of course your work is important, my dear. Without geology there wouldn’t be mines, or gold for jewelry, or oil. Your profession has uses.

Shaking his head, Tom decided to let the argument drop. He knew that she was just playing with him, a form of blowing off steam after a bad day at work. Her job as a legal assistant to a top-notch defense lawyer was not without its drawbacks. Tom also knew that she appreciated what he brought to the table: a steady income and the ability to match her sharp wits with his own. It was a seemingly vicious game that they played but there were boundaries too. Neither one walked away feeling hurt.

The steaks are ready, she said. Sit down and I’ll serve them. Do you want another drink?

He sat down at the dining room table. I better not. I have to stay sober if I want to be able to drive my car with a load of giggling students.

I’m sure that experience will be a real burden, she said dryly.

They both laughed in unison, breaking the tension. Tom said, Maybe you had better come along then to protect my virtue.

Maybe I should, she shot back, playfully. You might find someone that you really love.

A bottle of wine will help to ease any pain you encounter tonight.

It will take more than a bottle of wine to live through Will’s lecturing, but I’ll go along just to keep you out of trouble.

It’s agreed then.

They began to eat.

August 15th – Night

It was after ten. The sky, except for the dim light of the city on the western horizon, was inky black and sparkling with stars. Mars was low, just above the reaches of the pine trees that lined the large fallow field. Grasshoppers and tree frogs created a cacophony of noise. A warm breeze rippled through the air, brushing the tops of the weeds and creating an undulating wave that rippled with unknown patterns. In the middle of this field were students sitting on blankets. They were in a loose circle around William, who was standing, and Tom, who was sitting nearby with his wife.

Will was speaking: Meteors are mostly ice and sand fragments, though so-called dirty ones may also contain rocky fragments. My friend, Dr. Jacob, will fill us in on those geological details when I’m done talking, but needless to say the fragments are usually of a size much smaller than a pebble. Imagine something not much larger than a piece of dust. Because of this size, the meteorite won’t be able to get through the Earth’s atmosphere. Instead they burn up in a flash, creating the familiar streaking shooting star phenomenon.

A student in the back asked, Where do the meteors come from, professor?

William laughed. If you had read your textbook, Mr. Baker, then you would have known that the tails of comets, as they disintegrate from the heat of the sun, leave tiny fragments behind. There was a recent comet, named Malkowitz-Bader, which passed between Earth and Mars last year. What we are about to see are remnants of this planetary traveler. Though no one expected a show of such magnitude to occur. This will be a rare occurrence.

And just when are these remnant supposed to arrive? Baker asked, his voice beginning to crack with anger. He obviously was the type who reacted poorly to criticism.

Will made a show of looking at his watch. He then replied, Right about now. If you take a look behind you, you will see the beginning of the show.

There was a shifting of bodes and the turning of heads as the assembled students looked at the sky above. A trailing streak had just shot by, a thin razor of light that came and went in a blink of an eye. Tom wasn’t very impressed and was about to turn his attention to his wife to tell her so. But the gasp that came out of her made him return his attention to the view above. He saw the heavens light up with innumerable number of meteorites. And as the seconds ticked by, the intensity only grew until the darkness of night disappeared; so bright was the illumination of the objects striking the atmosphere.

Is this normal? Tom found himself asking Will. A quick glance and he saw that his friend was watching with a shocked face, slack jaw and wide eyes.

No, was the stilted reply. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Not in all my years.

Tom felt a deep fear well in his stomach and crawl up his throat. It was a primitive fear, animal in nature as if he wanted to get up and flee the coming danger. His logical brain said everything was okay. This was just a natural phenomenon, right?

The angle of the meteorites began to perceptibly change, seemingly closer with the trail of light ending before the horizon. Tom thought it was his imagination but he began to wonder if this little group was in any danger. This feeling multiplied when Anne reached over and clutched his hand. There was a sound of thunder, a rumbling in the distance. But the skies were clear. The gathered students looked back at their professor as if expecting him to offer an explanation.

Will said nothing. He was still standing with an almost imperceptible sway. His mouth was wide open. Tom noted that this was the first time he ever saw his friend speechless.

A single loud boom broke from above. Everyone’s attention returned to the sky. There was a brilliant flaming light that shone with a mix of red and orange. Tom could swear he felt the heat from the incoming rock. It flew overhead for only a second before striking the ground just near the edge of the trees. Instead of an explosion there was only a cloud of what looked to be smoke and churned dirt. Tom realized he had been holding his breath. He slowly let the air out of lungs, glad there was no explosion. A large asteroid would have been deadly, like the Tuskagee event that had destroyed miles of forest.

The onlookers let out a sigh of relief and, with curiosity, began to move toward the impact site.

Will held up a hand and announced: I want everyone to stay here. Tom and I will take a look.

The wind was still blowing, picking up the fine dust that had been blown into the air and spreading it even further. Tom gave his wife’s hand a reassuring squeeze before breaking away from the group. He didn’t remember ever feeling so scared before.

Together, Tom and Will began a cautious approach.

What in the hell just happened? Tom asked one they were out of hearing of the group.

Another meteor flew by, this time far to their right. It disappeared behind a hill, where a solitary farmhouse sat.

This didn’t seem to bother Will, who was regaining his composure. He answered excitedly, This is a major meteor strike, something never seen by human eyes. I mean we are talking real old world, pre-dinosaur days when the young Earth was just volcanic, and the seas hadn’t even formed. The tail of this comet must have flown closer to the sun than calculated to create so much debris. He glanced up at the sky. And the storm appears to be ending.

Tom glanced upward. The number of streaks zipping across the sky had decreased, now becoming just a random occurrence. The natural darkness of night was returning. This normality was comforting.

A thought crossed his mind. He asked his friend another question. You said that the meteorites burned up in the atmosphere; that they were so tiny that they never made it beyond. These fragments were big enough to survive the journey to the ground, yet there was no explosive impact. What happened here?

Will enthusiastically replied, That’s what I was hoping you could answer. Whatever the substance is, it must be beyond the strength of ice or rock, and even the mix of iron ore that’s common in asteroids. He paused to step around a rut in the field. If we can identify the composition of the meteorite before anyone else, then it would be an important scientific discovery. Why you and I could be on television!

If you say so, Tom commented without enthusiasm. He was still feeling shook up.

They came across the impact site soon enough. There was a scorch mark on the ground where the meteorite had hit. The air was thick with a strange white dust that floated in the air like dandelions. The particles stung their eyes and choked their mouths. Tom had to cough a few times and wave the air in front of his face so he could examine the area better.

What is this stuff? William wondered out loud, obviously annoyed.

There was no crater, or even an expected lump of ore. Instead there was a pattern of burn marks on the grass of the fallow field. In the center were fragments of a brown material that reminded Tom of coconut husks – fibrous and organic. He wondered what it was made out of. As his friend watched, Tom reached over and picked a scrap up. It was still warm. A thin layer of white dust covered one side.

That’s no rock, Will dryly commented. Do you have any idea what it is?

No, Tom replied. He put the husk down, feeling at unease. There was something wrong here. Maybe we should get back to the others.

That’s the best idea I’ve heard all night.

August 16th – Morning

Tom heard the alarm go off. He turned it off and then rolled out of bed to a sitting position. He felt tired and his eyes itched. Last night had been terrible for sleep. He had replayed the meteorite strike over and over in his mind, as if trying to find some new data from the experience. That was a fruitless exercise without more information.

Time to get out of bed, he said to Anne, who seemed to still be asleep.

She just groaned and rolled over.

You said that you’ve got to get to court at nine, Tom warned her. That doesn’t leave you much time.

She let out another groan. I don’t feel good.

Sick?

I feel like I have the flu. I’m so tired and nauseous. Anne sat up; the motion was apparently too much for her. She slumped back down on the bed to rest again.

Tom said, You were right, honey, we should have stayed home last night. Do you really have to go to work today?

I guess sitting out at night made me sick, she croaked out. I’m sure Jimmy won’t mind if I took one day off. Jim Tremaine was the lawyer she worked for.

You just stay in bed, Tom said, reached over to feel her forehead. It was burning hot. I’ll call your boss for you, okay?

Thanks, honey, his wife managed to say before dropping quickly into an uneasy sleep.

Tom looked at her, his expression creased with worry. After convincing himself that she was going to be okay, he went downstairs to brew some coffee. When that was bubbling along he called Jim Tremaine and told him the bad news. The lawyer took it in stride, wishing his employee the best.

Once the coffee was done, Tom