The Sleeping Gods Read online

The Sleeping Gods

  A short story by

  W E Scott

  Copyright 2011 Wendy Scott

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  Book cover photography by

  Kevin Rosseel

  Book cover design by

  Wendy Scott

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  The Sleeping Gods

  Wild dogs ate the High Priest Smith. This fact was solemnly reported by little Annie Hutchins, who was properly scolded by her parents for sneaking out of the compound. Then she was turned over to the clan's elders for a thorough questioning. They tried to impress upon her the gravity of such an outrageous claim, but she kept to her story.

  A week of pause. A search party was considered, rejected. Only the sanctioned were permitted into the wilderness, the Sleeping Gods were quite clear on that. Finally, the clan was forced to admit that a seven-year-old had indeed witnessed the demise of High Priest Smith. Appeasement was in order.

  The elders called the clan to the golden sanctuary. They called for sacrifices. They called for prayers; fervent, meaningful prayers.

  "There were two dogs," Annie reported. Two goats were sacrificed at the golden altar.

  "He didn't cry out," she insisted. The throat was wrenched from a pig, and the animal died in silence.

  And then they prayed. The elders placed Annie nearest the altar, for she had survived the wilderness, she was sanctioned. Annie clasped her hands obediently, closed her eyes tightly, pursed her lips in an effort to be more solemn. She heard the murmur of the clan behind her, drifting through the upper ranks of the sanctuary.

  A rasp distracted her, and Annie opened her eyes. Gold sparkled and shimmered and danced in the light of five hundred candles, one for each year of the Sleeping Gods" repose. How she loved this chamber. She would often sneak in here to be closer to her Gods, and sometimes she thought she could hear them breathing.

  The whispered supplications continued behind her, but Annie could no longer ignore the rasping ahead. It drew her. She stood up, focused beyond the altar, cautious as she stepped, not to disturb the prayers behind her, careful to avoid the gore at the altar, curious to find the source of the noise. She was sanctioned, she repeated once, twice, again and again.

  She must hear the Sleeping Gods" voices. She approached the vessels that held them. She gasped. The lid of the closest one stood open, the frost all but cleared from the glass that had obscured her God. Her little mouth formed a perfect circle, her eyes widened as she stared with wonder at the Sleeping God who had awakened.

  He returned her gaze, then slowly his eyes followed the hushed whispering to the mass of kneeling figures in the chamber below. Then he saw the bloody altar, the two unopened canisters beside him, and finally returned to Annie. She dared not move or even breath. Her God smiled weakly at her, encouraging her to tiptoe closer, to reach a tiny hand up to touch his. He smiled again, stronger this time, and sunshine rose across little Annie's face.

  * * *

  "They ripped us off, Jimmy boy," Jack Flemming's voice worried the chamber walls. Annie and Jim Alderborough looked up together. They sat amidst piles of black binders, one of which lay open in Jim's lap. Flemming stood in front of them, a shotgun in one hand, a gold brick in the other.

  "Thank God this still works," he lifted the weapon, "but there's not much ammo left." Alderborough leaned forward, whispered in Annie's ear. The child nodded, then stood and ran across the sanctuary, pausing briefly at a far door before she disappeared.

  "Don't talk like that in front of her, she's just a kid."

  "I'm telling you, they ripped us off. Look." Flemming shoved the brick toward Alderborough. Gold flakes flittered to the ground at their feet.

  "Is there any of it left?"

  "Couple dozen ingots, that's all. I don't know why I let you talk me into this cryo shit. We could have left the country, you know."

  "With half a ton of gold? That's real smart thinking Flemming."

  "It was supposed to be ten years." Flemming walked over to the middle cryonic canister, tracing his initials lightly over the frosted glass. "And what about the good Dr. Kowalski? I think he's dead." He turned and studied Alderborough. The other man shrugged.

  "So much for scientific genius, huh?"

  Alderborough bowed his head, re-reading the page that lay open in front of him.

  "There was a holocaust. Near as I can figure out, it must have happened a couple of years after we went under. It's all here." He swept his arm across the piles of binders. "Holy Binders. That's what they call them. Listen to this." Alderborough scrambled over the floor, reached for another binder and flipped through the first few pages. He ran a finger down the lines of hand-written script, then cleared his throat.

  " 'Yea tho I walked through the valley of the shadow of death,

  But I believed.

  And it came upon me, in the third year,

  But I believed.

  And the Holy Trinity descended upon me in its gilded vessels,

  And verily I believed.

  I heard behind me a great voice, as of a trumpet,

  Saying, we are Alpha and Omega.

  Write the things which thou hast seen,

  And the things which are,

  And the things which shall be hereafter.

  Thus thou art charged.

  And thus thou shalt be anointed as prophet.

  And I believed.

  Gather unto thy breast a flock, the chosen,

  And among them, command a sanctuary unto which only the chosen shall dwell.

  Thou shalt know the wealth of our gifts,

  Thou shalt fear no evil, no enemy,

  For thou art the chosen,

  And thou art the prophet among chosen.

  Thus thou shalt leadeth them in our name,

  Until we are risen.

  And verily I believed.' "

  Alderborough looked up. Flemming snorted, ran a hand across his forehead. Flecks of gold paint remained.

  "Clever bastards, these High Priests. Hand pick a few traumatized survivors and convince them only the chosen get to wait on them hand and foot, all in the name of the Sleeping Gods. Parade the gold and cryonic canisters as proof. Powerful stuff."

  "Well, it worked, didn't it? Except for Kowalski. There's supposed to be three of us; it's starting to make them edgy. I wish we could figure out how to revive him."

  "To hell with that. I think we should grab the rest of the gold, the real stuff, and figure out how to get out of here."