Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

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   [Sullivan Handley]

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   *garbled* “-nd the casing?”

   “Sealed, sir.”

   “What about the detonators?”

   “Primary and secondary detonators primed. Blue Pluto content stable.”

   “Excellent, where is Dayton?”

   “The far east si-” *garbled* “-ould be ready at any time.”

   *silence*

   “Dayton, have the charges been set?”

   *Faintly* “Affirmative. The east side is locked down and Adam has finished preparations on the north and western ends. We’re he-“ *too faint to be heard* “-ndezvous at the complex. Whenever you’re ready Jamie.”

   *silence*

   “Do it.”

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    3 Days Earlier…

   “Daddy?”

   “Yes?”

   “Where is mommy?”

   “Do you remember what I told you?”

   “That she’s in Heaven where all the good people go?”

   “That’s right.”

   “Oh, okay. What about the man that hurt her? Is he in the place for bad people?”

   “He will be, sweetheart.”

   “Okay…”

   “Did you brush your teeth and say your prayers?”

   “Yes, I did.”

   “Okay, lights off sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning.”

   “Mkay, I love you daddy.”

   “I love you too.”

   The man lowered his hands, reached over, and planted a kiss on his beloved daughter’s forehead. Her wavy dirty blonde hair swept to one side has she removed the hearing aid from her ear and set it on the nightstand. She rolled back over and allowed her father to wrap the covers around her. She closed her eyes and let the warmth of her bed lull her into the deep recesses of sleep.

   Her father quietly stood up and exited the room, taking care not to shut the door too loudly on his way out. He paced his way through the halls of his suburban home over to his bedroom and gave the door a light push. Nothing was out of place, nothing ever was. His daughter didn’t enter his room without his permission and no one else lived in the house. He set himself down on the edge of his bed and picked up the cut out section of newspaper clipping that was pinned to his wall. The thin paper held a picture of a beautiful woman with short brown on the front next to a short paragraph explaining her untimely demise.

Rebecca Dufraisne, 38, found dead in boxing warehouse. (1974-2012)

Rebecca Dufraisne was found dead in the Chicago industrial boxing warehouse on the east side of the city. She was discovered when one of the warehouse’s employees was tasked with investigating the cargo crate in which she was held when the box registered 140lbs. heavier than a previous measurement. Police authorities indicated that Rebecca was brought to the location post-mortem and had been killed off site from multiple stab wounds. As of now, no trace as been found to the killer or killers involved in her murder. She is survived by her husband and daughter.

   The man on the bed buried his hands in his short brown hair and let out a shaky sigh. It had been almost 6 months since Rebecca had been killed and the days hadn’t been getting much easier. He envied his daughter in being able to continue her life so easily, but deep down he knew this wasn’t true. Why would she ask him about her every other week if she didn’t care?

   Many men would have allowed themselves to fall into a drunken stupor upon losing their loved one. Perhaps they would end up with the wrong crowd and get involved with criminals, eventually leaving them to rot in a prison cell while their daughters were raised by some scum of a human being that was in all reality probably no better than the father himself. But he hadn’t aloud himself to stoop to those levels. Most of the insurance money collected after Rebecca’s death had been put toward his daughter, buying batteries for her hearing aid and other necessities. She had been partially deaf since birth and most of the time she communicated with sign language considering that, even with her hearing aid, the world was mostly muffled. Without it, she could barely, if at all, hear. This made him all the more aware of why he needed to stick by her side. He convinced himself that he had no time to grieve, that the job of being a full time father was more important.

   He set his head down on his pillow and buried his face deep within the folds. He wasn’t tired, but he didn’t have the energy to do much else. Looking over at the bag next to him, he set down the obituary clipping that had never left his hand and unzipped it. Folders and various papers were neatly arranged for easy access. He pulled out a folder and removed the sheet labeled “Budget”.

   Glancing over it he saw nothing of particular interest which, in this case, was a good thing. He hadn’t been over zealous with his spending, and the majority of his funds went to either payments on the house, groceries, or his daughter. In truth, the budget idea had been Rebecca’s; he found no need for it until her death. She had been the organized one, and had restricted him from making highly unnecessary purchases. Without her to watch over him, he had to learn to limit his excess spending, in favor of dealing with the more important tasks first.

   “Daddy!”

   The man discarded the paper and quickly made his way to his daughter’s room.

   Probably another nightmare.

   He threw the door open to find his daughter standing in front of the window, her figure obscured by the curtain. Feeling the weight of his heavy footsteps on the ground, she twirled around and faced her father.

   “Something’s going on outside; hurry, come look!”

   The father made his way over to the window and lightly moved his daughter aside. He filled her spot, gazing onto a peaceful suburbia turned into a field of horrors. Two story houses crumbled into debris and ash as seemingly randomized explosions engulfed cars, land, and human beings. The man retreated from the windows and turned to the frightened girl.

   “I felt the shaking.” she signed to him.

   He ran his hand across his sweating form, trying to collect his thoughts. Why was this happening? Had he not been wishing his beautiful daughter good night not moments ago? Was this the world’s way of telling them that there is no such thing as a good night? Was this his punishment for cradling her as she awoke from nightmare after nightmare and told her that “everything is going to be ok” when he hardly believed it himself? It didn’t matter. He had no time to contemplate any further; he needed to bring his daughter to safety.

   “Put some clothes in your bag.” he signaled.

   She nodded and proceeded to follow her father’s orders. The man bolted from his room and grabbed the bag containing the folders and papers, carelessly dumping it out. He filled it with two full sets of comfortable clothes as well as a jacket for the weather, not that the neighborhood wasn’t warm enough with flames dancing in the streets.

   He opened the top drawer of his dresser and retrieved a sealed black box from within. With the nimbleness of a man fearing for his life, he fumbled with the combination until the box clicked open. Within rested a single nine millimeter pistol, loaded, but with the safety engaged. Inscribed on the inside cover, the words “Property of Felix Dufraisne” could be faintly seen. The gun had been purchased a few years ago from a firing range in the northern part of the city. He was no soldier, but he had enough sense of how to properly clean and maintain his weapon. He had seen the movies where mass catastrophes lead people to do dangerous things to others, and he wasn’t about to let a soul touch his daughter.

   Felix put the pistol in a separate pouch in the bag and threw the entire pack over his shoulder. His daughter rushed in the room and tugged relentlessly at his arm, indicating the urgency of leaving. On the side of her face he could see that she had also made sure to grab her hearing aid. He scooped her up in his arms and made his way down the staircase as quickly as he could. A nearby explosion nearly threw him off his feet and made the child in his arms release a squeal in terror. He regained his foot and quickly ran out of the front door. The miasma of ash and burnt flesh flooded his nostrils in one fell swoop, causing his lungs to seize up and send him into a coughing fit. His daughter buried her face into his shoulder in an attempt to stop herself from doing the same.

   Quickly deciding to head toward the city, Felix took off in a quick run, the smoke from nearby buildings preventing it from being an all out sprint. He stayed away from the burning homes, but didn’t carelessly throw himself out in the street to be hit by a burning car either. He navigated the burning remains of the street, being mindful of the young one in his arms. The extra weight forced him to slow down a couple of times to catch his breath. All around him, the remnants of his community fell to the ground in pieces of the structures that they once were. To his left he caught a glimpse of a house still standing amongst the rubble of its brethren. It wasn’t until the house suddenly erupted into a giant, gaseous ball of fire that he wished he had ran faster. The explosion swept him off his feet, prying the little girl from his arms and sending them both tumbling on the sidewalk, dazed, disoriented, and making his best effort to dodge the falling debris, he attempted to make his way over to his daughter, who was in no better shape than he was. She stumbled back and forth, unable to hold herself up long enough to get her bearings and locate her father.

   “I’m over here sweetheart!”

   She didn’t turn to him, his voice drowned out by her lack of hearing even with the aid due to the ensuing chaos in the streets. He had begun to inch his way over when a large chunk of debris landed between the two, separating them behind a wall of grisly flames. Felix desperately made his way around the fire, trying to locate his daughter through the thick cloud of smoke.

   “Maxine! Max, where are you sweetheart?” he choked out. He could feel the heat dance around him, threatening to set him ablaze at any given moment. He crawled around relentlessly across the lawn, pawing at the ground for any sign of Maxine. With each breath he could feel the poisonous chemicals slowing pulling out the life from within his lungs. His eyes began to tear up, trying to rid themselves of the deathly fog and restore his sight once more. Even the taste of the disintegration of the world around him lingered in the back of his throat, reminding him that had no control over wretched filth and death that had begun to collect in the streets.

   He clenched the grass in his fists and hoisted himself up to his knees continuing his search. Through the thick, accumulating haze that had begun to tie its noose around Felix’s neck, he spotted a small figure lying down in the grass. Mustering up whatever strength he could, he slowly began to drag himself over to the form. Around him he could still hear pieces of the house collapsing on the ground, sending hazardous chucks of wood and wall crashing in a fury of red rain. Looking up, he could see one of the artificial fireballs streaking its way through the smoke, its designated land spot being where Felix currently knelt. In one last desperate act, he lunged himself at Maxine. He clasped onto his daughter’s jacket, clinging toward what he believed be his only salvation as the fiery wreckage consumed the two forms.