Heather stood with her feet together, shivered, and squinted up at the shimmering mist as it touched her face. She clutched her purse to keep warm and ran her eyes up a parking lot light pole and enjoyed the golden sparkler halo around it. “Hurry, honey,” she shouted over the car’s roof. She glanced at her husband and began to tap her feet. “The others are coming out now. It’ll soon be a traffic jam. Besides,” she chuckled, “this mist is graduating into rain. It’s getting cold again.”
“I’m hurrying,” Oscar replied.
She turned as a running figure stopped at the rear of their car. “Here,” he said. “Catch. You’re a sleeper. But are you a patriot?”
She didn’t recognize the man’s voice, couldn’t identify him, and watched a small package hit her raincoat and fall to the concrete. She gasped, then stooped to pick it up and felt her heart race as she heard the lock on her door pop up. She climbed into the car and read the label on the package. “Hm. It’s addressed to: Sleeper # Ten. The printing is very neat but there’s no other message.”
“What was that all about?” her husband asked, slamming his door. She examined both sides of the package.
“I don’t know, Oscar. It might be a bomb, but I don’t think it is. Maybe a promotional gimmick.” She tapped the package against her cheek. “No. That’s not it, either.” The engine hummed and the windshield wipers squeaked.
“What’s in the package, Heath?”
“Hold on fella, I’ll I open it,” she teased as he drove out of the parking lot.
“It’s tied with string. Rough on the hands,” she said, as she tossed the paper aside and looked at the container. “Honey, it’s an audio cassette.”
“Oh great. First the convention criticizes my paper detailing state-of-the-art cloning, even colleagues desert me, and now someone is trying to sell us something on a cassette.” He turned left and drove toward the freeway. “What kind of music is it? What’s on the label?”
“It reads: Sleeper Ten from James Norstrom. Where have I heard the name ’Norstrom’ before?”
“I’ll be on the freeway in a few minutes,” Oscar said. “If the music’s good, it will take my mind off the lousy reception my paper got and relax us ”
“Some of their technical commentary was indeed unnecessary, but I thought certain that Jack Travis would support you. After all, he did perform a little research with you on some ”
“Travis is a wimp among other expletives I could employ,” he said. He turned onto the ramp and sped up. They laughed as Oscar pressed the pedal to the floor and maneuvered the car into light freeway traffic going north and home. Lightning cracked, sounding the rapid spread of white and gray light shadows over the foothills. “The rain’s gonna get worse.”
She inserted the cassette, adjusted the volume and they listened to static.
“No wonder they threw it away. The noise is ”
Suddenly, they heard a man’s voice. “I’m James Norstrom. I work for the CIA, and I’m a patriot. I hope you are, too. Our country’s in trouble. I’ve worked on this project for over two years ...” “Turn it up honey. Isn’t Norstrom the guy who disappeared or was found dead or something in ”
“That’s where I’ve heard his name. The guy’s dead. He was a liaison or something between the White House and the Justice Department ”
“Sounds like he was actually undercover for the CIA. What is this? What’s he saying. Rewind the tape a little, Heath.”

End of the Excerpt from Sleeper One

  Short Story Order Form