The Order of the Sleepwalker

By Zechariah Barrett

Jake is a 16-year old boy from Portland, Oregon, and he just wants a normal life. He's having trouble in school, he's in love with a girl, and then there's this sleep walking problem.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, totally aware but unable to control himself, and enters a mission state. He searches around town, murmuring about a ship lost at sea. It is in this state that he becomes a very special interest in an international conflict.

Jake wanted a normal life. But what he wants now, more than ever, is a sense of control.

~~~

Originally written by the author at 17-years of age, “The Order of the Sleepwalker” is the original story that helped inspire those that came after.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9780359712908

Zechariah Barrett

About the AuthorIn the heart of the midwest, we're surrounded by cornfields, soybean crops, and wheat galore. The prairie is tranquil. Dreamlike.Yet I've always had a great desire to travel the world. The prairie is home, and much of the world can seem so alien in comparison. Being far from the ocean, I was awestruck the first time I took a plane overseas and when I walked along the shores of the Emerald Isles. It was so beautiful and refreshing. I've wanted to see more. I've wanted to see as much of the world as I can.This desire to travel has often been coupled with two of my other greatest desires: to write and to be part of something greater than myself. I love to write, because even when I can't travel, a world can be created with just a pen and some paper.The concept of the Detective Games series, for example, was something that really excited me, because of how diverse it could be. I envisioned detectives all across the globe, traversing exotic locales, and with thrilling cases to be solved.With the desire to be a part of something greater than myself, I'm driven to make a difference in the world through writing, charity, and through the day to day of life. As my writing career expands, I'll be taking an active role in charitable causes and investing in those things which make way for a better tomorrow.It's a privilege to have this community of readers. Thank you.

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The Order of the Sleepwalker

The Order of the Sleepwalker

Zechariah Barrett

Copyright © 2011 Zechariah Barrett

All Rights Reserved

First Edition

ISBN 978-0-359-71290-8

Preface

Welcome to a book that has gone by many names, and taken many turns before completion. It is a story I began at 17 years and finished a year after at age 18. I was excited, having written many stories and published a few short stories, but having no long form fiction yet published.

It is a story that I determined to make perfect. I would research locales and develop unique character names. I would think about what each character would do, what their purpose would be in the story, and how it would all unfold.

As I wrote, I could see the story playing out like a movie, and I wanted it be a similar, fluid experience for my readers.

After completing the story, I gathered together beta readers and re-read the story time and time again as I made revisions big and small. Then, when it was all done, I designed a cover and bound it up in a paperback. I did a small printing for family and friends, and I had separately queried literary agents for widespread publication.

I became discouraged as my query letters and research amounted to nothing of substance. So I moved on. I wrote more stories, and found an audience of readers that enjoyed them. Then I looked back. I began a re-write, and it is still in progress to this day. You may have seen it before alongside my other future books. It’s called Project Ordine.

This is not Project Ordine. The re-write has taken inspiration and general plot points from The Order of the Sleepwalker, but otherwise overhauled this entire book. I decided to release this book under a penname, to avoid confusion. The reception was positive.

Then I had a realization. With both stories being so distinct, and having been such a large part of my writing journey, why not have both under my own name?

Here we are now, my dear reader. I hope you enjoy this early work of mine, that I have at last decided to share. I appreciate that you have taken the time to join me.

Prologue

I woke to the sound of crashing waves tossing our boat back and forth, a crackle of thunder sounding in the distance, and the roar of laughter produced from drunken sailors in the cabin next door.

It was often like this – I would wake suddenly in the early hours of the morning covered in sweat, heart pounding, and muscles tensed with adrenaline. Every sense was alert.

My eyes strained in the darkness, and with inhuman speed adjusted to my surroundings. The kitchen, on the other side of the boat, emanated the distinct smell of bacon and eggs, signaling breakfast would be soon.

A few levels down in the engine room I noted that a bolt had loosed from its position on the generator. It would however, be quickly fixed, considering an engineer’s measured tread made its way down the stairs a moment later. Then, as I reached to pull aside my blankets, my hand brushed against the fur of my dog – I could identify precisely three hundred and sixty seven hairs in that exact spot, and another five hundred even hairs as I pushed my covers off the bed.

I stood up and proceeded a few steps, all the while feeling the ocean’s fluid movements beneath me, and opened the door to my cabin, momentarily blinded by the change in light, to which my eyes adjusted as before. I proceeded to walk, barefoot, down the cold metal corridor. I stopped at the third cabin down, and turned to face the door without any conscious reasoning.

With the same mindless but calculating motion, I pulled open the door and walked inside. A bed, located in the far right corner of the room, next to the bathroom door, sat vacant. I approached the base of it and lay a single hand upon the pillow. It was still warm. I moved briskly out of the room, closed the door, and continued down the hall. I stopped when the sound of footsteps came to my notice – a moment later, a tall, stocky man came into view. My suspicions were oddly aroused from the most unreasonable of observations – he wore a particular brand of European cologne, an obnoxious aroma to be sure. The very air around him seemed tainted, and from this sole dislike for the cologne, I developed an instant enmity toward the man. He looked at me with a perplexed expression, followed by revelation. 

You’re back, he muttered, somehow recognizing me.

Oddly enough, I had never seen him before in my life… or as far as I could remember. Had we met briefly before? No, I would’ve recognized that smell… that pungent odor, it was bound to make an impact on your memory. But then how did he know me? I naturally decided to pose the question I was seeking.

Who are you?

Those three words changed my life. I wish I could’ve forgotten the man’s answer. I should have simply walked away, after all, his very existence seethed something sinister – but that same, seemingly unnatural force that awakened me each night, forced the words out of my mouth.

Chapter I: Burnt Burgers

The bell rang, sounding for the next class. Dreaded English class – with its torture chamber assortment of grammar, spelling, and laborious poetry was at an end, and biology was next! I promptly picked up my backpack, and stood to leave, eager to be out of Mr. Inahka’s domain. Detainment, however, was inevitable.

The teacher called out as I made it to the door, Jake! I must speak with you for a moment.

I let out a quiet sigh of exasperation, beyond the instructor’s earshot, and walked over to his desk, as if to the scaffold. Yes, Mr. Inahka? I asked, with the hesitation that accompanies a scolding.

Mr. Inahka gave me a small smile, for a moment occupied with thoughts of better times. Then his expression changed to seriousness when he pointed to my English essay on Romeo and Juliet. Your analysis was lacking… he began. I’ve spoken with Miss Brown, and it would appear you write tremendously well for biology class essays. So why the lack of focus in English?

I shifted my feet and took a deep breath, as if the action would render my freedom, English isn’t my strong suit. I muttered, as if it were a shy excuse.

Mr. Inahka stood up out of his chair, and waved my essay in the air with irritation. Writing is writing! he said sternly. If you can write essays for biology, you can write a simple analysis paper for English. Think Scientific Method. You present your thesis, prove it, and conclude. 

I conceded with a nod, Yes Mr. Inahka. The teacher tussled my hair, and sat back down. With a few strokes of a pen, in a most singular manner, Mr. Inahka wrote a pass and handed it to me. His signature was as incoherent and varying as ever. Go on then, he said.

• • •

As Jake entered biology class he crumpled his pass and tossed it into the trash, proceeding to his seat. Miss Brown was already aware of his situation, or deficiency as Inahka called it, in English, and never required any explanation when he came in late – among the many reasons why she had become his favorite teacher. 

Class had already begun in its usual manner, with students working on the warmup exercise on the over-head – today it was a prompt regarding the concept of carrying capacity: will the increased deer population in Nebraska and Iowa lead to the allowance of additional hunting? Or will predators such as the coyote, keep the population regulated? Jake fetched his notebook and wrote down a quick answer before Miss Brown turned off the overhead and inquired of the class. As usual, she called upon him to give a response.

Jake paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, then with a brief but methodical glance at his notebook, answered, Predators such as the coyote are in short supply in comparison to the deer population. Because while the deer are further moving into cities and towns where there still remains fields for grazing, predators are already occupied with the hundreds still at home in their habitat. Taking these two factors into account, the midwestern states would be wise to permit an expansion to the current hunting limitations, allowing hunters to decrease the population over a gradual period of time and return the environment to a stable capacity.

This was the only time Jake would speak in such a manner, although if he did so in English, Inahka would be ecstatic. His friend Abrielle looked over at him and rolled her eyes, mouthing the words know-it-all. 

Excellent! replied Miss Brown. A very thorough answer! Now everyone, I believe it’s about time for our chapter test. I’ll give you five minutes to study, then we’ll begin. 

Jake’s eyes widened in realization and panic. He had forgotten to study, yet again. He quickly drew out his study guide packet, which had been creased and fit into his notebook, and memorized each point individually with the efficiency of a photographic memory. By the time Miss Brown passed out the seven page tests after the given period, he was ready. When the tests were graded the next day, Jake received a perfect score.

To make a great class even better, biology was last on scheduling, and when the bell rang, school was dismissed, much to the relief of all. In the usual manner, hallways flooded with the excited chatter of students with plans and parties, and then rapidly emptied as the socialites headed home for Spring Break. Jake grabbed a few books from his locker, and replaced them with his biology textbook – it was the only homework he ever finished early, although he still had a posterboard presentation to do over break. After closing it shut, he twisted the lock dial a few times, before leaving, though never thought it necessary when took the time to think about it. It was treasure trove of knowledge in there, who wouldn’t want a piece of it? 

When he at last stood up and turned to leave, he found himself face to face with Abrielle Lombardi, illustrious daughter of Lucido Lombardi – the richest man in Italy, making her the school’s very own Italian heiress. Despite her European heritage, her skin was fair and her long, flowing hair was of a deep maroon. Her mother was Susan Lombardi, who was born and raised in London until her father decided to ship her off to the States when she was sixteen, after her mother’s death, thinking it was better for her to live with distant relatives who would provide more tender care. Mr. Lombardi met her in High School and it was love at first sight. Though after the birth of their daughter, he wasn’t to be seen so much. Engaged in a job oversees, which always escaped conversation. Abrielle, however, was without the mystery. She was kind, honest, and determined to pursue her dreams. A second bell rang, though Jake mistook it for wedding chimes.

Hey Jake, she said. Ready for Spring break?

Jake smiled and placed his books under his arm. Definitely, Mr. Inahka’s class has been crazy. You’d think he was a an ex-marine, the way he drills his students.  

Oh, he’s not that bad, retorted Abrielle. It’s always been like that with him. I guess it’s his way of caring. 

So why doesn’t he care about anyone else? Jake countered, suddenly defensive. It’s always just me he decides to lecture.

Abrielle sighed. Yeah, I know. But you know about his past… 

Jake shook his head, We all know about it, he said, But he still annoys me sometimes.

By now the school was all but empty, with the exception of a few students serving detentions, seeing teachers, or grabbing things from their lockers, not to mention the overachievers actually organizing their lockers. Let’s get going, Abrielle said at last.

And forget about Mr. Inahka.

As they headed outside, the sun was still burning brightly amidst an almost cloudless sky. Here many kids were still gathered, waiting for rides and socializing before heading home.

As Jake walked towards the bicycle rack, Abrielle called after him. Have a good break!

Same to you! he responded.

On bicycle, the distance home was about 15 minutes, and Jake always spotted the strangest things on the way there… particularly the most unnoticeable.

At a nearby gas station, he heard a man sneeze and bang his head against the pump – he saw the flicker of a flame in someone’s backyard, and heard a faint mechanical clink as a man flipped burgers onto his grill, and by the smell of them, they were a bit overdone. This, however, was hardly the most unpleasant. He could also smell the sewage, deep underground, from the gutters along the street.

The strangest link among all these instances was the distance by which he would notice them, sometimes things even a mile or two away – naturally, human senses would not be able to pick up on these things, yet Jake always found that he could. It was disturbing – he was just your average teenager, with super senses that were partially active in the day, and heightened to their highest extent at night when he was on his nightly excursions. They were however, rare occurrences – the first had been when his mom had caught him sleepwalking outside near the dock, muttering about a lost ship somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. His parents had excused it as having come from watching too many movies, or too much TV – Jake knew, however, that it was only a guise. How could they simply explain away the abnormal senses he experienced, or the sense of mission that enveloped him during that first incident?

It doesn’t matter, he muttered upon approaching the doorstep of his house. It won’t happen again. 

It did however, three nights later.

• • •

Inside, it was time for dinner, and the conversation inevitably turned towards the day’s peculiarities.

Burnt burgers, huh? Well, that’s not too surprising, smells like that travel a ways. Ian Laskaris remarked, between bites of beef and broccoli.

"Dad, I