Walker Tales 1

It was July 18th. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and Tom Walker was sprawled out on his bed, flickering in and out of sleep. Though it was 4:30, Tom had not been able to shake the drowsiness created by a short sleep.
The reason for his short sleep is rather an odd one, and one that cannot be understood unless the reader of this post has also read The Journal by Caleb Anjema. Tom Walker had been meeting with his friends. Why had he been meeting with his friends so late at night? It was because they very rarely got to see each other. After the mannequin invasion and the conspiracy to blot the invasion out of people’s minds, it seemed very odd for Tom and his sister Beth, a handful of police officers, Mr. Smofer, and old woman, her granddaughter, and an old man by the name of Liam Wilde who had shown up on the first of their meetings for no explainable reason.
The only real reason that this rather odd group gathered together was because they were the only people left in greater Winnipeg who knew what had happened. They knew that the sky had shattered and the rain had poured on the fateful night. They knew that Tom had struck down Ferdinand Reisch with cranial power. They knew that the streets had been strewn with the corpses of mannequins and toys. And they knew that their city had fallen, and they had helped raise it up.
They were alone in this knowledge, and that is why they met. It wasn’t so much that they spent all of their meetings talking about what had happened in the city. They were all only new acquaintances, and they wanted to get to know each other. Really the only reason that they wanted to be together was because of the shock still fresh in their minds, and the events that had burned into their hearts. These wounds were recent, and they made their way into nearly every conversation.
At the moment, though, Tom wasn’t thinking about his past. He was thinking about nothing, for he was asleep.