The Vanishing (The End of Time Chronicles Book 1)

by Heath Jannusch

  “Gone, gone, they’re all gone,” she cried, shaking her head. “They vanished, just like everyone else.”

  “What do you mean they vanished?” pressed Mason.

  “They were playing in the yard when the light came and took them away,” said the old woman. “I think the aliens have them. They took my dear husband too, Elroy. Do you know when they’re coming back?”

  “No ma’am, I don’t know anything about any aliens or your husband. I need to find my wife and my children.”

  “Your wife was not taken,” whimpered the old lady. “Like me, she was left behind. I remember hearing her cry herself to sleep for the first few nights, after they were taken.”

  “Then what happened?” encouraged Mason.

  “She left, with a group of others.”

  “She left? Do you know where she went?”

  “No, she’s gone,” the old lady stared off out the window, “they’re all gone.”

  Mason set the shotgun down next to the old woman and glanced up at Cleo. “Let’s go,” he said, standing up.

  They walked back to the Hummer in silence, where Mason immediately began rummaging through his equipment. After a moment, he found the tracking device he was looking for. Mason powered it on and then entered a ten digit code into the key pad. Within seconds, three green bleeps appeared on the screen, two of them were nearby and next to each other, while the third was far off to the north.

  “What’s that?” asked Cleo, watching over his shoulder.

  “A tracking device,” he answered. “I inserted GPS location chips into both of my children when they were born.”

  “I can’t believe your wife would allow you to do that,” exclaimed Cleo.

  “She didn’t,” replied Mason. “She doesn’t know about it. I inserted the children’s immediately after their birth, while my wife was resting. And I put the one in my wife during a dentist visit, when she was having one of her teeth pulled.”

  “Why would you do that?” asked Cleo.

  “So that I could find them if they were ever kidnapped,” explained Mason, as he narrowed the search. “Wait a minute!” He turned and ran toward the backyard, with the tracking device in hand.

  “What is it?” called Cleo.

  “According to this, my children are in the backyard,” he yelled back.

  Cleo closed the door to the Hummer and then quickly followed after Mason. She found him in the backyard on his knees, covering his face and shaking his head. Next to him in the grass were two sets of children’s clothing. When Mason realized Cleo was getting closer, he picked something up and motioned for her to come and take a look. As Cleo drew closer, she saw that he was holding two tracking chips.

  “I don’t understand,” said Mason, shaking his head. “How could these be here, and if they are here, where are my kids?”

  “Maybe your wife found out about the chips and had them removed?” Suggested Cleo.

  “Why would she leave them here in the backyard, under the kid’s clothes?”

  “I don’t know,” answered Cleo. “To be honest, the crumpled up clothes remind me a lot of what we saw in Switzerland.”

  Mason stood up dazed and walked back to the Hummer, with Cleo at his side. He disconnected the signal coming from the two chips he’d just found, leaving only his wife’s remaining. After finding her exact location, he turned to Cleo and said, “Let’s go.”

  “Where to?” asked Cleo.

  “Northern Nevada,” answered Mason. “My wife’s sister lives there in a small town, with her husband and children. It looks like that’s where she went.”

  “Alright, but I insist that I drive, you’re exhausted and ya bloody well know it.”

  “Fine,” Mason relented, tossing Cleo the car keys, as he climbed into the passenger seat.

  *******

  “They’re getting ready to leave,” reported Bruno into the radio. “Should I take the shot?”

  “No!” replied Snake Eyes, growing irritated. “I told you I need them alive, they’re no good to me dead. I need to find how much they know and who they’ve told.”

  “They’re going to get away,” complained Bruno, he hadn’t spent days in this squalor for nothing.

  “No they won’t,” said Snake Eyes, “my agents and I have just arrived on the scene. We’re setting up roadblocks on either end of the street so they can’t get by.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Just make sure they don’t escape. That’s what I’m paying you for!”

  “Fine,” replied Bruno, looking through the living room window. He’d be just as happy to kill Snake Eyes as he would to kill the two agents across the street. “They’re on the move,” he reported. “Get ready, they’re coming straight to you!”

  Cleo steered the Hummer back and forth, weaving in and out of abandoned vehicles, as they left the Mason residence behind. “What the hell is that?” she asked, when she saw two black SUV’s blocking the road ahead. “Those weren’t there before!”

  “It’s a trap!” shouted Mason, as he reached for his gun. “Step on it!”

  “Now!” shouted Snake Eyes over the radio. All of a sudden the neighborhood erupted into a hail of gunfire, as Snake Eyes and his agents opened up with machine guns from behind their SUV’s.

  Cleo slammed her foot down on the gas pedal and swerved to the right, as bullets speckled the side of the Hummer. She drove up, over the curb and across a neighbor’s front lawn, never letting off the gas as they crashed through a tall, wooden fence. Cleo then spun the wheel to the left and smashed through another fence, into the backyard of yet another neighbor.

  “My neighbors are gonna kill me!” shouted Mason, over the sound of splintering wood.

  “Not if these guys catch us first!” replied Cleo, narrowly avoiding a swimming pool.

  Mason glanced in the side mirror, and could see the black SUV’s pouring through the fence behind them. He quickly reached into the back and lifted the seat up, revealing a hidden storage space below. He withdrew a bazooka and quickly loaded a shell.

  “Wow!” exclaimed Cleo. “You really are a man who’s prepared!”

  “Try and keep it steady!” instructed Mason, as he slid open the sunroof and hoisted the bazooka through the opening. He took careful aim at the first SUV behind them, and then fired. The rocket smashed into the front of the SUV and exploded, sending the vehicle high into the air.

  “Nice shot!” cheered Cleo.

  The second SUV immediately swerved to avoid crashing into the one that Mason had just blown up. As it did, one of the tires went over the edge of the swimming pool, causing the driver to lose control. The SUV rolled into the water, landing upside down at the bottom of the pool.

  “Not bad,” said Mason, lowering the bazooka back into the Hummer, “two for the price of one.”

  “Ya got anymore shells?” asked Cleo, bursting through another fence, and back out onto the street.

  “Just two more,” replied Mason, reaching into the hidden compartment for another shell.

  “Good, because we’re gonna need it!”

  Mason looked out the back window and saw three more SUV’s in hot pursuit. He quickly loaded another shell into the bazooka and stood up through the sunroof. He took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. As he fired, a silver pickup truck smashed into the side of the Hummer, sending his shot wild. The shell entered a nearby house, causing an explosion. Mason hoped there was no one home.

  “What was that?” he asked, sliding back down through the sunroof.

  “We’ve got company!” explained Cleo, nodding toward the silver truck beside them.

  The driver of the truck smashed into the Hummer again and again, as they left the residential area behind. Mason opened up with his gun, but his bullets just bounced off the truck, it was armored. “Damn it!” he shouted, reaching in the backseat for the last bazooka shell.

  “Don’t miss this time!” shouted Cleo, smashing into the silver truck.

  “Then hold
it steady this time!” countered Mason.

  “Hold on!” shouted Cleo, as she steered the Hummer down a steep embankment and onto the interstate below. It was so bumpy that Mason almost lost his iron grip on the bazooka.

  The silver truck had followed down the hill right alongside them and the three SUV’s were not far behind. Mason glanced forward and saw an overpass up ahead, he had an idea. As Cleo hurtled toward the bridge, Mason took careful aim. The silver truck was right beside them as they soared under the bridge. Mason fired.

  The shell from the bazooka smashed into the center supporting beam, which held the bridge in place. The concrete began to crumble as the bridge collapsed, on top of the three SUV’s.

  “Beautiful!” exclaimed Cleo, from within the Hummer. “One to go!” she said, swerving toward the silver truck and smashing into the side of it.

  For just an instant Mason saw the terrified face of the man driving. For a fleeting second, he thought that he recognized him but he couldn’t be sure. “Get close to him,” he said, tossing the empty bazooka in the backseat and grabbing several grenades.

  “What are ya gonna do?”

  “His truck is bullet proof, but I doubt its grenade proof,” answered Mason, climbing up through the sunroof once again. He pulled the pins from each of the grenades, and counted to five, before tossing them into the bed of the truck. “Hit the brakes!” he shouted, as he lowered himself back into the Hummer.

  Cleo immediately did as instructed, and slammed her foot down hard on the break. The Hummer came screeching to a stop just as the grenades exploded, sending the front of the truck high into the air. The truck flipped over, landing on its top before rolling several times, eventually coming to a stop.

  “Finally,” sighed Mason, tossing the grenade pins out the window. “I thought they’d never give up.”

  “Um, Mason?”

  “What is it?” he asked, glancing at Cleo. She was staring straight ahead, so he followed her gaze. Facing them up ahead were two more black SUV’s. “Persistent little bastards aren’t they,” he replied, as he climbed out of the Hummer and walked toward the back.

  “Where are you going?” asked Cleo.

  Mason didn’t respond he didn’t need to; when he climbed back into his seat he was holding a .50 caliber machine gun, cradled in his arms. The two SUV’s had started to slowly drive toward them.

  “What do you want me to do?” asked Cleo, looking at the approaching SUV’s.

  “Drive straight for them,” instructed Mason, as he took aim through the open sunroof once more.

  “Ya want me to play chicken with them? But what if they don’t turn?”

  “Don’t worry, they’ll turn,” replied Mason, a cold and determined look in his eyes.

  Cleo pressed down on the gas and the Hummer began to pick up speed, and so did the two SUV’s. The vehicles were hurtling toward each other at ninety miles an hour, before Mason opened up with the .50 cal. The gun was so loud, that Cleo almost let go of the steering wheel to protect her ears from its thunderous roar. It turned the two oncoming SUV’s into Swiss cheese, before the agents onboard even had a chance to get off a shot.

  As Cleo drove past the remnants of the two SUV’s Mason lowered himself back into the Hummer and placed the .50 caliber machine gun onto the backseat. He kept it close not knowing if he might need it again. He was exhausted, and they had over a thousand miles to go. Mason was hoping that he’d be able to sleep through most of it, as he quickly dozed off.

  “Dude, where’s my bag?”

  The Vanishing – Day 7

  Salina, Utah

  Lex and Kassie had left behind the great plains of the Midwest and the Rocky Mountains, and were now passing through Fish Lake National Forest. They were just outside the town of Salina, when Lex heard gun shots coming from off the highway. He took the next right and brought the dune buggy to a stop behind a thicket of bushes and trees, in an attempt to conceal it from the road.

  Lex then checked the 9mm Berretta and the .357 Magnum, to ensure that they were loaded and ready for action, before tucking them into his belt. He also grabbed a rifle and a shotgun. The shotgun had a sling, so he slung it over his shoulder and carried the lever-action Winchester in his hands.

  Lex was about to set off in the direction of the shots, when he remembered the black briefcase sitting on the passenger seat. He turned around, grabbed the briefcase and after a moment of searching, found a nearby clump of bushes. Crouching down, Lex dug a hole with his knife and then buried the case. If the dune buggy was found, he didn’t want the bag to be lost as well. Too many people had already died over it and he knew it was too important to lose.

  “Alright girl,” he said, looking at Kassie, “you ready?”

  She barked her answer and jumped down from her seat in the buggy. Lex bent down and took hold of Kassie’s snout. He placed his finger to his lips and whispered, “Quiet girl, no more barking. We need to be as silent as possible.”

  Whether she understood or not, Lex had no idea, but she did trot along in silence the rest of the way. After a few minutes, the shooting started up again and he knew he was getting closer. Lex instinctively crouched as the shots rang out, echoing against the mountainside. As he drew closer, he could hear the sounds of at least two voices, followed by drunken laughter. They were off to the right of him. Slowly and meticulously Lex moved in closer, with the rifle held ready in his hands.

  He saw movement up ahead and froze where he was. Looking down at Kassie, Lex signaled for her to stay where she was and she immediately sat down. He didn’t want the dog making any noise. He then lay down on his belly and began snaking his way forward slowly, so that he wouldn’t be seen or heard. The voices were coming from behind a thick cluster of bushes.

  When he was close enough to see the men, Lex climbed into a squatting position, peering through the heavy brush. About ten feet away there were two men, both armed with rifles and both wearing red sashes on their arms. They were laughing and toasting one another with beer bottles, as they took turns firing at a target that was just out of Lex’s line of vision.

  “I’m out,” bellowed one of the men. He was the taller of the two and skinny, with dark brown hair. He gulped down the remainder of his beer and tossed the empty bottle toward his companion, who tried in vain to catch it, but stumbled and fell to the ground instead. “Go set up some more targets George. I need to reload,” he instructed his friend, now sitting on the ground.

  “Oh-key-doe-key Kyle,” said George, as he attempted to stand, only to lose his balance and fall back to the ground. On his second attempt, he managed to remain standing. He stood there swaying for a moment, trying to regain his balance, before gathering up all of the empty bottles and finally stumbling off in the direction that the men had been shooting. George was much shorter than Kyle, but had a more stocky build. He too had brown hair, but wore his longer than Kyle’s.

  Lex, very quietly, drew up close behind Kyle as he fumbled with fresh cartridges, trying to reload his rifle. George was wobbling away in the distance, occasionally dropping a bottle, only to stop and pick it up. Lex could now see what the two men had been shooting at.

  Tied spread eagle to a tree in the distance, was a young man, probably in his mid-twenties. His shaggy brown hair hung down to his shoulders and he hadn’t shaved in several weeks. He was a good looking guy with green eyes and boyish features.

  In spite of the predicament he found himself in, the young man taunted his captors, mocking them for their horrible aim. Lex couldn’t help but smile, as he watched the young man shout insult after insult at the stumbling drunk, who was trying to pick up a fallen bottle, only to drop another one instead. When George finally reached his target he began setting up bottles, using the young man’s outstretched arms as platforms.

  Lex was standing right beside Kyle as he loaded his rifle, before he finally noticed Lex’s shadow on the ground. Kyle sluggishly turned and looked up to see Lex smiling down at him. That was the last thing he saw bef
ore the butt of Lex’s rifle smashed him in the face. The blow sent him to the ground with a thud, where he lay unconscious and bleeding.

  Lex left Kyle there and quickly retreated back into the bushes, where he waited for the other man to return. It took a few minutes for George to finish setting up the bottles and make his way back. He was so drunk that he didn’t even notice his buddy lying motionless on the ground, until he almost tripped over him.

  “Hey Kyle, did ya pass out already,” slurred George, as he nudged his friend with the toe of his boot, but he didn’t move. “What a light weight,” he mumbled, reaching down and grabbing another bottle of beer from the cooler. He hastily twisted off the lid and began to guzzle down the brew. Lex suddenly stepped out from behind the bushes. Forgetting caution, he accidentally stepped on a twig, giving away the advantage of surprise.

  Hearing the snap of the twig, George spun around raising his rifle. Lex immediately took three fast steps forward, as the man fired. The first shot went into the dirt at Lex’s feet and the second one went wild. Before George could fire a third shot, Lex slapped the rifle barrel to the side and swung his own rifle into the man’s stomach. George grunted and bent forward, grabbing hold of his stomach with both hands, dropping his rifle as he did. Lex then punched the man in the side of his head as hard as he could. George’s head snapped back and his body went limp, as he fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

  Lex quickly gathered up the men’s weapons and placed them in a pile near their campfire. He then dragged the men close to a large tree and tied them back-to-back around the tree, with their hands almost touching. Lex whistled and Kassie came running over. “Watch them girl,” he commanded, pointing toward the tied men. The dog barked and then obediently sat down, facing the two unconscious drunks.

  Lex walked over to where the young man was strung up like a human target. As he drew close, the young man looked up and asked, “Who are you? You don’t seem to be drunk, or have a red sash of cowardice wrapped around your arm!”