The Vanishings

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  As the airport came into view, it was obvious no one was going anywhere soon. There were planes as far as the eye could see, some crashed, some burning, the others gridlocked in line. People trudged through the grass toward the terminals. Cranes and wreckers tried to clear a path through the front of the terminal so traffic could move, but that would take hours, if not days.

  The pilot announced that he would have to land the plane two miles from the terminal and that passengers would have to slide down inflatable emergency chutes to get to the ground. All Judd cared about was getting on the ground. He would run all the way to the terminal, where he could call home. He would ask someone how he could get home, and he was willing to pay any amount. He had that credit card and wads of cash in his pocket.

  Half an hour later, when Judd came huffing and puffing past the crowds and into bigger crowds in the terminal, he saw lines a hundred long waiting for the phones. On TVs throughout the terminal he watched news stories from around the world of people disappearing right out of their clothes in front of the camera. A nurse vanished as a woman was about to give birth, and the baby disappeared before it was born. A groom disappeared as he was putting his bride’s ring on her finger. Pallbearers at a funeral disappeared while carrying a casket, which fell and popped open, revealing that the corpse had vanished too.

  Judd raced outside and through the jammed cars, following lines of people to cabs and limousines. He sprinted to the front and stuffed a huge roll of bills into the driver’s hand. Judd told him his address, and the man pulled away.

  It took two hours to pick their way through the results of crashes and fires. The limo driver said, “Some people disappeared with stuff cooking on the stove, and there was no one there to turn it off. That’s why you see so many homes burned or burning.”

  When they finally reached Judd’s street in Mount Prospect, the driver stopped and said, “There you go, son. Sure hope you find what you’re expecting.”

  “I hope I don’t,” Judd said.

  SEVEN

  Vicki’s Sad Awakening

  DAWN came way too soon for Vicki Byrne. The morning sun poured through the slatted window at the back of the house trailer where she shared a tiny bedroom with her little sister.

  Vicki lay on her stomach and felt as if she hadn’t moved since shortly after she had collapsed into bed. The buzz from the marijuana was long gone, but she still tasted the stale tobacco from the cigarettes and was hung over from several too many beers. She wondered how soon her mother would come to get her up. Vicki had purposely not set her alarm. Her mother usually roused her just before she left for work and just in time for Vicki to dress, eat, and make the school bus.

  That usually happened shortly after Vicki smelled breakfast, or at least coffee coming from the kitchen situated just this side of the living room. This morning she smelled something metallic, but not food. She heard nothing. Was it still too early? Usually after a night like she’d had, her mother would have to shake her to wake her.

  She felt as if she could sleep a few more hours. What time was it, anyway? Vicki lifted the covers and rolled to her back. Jeanni was already up. Why couldn’t she hear her? Vicki sat up and stretched, rubbing her eyes. Strange. Jeanni’s school clothes were still set neatly on her chair. She must be in the bathroom, Vicki decided. She lay back down and waited for her mother.

  Half an hour later, Vicki awoke quickly and looked at the clock for the first time. What was this? Had her parents given up on her altogether? They both had to be gone to work by now. Had Jeanni gone off to school in her play clothes?

  Vicki dragged herself out of bed. She didn’t know what it felt like to be an old woman, but it couldn’t be much different from this. She was stiff, and her whole body ached. She padded down the hall to the bathroom, realizing she was the only one in the trailer. On her way back to the bedroom she suddenly stopped. Something was wrong. She backed up two steps and looked out the window to the asphalt apron.

  Vicki squinted and shook her head. What in the world? Her dad’s pickup and her mom’s little rattletrap of a car were still there! Occasionally one of them would drive the other to work if one of the vehicles wasn’t running. And once in a while one of them might get a ride to work with someone else. But both of them? On the same day? Vicki stood staring out the window, trying to make it compute.

  Finally, she was convinced, she had figured it out. She hadn’t heard anything because she had slept too deeply. Her sister probably dressed for a field trip. And for some reason, something was wrong with both cars on the same day. No big deal. Her mother had not tried to awaken her because she was mad at her. Mom had probably fallen asleep in the living room waiting for her to get home, knew Vicki was late but somehow missed her sneaking in. Just for that, Mom wouldn’t get her up in time for school.

  So what? Vicki thought. I can blame it on Mom for not getting me up, and I can get more sleep.

  Then she smelled it. Something acrid. Something burning. And it was in the trailer! She hurried into the kitchen, where the teapot was smoking on the stove. The ceramic paint was black, the pot misshapen and clearly dry. Vicki’s mother often liked tea late at night, but it wasn’t like her to leave the pot on the stove until the water had evaporated away.

  Vicki grabbed a pot holder before reaching for the handle, which had nearly melted. Even through the thick cloth the pot was searing hot. She dropped it in the sink, where it hissed in the water. What was water doing in the sink? Her mother never let dishes soak. She drew water only when she was ready to do all the dishes, and she always did them all and emptied the sink.

  Vicki turned off the burner and looked around. Her mother had not even gotten out her teacup yet. She had never known Mom to forget water she had put on to boil, and certainly not overnight. What was going on?

  Something out the window caught Vicki’s eye. It was one of her friends, an older girl, wandering between trailers. Vicki swung open the door. “Shelly! Shelly, what’s up?”

  But Shelly didn’t even turn. She just kept walking, as if in a trance. Still in her pajamas, Vicki stepped outside and yelled at her friend. Still she didn’t turn. Vicki darted back in and threw on a top, shorts, and slip-on shoes. She trotted down the road until she was right behind Shelly. “Hey, girl!” she said. “What’s the matter with you?”

  Shelly turned and faced her, pale and trembling. “Shel, what happened? Are you all right?”

  “Haven’t you heard?” Shelly said, looking at Vicki as if she were a stranger.

  “Heard what? What’s going on?”

  “People are missing,” she said. “Disappeared. Vanished. Right out of their clothes. Watch the news. It’s all over the world. Three trailers here burned to the ground. Lots of people lost family. Mrs. Johnson vanished late last night drivin’ her husband home from the bus stop. He couldn’t grab the wheel in time, and the car hit a tree. He’s hurt real bad.”

  “Shelly, are you high? drunk? walking in your sleep? What?”

  Shelly turned and walked away. Vicki called after her, but Shelly didn’t respond. Vicki looked down the road to the cluster of trailers at the end of her area. People milled about, talking. Were all these people off work? She stepped off the road as a fire truck left the area. Could Shelly be right?

  Vicki hurried back to her trailer and stood on the top step to survey the area. She saw two trailers that were now just charred remains, one with smoke still rising. People held each other, crying. She didn’t want to go back inside, afraid of what she might find. But she had to.

  She pulled the door closed behind her as she stepped back into the living room. Where was the remote? Her mother didn’t like late-night TV. She would have stayed up reading. For the first time, Vicki looked at the chair where her mother would have been waiting for her the night before. Her mother’s slippers were on the floor in front of the chair. Curlers and hairpins were strewn about, as if they had been dropped. Her mother’s flannel nightie and thin robe were draped over the chair. Her Bib
le appeared to have fallen, hit the chair, and flipped over, landing page-side down on the floor, forming a little black tent.

  What was that in the middle of the chair, atop her nightclothes? Vicki slowly moved closer. It was her mother’s dental plate, the metal bridge with a porcelain tooth she was so self-conscious about. She never took it out in front of anybody, thinking it made her look old to have bridgework in her mouth from a childhood bike accident.

  Vicki could barely breathe. Hands shaking, her whole body shuddered as she turned on the television. “. . . these grisly scenes from around the world,” the announcer was saying, “evidence of the mass disappearances that occurred in every country at approximately midnight, Eastern Standard Time. . . .”

  She was light-headed, and her stomach churned. This had to be a dream. She felt her way to a chair, unable to take her eyes from the screen. She pinched her arm and winced. No dream. “Here again,” the newsman said, “is one of the strangest images we have received from this phenomenon no one can explain. This video was shot by the uncle of a soccer player at a missionary boarding school in Indonesia. Watch as the players race down the field. In slow motion now, watch as all but one player disappears. Their uniforms float to the ground as the ball bounds away and the sole remaining player stops and stares in horror. Watch as the cameraman keeps the video rolling and turns from side to side, showing he is one of few adults remaining, the rest having also disappeared right out of their clothes.”

  Vicki heard a throaty moan and realized it was her own. As the TV droned on and bizarre images came from everywhere, she made her way to her parents’ bedroom. Her father’s leather necklace, the one that so embarrassed her, lay on his pillow. The necklace had the initials W. W. J. D. carved into it, which her father proudly told her reminded him that in every situation he was to ask himself, “What Would Jesus Do?”

  An empty drinking glass lay on the bed in a drying circle of water. Dad liked a glass of ice water in bed almost every night. Vicki forced herself to squeeze between the foot of the bed and the wall and moved to her dad’s side of the bed. She pulled the covers back to reveal his T-shirt and boxers, the only things he ever wore to bed.

  Where were her mom and dad? Where could they be? What had happened to everyone? What would she do? Had Jeanni discovered them missing? And if she had, why hadn’t she awakened Vicki? Oh, no! she thought. Not Jeanni too!

  Vicki scrambled over her parents’ bed and headed down the hall to her and Jeanni’s room. A sob rose in her throat, and she felt dizzy. She whipped the covers off Jeanni’s bed and saw Jeanni’s goofy little kangaroo pajamas.

  What was she going to do? Where could she go? She had been so awful to her parents, and now they were gone. Vanished. Would they be back? Why them and not me?

  And suddenly it hit her. Was it possible? Could it be? Had they been right? Had she been as stubborn and stupid as a person could be? Had she seen the dramatic changes in their lives and still not believed any of the God stuff? Had they gone to heaven and left her behind?

  Vicki moved to the phone and speed dialed her brother in Michigan. “I’m sorry,” she heard, “all circuits are busy now. Please try your call again later.”

  Vicki pulled up a chair and hit the redial button a hundred times in a row, crying but trying to keep from becoming hysterical. How close had she come to being burned up in a fire just like the one that had cost her neighbors their trailers? The TV showed picture after picture of huge chain-reaction car crashes, plane crashes, ships running aground. There were reports of suicides, including the only soccer player who had been left on that field in Indonesia. Others had been killed in accidents caused by drivers disappearing.

  Finally, Vicki’s call got through. She nearly lost control when her brother’s phone rang four times and the answering machine picked up. She waited through the message and then pleaded with him, in tears, to answer. “Eddie, are you there? It’s Vicki! Please pick up if you’re there! Please be there! Eddie, please!”

  Someone came on the line. “Vicki?”

  “Eddie?!”

  “No, this is Bub.” Vicki knew the name but had never met Eddie’s roommate.

  “Is Eddie there?”

  “Uh, no. No, he’s not.”

  “Have you seen what’s going on, Bub?”

  “Who hasn’t, kid?”

  “Then you know what I want to know.”

  “Are you sure, Vicki? I could just as easily tell you I have no idea where he is, just that he’s not here.”

  Vicki sobbed. “But that isn’t true, is it? You found his clothes or something, didn’t you? He disappeared along with all those other people, didn’t he?”

  “You’d better let me talk to your mom or dad.”

  “Bub! They’re not here! They’re gone, right out of their clothes. My little sister too! Now tell me about Eddie!”

  “OK, listen, honey, I didn’t see this myself, all right? This is all secondhand, but Eddie was working second shift last night, three in the afternoon to eleven. I was off and we were going to meet at an all-night diner at midnight. I waited for him for about twenty minutes, and I never knew him to be late for a meal. I called the plant, and they said he had left there at about eleven-thirty.”

  “Wait,” Vicki said, “what time is it there now?”

  “We’re on Eastern Time, sweetie. An hour ahead of you.”

  “Oh. And please quit calling me little girl names. I’m fourteen!”

  “Sorry, Vicki. The picture Eddie showed me must have been when you were little.”

  “He showed you a picture of me?”

  “He bragged on you all the time. So, anyway, a guy comes in the diner who knows us, and he asks me am I waiting for Eddie. I say yeah, and he says Eddie was in a wreck a couple miles up the road. I ask him is Eddie all right, and he says they couldn’t find him. All his clothes and stuff were in the car, but he was gone.”

  Vicki was crying.

  “The guy tells the diner guy to get the TV on, that people have disappeared all over the world. The waitress runs to a booth in the back and screams. She says, ‘I thought those guys had sneaked out on their bill! Their suits are all still here!’ She about fainted. Anyway, we all watched TV for a while, then I came home. You know where all these people are, don’t you?”

  “I think I do, Bub. Do you?”

  “Eddie talked about it all the time. He told me about your mom and dad getting religion—‘saved’ he called it. He starts going to church, and he gets saved. Dragged me along a couple of times, but it wasn’t my thing, you know. You think that could be it? They’re all in heaven?”

  “I don’t know what else to think,” Vicki managed. “What else could it be?”

  “You gonna be all right?”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “You want me to come down there and look after you? Far as I know I didn’t lose any family but maybe a couple of other friends.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Bub. I usually ride the school bus with a black girl who knows all about this stuff. I’m going to try to find her. I hope she’s still around.”

  “Good luck,” Bub said. “This is really wacky, you know?”

  That seemed to Vicki a pretty mild thing to say about the craziest thing that ever could have happened in history. She hung up and turned all the way around. From where she stood she could see her mother’s bedclothes in the chair, her father’s T-shirt in the bed, and the door to her and Jeanni’s bedroom down the hall.

  Vicki didn’t know what to think. Part of her was glad her family was right. She wouldn’t wish her own feelings on anyone, especially on people she loved. Loved. Yes, she realized, she loved them. Each of them. All of them. She only hoped they were in heaven. It wasn’t like they were dead.

  But they might as well have been. She had become an orphan overnight. And all of a sudden all those so-called friends of hers, the waste-oids who hid from their feelings and their problems behind a buzz of booze and pot, didn’t i
nterest her in the least. The girl she wanted to find was the one she often sat with on the bus, the one who had tried to explain to her what had happened to Vicki’s parents when they “got saved.”

  Vicki looked in the phone book under Washington. There were dozens of them, and she didn’t know Clarice’s father’s name. She dialed every Washington whose name began with an A or a B and about half of them whose names began with a C, but none knew a Clarice Washington. Then she remembered that Clarice had said her mother worked at Global Weekly magazine.

  Vicki looked up that number and dialed. She was told that Mrs. Washington was not in yet and that no, they could not give out her home number. “Is it an emergency, young lady?”

  “It sort of is,” Vicki said. “I’m a friend of her daughter Clarice, and I need to talk to her.”

  The woman at the magazine told Vicki she would call the Washington home and pass on her message. “I’m sure she’ll call you,” the woman said.

  EIGHT

  Lionel and Uncle André

  THERE was no clock in the basement of the Washington home where Lionel and his uncle slept soundly. Lionel never had to worry about getting up on time. His father made some racket before he pulled out at six every morning. Then Lionel’s mother made sure everybody was up and in the process of getting ready for school by the time she left at seven. “I don’t know what you kids are going to do when you’re out on your own,” she often said. “I’m creating monsters who don’t move till they’re told.”

  It seemed too bright, too late when Lionel awoke. He had always been a slow riser, in a cloud until he got up and moved around, went to the bathroom, got breakfast. This morning he didn’t feel like moving. He merely opened his eyes, squinted at the sun rays that had somehow found their way through the tiny basement windows, and watched the dust dance in the columns of light.

  Lionel was on his back, staring at the floorboards, wiring, and ductwork in the basement ceiling. This was a scary place in the dark of night. He never slept here alone.