The Vanishings

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  “Ryan,” his mother’s recorded voice said, “I’m stuck in some unbelievable traffic here, and I don’t know if I can get to O’Hare or back home. I’ll just keep trying. When you get this message, call me on my car phone. You know the number. I can’t get through to O’Hare by phone either, and the first time I tried to call you all the circuits were busy. So if it doesn’t work, keep trying. And remember, don’t worry. I’ll find Dad and we’ll get home as soon as we can.”

  His mother had sounded worried herself. How could he not worry? Ryan still couldn’t bring in any TV stations, so he turned on the radio and hooked up his video games. He was immersed in his favorite game when he realized what was happening. It was like a scary science-fiction movie, the kind he had not been allowed to watch until he turned twelve and which still scared him if he was honest with himself.

  Something had happened. Millions of people all over the world had disappeared at the same time. They left everything behind but flesh and bone. Driverless cars, trucks, and buses had crashed, ships ran aground, planes crashed. Wherever someone was in charge of something important and they disappeared, something terrible went wrong.

  Ryan yanked his video game controller out of the TV and began searching for any good channel. Finally every channel was suddenly crystal clear, and the newsmen even talked about that. They said that service providers were finding that power, water, and communications were sometimes good, sometimes bad. “If you must make a phone call, be sure it’s an emergency and get off quickly to keep lines open as much as possible.”

  Now Ryan was scared. What if his dad had been on a plane where the pilot disappeared? This had happened just before eleven, when he had first heard the sirens! The news reports told of fires throughout the suburbs and the city of Chicago. In fact, there were fires all over the world where people had put something on the stove, then disappeared and never came back to turn it off. Ryan imagined his mother trying to drive through impossibly blocked neighborhoods. He saw a helicopter view of the expressways, which were like huge parking lots. The only luck some people had was when they were able to get off the highways and try the side streets.

  Ryan knew his mother had expected to be home by now and not leave him there alone to see this. He was fascinated by the reports from around the world, and he sat wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open, as video shots showed people disappearing and their clothes floating to the ground.

  A tape broadcast from Hawaii showed a birthday party where the birthday girl, her two brothers, and her parents vanished as a neighbor videotaped her blowing out her candles. She leaned close to the cake and took a breath, then she disappeared, and her party hat fell into the candles and erupted into flames. The woman doing the videotaping saw only the flames and quickly doused the fire, then realized that she and another couple were the only people still there. Ryan heard her gasping and trying to talk as she taped the scenes of little piles of clothes all around the room.

  When the station replayed the tape in slow motion, Ryan saw what the video camera woman had not seen. Just before the little girl’s hat fell into the candles, the girl had disappeared, and her dress dropped out of the picture.

  A video from a helicopter on the West Coast showed cops pulling over a motorist. As one patrolman approached the driver’s side and the other backed him up at the right rear of the car, the driver and one of his two passengers disappeared, and so did the backup cop! The patrolman assumed the driver and one of his passengers had ducked down in the seat, so he pulled his weapon and warned his partner, who was no longer there.

  The cop put both hands on his revolver and skipped to the back of the car to check on his backup and discovered his cap, shirt, badge, trousers, belt, gun, cuffs, ammunition, and shoes right where he had been standing. The patrolman panicked, screaming at the occupants of the car to come out with their hands up while he scampered behind his own patrol car for cover.

  As he crouched there, one woman in the backseat of the car came out in hysterics, screaming that the driver and the other passenger had disappeared. The cop made her lie face down on the pavement, and he cuffed her before searching the car. He pulled empty clothes from the seats, then released her from the cuffs and comforted her as they tried to make sense of it.

  By the time the cameraman in the chopper realized what had happened, several accidents had occurred on the same stretch of highway. He pulled back and panned wide to see tractor-trailer trucks hung up on guard rails, cars having plunged down ravines, and even the clothes of a utility worker hanging from a ladder that led to the top of a light pole.

  Ryan wished his mother was home, but he didn’t think he could speak even if someone was there to listen. This couldn’t be real! He changed channels and found the same thing on every one. People were urged to stay in their homes as long as they were safe, and to stay tuned for more information. Ryan tried Raymie’s phone again and reached only the answering machine. He did not leave a message. Later, if he dared, he would walk down to the Steele home and see what was going on. He wondered if anyone he knew had disappeared.

  Ryan tried his mother’s car phone. It rang and rang, but no one answered. He didn’t get that usual recording about the cell phone customer having driven outside the service area or already being on the phone, so he knew he was getting through. It wasn’t like his mother to leave the phone in the car if she wasn’t there, and she always left it on when she had it with her. Ryan couldn’t figure it out, and now he was really worried.

  He found a station that listed all the crashes of planes that had been due into O’Hare that morning. His father had been coming in from Asia, which was all he knew. One of the crashed planes was coming from there, but Ryan didn’t know the time or the number or even the airline. He just hoped against hope his father had not been on that plane.

  News helicopters showed scenes from above O’Hare where big jets were parked up and down the runways. People walked from the planes as far as two miles to the terminal, and once there, it was nearly impossible for them to get out of the airport. Traffic gridlocked the road that led into and out of the airport. Ryan watched as thousands of stranded passengers walked through the zigzagged cars and down the overpasses and exits until they found taxis and limousines that would carry them toward their homes, if they could make it through the tangled mess.

  Somewhere out there Ryan’s mother was either trying to get to O’Hare to learn some news about her husband’s flight, or she had already picked him up and was trying to make her way home. From what Ryan could see on the news, he didn’t expect her for a long time. He dialed and redialed her cell phone number, but she never answered. He hoped with all his might it was just part of the communications breakdown caused by so many people disappearing.

  Ryan grew panicky, unable to reach anyone by phone and not having any idea whether his parents were safe. He hated to think his mother might try to call him while he was gone, but he had to get out of there. He had to get to Raymie’s house and see what was going on.

  Ryan tried his mother again, then Raymie’s line. Still just the machine. He hung up and ran from the house, down the block, and to the edge of Raymie’s property. People were outside their homes, talking with neighbors. Many were crying. They watched as he approached the front porch of the Steele home. He didn’t want to appear to be up to anything, so he just sat on the front step as if waiting for his friend, until people seemed to forget about him.

  Ryan was going to ring the bell when he realized the drapes were open, the door was unlocked, and it stood open about an inch. There was no car in the driveway, but someone must have been home. He slipped inside to the bitter smell of burnt coffee. He tiptoed into the kitchen and saw the coffeepot in the sink, still hot.

  Ryan knew someone was home, but who? He opened the door that led to the garage. Only Mr. Steele’s BMW was missing. Mrs. Steele’s car was there, and so was the one Raymie’s sister drove when she was home. Raymie’s four-wheeler was there, of course, and his snowmobile and his
bike. So who was here and who wasn’t? He checked the hall closet where Raymie’s father’s trench coat, flight bag, and cap were stored. Captain Steele was supposed to have been on some long trip to England or somewhere.

  Ryan tiptoed upstairs to the bedrooms, past a bunch of family photos on the walls. Raymie’s door was shut. Ryan knocked lightly. No answer. He pushed the door open. Raymie’s nightclothes were in a neat pile on the bed, and Ryan looked enviously at the picture on the bedside table of Mr. Steele in uniform near his plane.

  As Ryan left Raymie’s room, he held his breath. He heard something coming from the master bedroom suite. What was it? Someone was home!

  From the hall, Ryan could see all the way into the suite. There, lying face down on the bed, his uniform in a pile on the floor beside him, was Raymie’s dad. He appeared to be sleeping, except that his shoulders heaved as if he were crying. Ryan didn’t dare disturb him. He slipped back down the hall, down the stairs, and headed for home.

  Ryan had a sinking feeling as he entered his quiet house. He turned on the TV and saw lists of people who had been on board the flights that crashed on their way to O’Hare. “We repeat,” the announcer said, “it has never been our policy to release names of missing or presumed-dead passengers before next of kin can be notified. However, with such massive tragedies and the impossibility of local law enforcement agencies being able to keep up with the grisly business of informing families, we have been asked to make these names public as tastefully as possible. Remember, if someone you know appears on these lists, it means only that they held reservations on these flights and that their whereabouts are currently unknown.”

  Ryan covered his eyes and peeked through his fingers as the names slowly scrolled by. He recognized one as the father of a friend of his. Another one or two looked familiar, and all he could do was wonder how many friends had lost family members. Then he saw his dad’s name, and he burst into tears.

  He turned off the TV and shook his head. It couldn’t be. He tried to make himself believe that his dad had somehow survived and would be calling him. But that wasn’t going to happen, and he knew it. It would be just he and his mom now. Did she know already? There was no message light blinking on the answering machine. Maybe she wanted to tell him in person. Maybe she didn’t even know yet!

  He dialed her cell phone for what seemed the hundredth time. It rang and rang, and finally someone answered. It was a gruff male voice. “Hello! Who’s this?”

  “This is Ryan Daley, and I thought I was dialing my mother’s cell phone.”

  “Uh, you are, son, if your mother’s full name is, ah, Marjorie Louise Daley.”

  “Yes!”

  “Where are you?”

  “Who is this?”

  “I’m sorry, son. This is Sergeant Flanigan, Des Plaines police.”

  “What happened? Is my mom all right?”

  “I’m afraid she’s not, Ryan. There was a gas-main leak we didn’t know about, and it blew while several cars were in an intersection here. Your mother’s been taken to Lutheran General in Park Ridge. You know where that is?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, it’s—jes’ a minute, son. . . . Yeah, OK. . . . Listen, Ryan, you have friends or relatives there that can look after you for a while?”

  Ryan wanted to blurt that he had just seen his dad’s name on a list of air crash victims, but he didn’t. “Why?”

  “Son, I hate like everything to tell you this over the phone, but your mother didn’t make it. The county morgues are full, so one is being set up at Maine East High School in Park Ridge, not far from the hospital. You’ll want to get someone to get you over here in a day or two for identification, but don’t try to come right away.”

  Ryan couldn’t speak.

  Sergeant Flanigan apologized again. “I’m sorry, son. You’re sure you’ve got someone there to take care of you?”

  But Ryan hung up. Was it possible that the people who had believed in Jesus had been taken to heaven, just like Raymie had tried to tell him? He and his parents and Captain Steele had been left behind, but now both his parents were dead. What was he going to do?

  Ryan had no idea, but he was going to try one thing. Raymie’s church was less than a mile away. Ryan wasn’t in a hurry. He just wanted to walk and think and cry. If anyone was left at that church, Ryan might be able to find some help.

  TEN

  Finding Each Other

  “EVERYTHING all right at your place, Judd?” a neighbor called out as Judd Thompson headed around to the back of the house.

  “Don’t know yet,” Judd hollered.

  In truth, of course, he did know. He knew exactly what he would find in that house. The buzz of the champagne was long gone, and he felt suddenly foolish with his scraggly goatee, his wallet full of cash, and that top-of-the-line credit card. Aren’t I something? He asked himself. Big man. Big criminal. Big shot. Now I’m an orphan. He felt like a child, despite his sixteen years.

  Judd ran upstairs and checked Marcie’s room first. She was the persnickety one, the one who always kept her room just so, dolls lined up in a row, her schoolbooks and the next day’s clothes laid out neatly. Two tiny barrettes lay in the dent in the pillow her dark-haired head had left. Judd pulled back the covers, revealing her nightie.

  In Marc’s room, was which almost as messy as Judd’s own, he found socks and underpants in the bed.

  He glanced at his own room before heading down to the master bedroom. His parents had been in there, that was clear. They had gone through his stuff, looking for clues to where he might be. Maybe they had called the library to check on him. Somehow, they had figured it out, but he had left no clues in his bedroom. Fooling them, tricking them, putting one over on them had seemed so cool when he was on his way to O’Hare. Now he felt like an idiot.

  Judd had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he descended the stairs. He wanted his little brother and sister and his parents to be with Jesus, of course. That was what they wanted, what they talked about, what they looked forward to. But he didn’t want to be alone, either.

  He slipped into his parents’ bedroom, where the curtains were closed and it was dark. He didn’t turn the light on, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the darkness. Judd shut the door and leaned back against it, feeling weak. He hadn’t slept much on the plane, and now he was paying for the nervous energy that had kept him awake.

  Judd was stunned to see that his parents’ bed was still made. Could it be? Was it possible they had not been taken? No! It couldn’t be! He whipped the covers back and saw no bedclothes. He looked around the room, now turning on the light. His mother’s robe was draped over a chair. This made no sense. He found his father’s robe in the closet and held out a flicker of hope. But what was he hoping? That his little brother and sister had been taken and his parents had not?

  He ran to the living room, where the truth quickly became clear. The phone receiver was on the floor. From the positions of his parents’ sets of clothes, it was obvious they had changed back into them when they realized they might have to drive somewhere to look for him. His dad’s jeans and pullover shirt and shoes were in a pile near the phone. His mother’s casual outfit lay in a chair where she had been sitting.

  Judd returned the phone to its cradle and scooped up the clothes. He sat with them in his lap and smelled the faint scent of his dad’s cologne and his mother’s perfume. And he cried. They loved him so much, cared for him, worried about him. And look how he had treated them. He held their clothes close to his chest and closed his eyes, realizing he had gotten just what he deserved.

  His mother had told him and told him that Jesus was coming again and that it could happen in Judd’s lifetime. He knew that was what his church taught, but it had seemed so preposterous. Well, not any more. It had happened, and he had been left behind. What was he going to do?

  Judd knew there would be no sleeping, tired as he was. He had to think about how he was going to get the car back from O’Hare. When
would that be possible?

  What he should do, he knew, was go to his church. His church. He hadn’t called New Hope Village Church his own church since he was in elementary school. Who would be left there? Was he the only member who didn’t go to heaven? He felt alone in the world, not just in this house. He decided to call the church, just to see if anyone else was around.

  The voice on the New Hope answering machine was the visitation pastor’s, a man named Bruce Barnes, who had been there for several years. It was clear from the message that he had been left behind too!

  “You have reached New Hope Village Church. We are planning a weekly Bible study, but for the time being we will meet just once each Sunday at 10 A.M. While our entire staff, except me, and most of our congregation are gone, the few of us left are maintaining the building and distributing a videotape our senior pastor prepared for a time such as this. You may come by the church office anytime to pick up a free copy, and we look forward to seeing you Sunday morning.”

  Judd didn’t want to wait. He looked for his mother’s keys and backed her car out of the garage, only to go a couple of blocks and find all the roads blocked. He returned to get his little brother’s bike. He was way past feeling self-conscious. He was on his way to church, and for the first time in as far back as he could remember, he really wanted to get there.

  When Ryan Daley came within view of New Hope Village Church, he didn’t know what to think. He had been in a church a couple of times in his twelve years, but not this one. A big, dark-haired kid on a small bike came pedaling past him. They looked at each other but didn’t speak. Ryan had never seen him before.