by Len du Randt
‘Samantha?’ a woman shouted frantically as she limped past Trevor. She held her bleeding arm, but was more concerned with finding her ‘Samantha’ than for her own safety. Her face was caked in blood and dirt, and she was crying and shouting at the same time, a sense of desperation and terrible loss breaking through her voice. ‘Samantha, where are you?’
‘Can I help?’ Trevor asked, his voice sounding useless in his own ears.
‘Have you seen my daughter?’ she asked as tears flowed down her dirty cheeks.
‘I...I haven’t...’
She began to weep and walked on, shouting ‘Samantha’ as far as she went.
He directed his attention to a car near him to see if there was anyone that he could help. The car was empty, but locked; the keys still in the ignition. What caused this? Trevor wondered as he looked at the burning cars and limping people all around him. Limbs and other body parts littered the street, and everything was painted with blood. The smoke stung his eyes again and he wiped his soot-covered face with the back of his hand.
He coughed so violently that he thought he was going to cough up blood. He felt dizzy and realized that he had to get away from this scene as quickly as possible. Passing out now would surely mean certain death. Another man walked past, missing an arm.
What’s happening? Trevor wondered as he limped back towards the edge of the road. What the Hell is going on?
.II.
Chaos
‘The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed, and thus clamorous to be led to safety, by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.’
- H.L. Mencken
It was an early morning for Malcolm. He rubbed his hand over his face, hoping that it would make the numbness go away. He had lost a lot of sleep since the blast in Jerusalem almost a month ago.
Timothy and Angie made their way to the school grounds. Close to the main entrance, Angie turned around and waved to her father. Her smile always managed to melt his heart, no matter what mood he was in, or how hectic his day had been. He forced a smile and waved back. It was only a matter of seconds before his two children entered the building.
Malcolm started his motor and shifted the ’98 Volvo into first. As he pulled out of the curb, a brown station wagon clipped the front end of his car, swerved to the left, and came to a crashing halt against a tree. Malcolm unbuckled himself, jumped from his car, and sprinted toward the crashed vehicle.
‘Are you okay?’ Malcolm asked as he leaned over to open the door. It was locked. Malcolm cupped his hands against the window of the car and peered into the window. At first he had to reposition himself to block the sun’s reflection from the glass. He couldn’t see anyone in the car and repositioned himself again for a better look.
‘What on Earth...?’ he asked as he moved to the back window. From his viewpoint there was no one in the car. But surely that would be impossible.
Malcolm stood in bewilderment as others joined him. The car just stood there, empty and hissing.
What’s going on here? Malcolm thought. How can an unmanned car drive down the road by itself? More questions flashed through his mind, but the sound of screaming children drew his attention away from his own immediate thoughts.
He turned towards the school as children piled out, screaming. Something was wrong, and his main concern now was to ensure the safety of his children.
- - -* * *- - -
It was pure adrenaline that kept Trevor from passing out. He managed to pull a man from a mangled vehicle, and by some sheer twist of events ended up saving a woman and her eighteen-year-old son as well. Somewhere in the distance, Trevor heard gunshots. The general screaming and chaos just continued and, in the distance, Trevor heard a massive explosion. The force of the blast almost knocked him off balance. It could have been a fuel truck, but there was no way of knowing for sure.
Trevor was losing consciousness; fast. His head was spinning and his knees felt weak. He thought that if he could only lie down for a while, if he could only rest his head and sleep if off for a while, that maybe he would wake up and find out that it had only been a bad dream. A really bad dream.
Trevor dropped down on his knees, coughing as tears streamed down his cheeks. The screams and moans of the people around him were now only muffled, distant, background sounds. Each heartbeat exploded in his ears and, despite people running past him and screaming; all he could hear was his heavy rasp breathing. What had caused this? Why?
Another explosion not too far behind Trevor flung him forward and he hit his hand hard against a metallic object. Even though no bones were broken, he thought he heard his knuckles crack. It felt as if a million needles pricked his flesh every time he moved his fingers.
Trevor looked dumbstruck at the motorcycle that almost broke his hand. He called out for the owner, but no one was even close to where he was lying.
With what little strength he had left, he managed to push the bike onto its wheels. The keys were still in the ignition and, after kick starting it; he was relieved to find the tank almost three quarters full. Trevor was grateful for all the years of dirt bike racing that he had done as a teen. He pulled back on the throttle and the bike jerked into motion. He almost lost his balance but, with a little weight shifting, the bike regained stability and sped away.
- - -* * *- - -
It didn’t take Malcolm long to find Timothy. The boy was running from the main entrance just as Malcolm hurried up the steps.
‘Dad?’ Timothy called out as he ran towards his father.
‘Timothy!’ Malcolm grabbed his son in his arms. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I don’t know,’ Timothy said, his eyes wide and wild, and his breathing faster than normal. ‘We were all moving to class when some of the kids disappeared.’
‘What?’ Malcolm asked. ‘What do you mean?’
‘They’re gone, Dad. Vanished into thin air.’
A sudden fear gripped Malcolm as he looked towards the main entrance of the school.
‘Angie!’
- - -* * *- - -
Andrew pulled the pillow tighter over his head. He only came home about an hour and a half earlier and had a pounding headache. In fact, his head was still partly spinning; the result of another product launch gone way overboard.
He moaned as an explosion ripped through the city somewhere in the distance. His dream adapted itself, making him believe that the sounds he was hearing were actually part of what he was dreaming at that exact same moment. Another explosion and people screaming in the distance only made him groan. It wasn’t until a helicopter flew right by his window that he actually forced his eyes open.
‘What are you guys doing?’ he asked as he stumbled to the large, full-frame window overlooking the city.
The sun stung his eyes as he opened the curtains and a sharp, stabbing pain shot through his head. He didn’t quite know what hit him, but it felt like a freight train. Andrew blinked a few times to try and focus his eyes and swallowed hard to try and rid his mouth of the dry cork-like taste. Eventually his brain registered the smoke covered scene in front of him.
‘Oh Hell...’ he said.
Another stinging pain shot into his head and he made a mental note not to make any more sudden moves or sounds for the remainder of the day. A sudden explosion a few blocks away made him break that rule as he instinctively jerked back.
He cursed and made his way down the hallway and into the living room with the painstaking precision of a drunken driver walking the white line. It took some time to figure out which button to press, but eventually he found the right one. A few seconds later, a GMN news reporter was yelling through his home entertainment speakers.
‘The scene reeks of death and destruction!’ the reporter shouted out of breath while trying to protect herself from the chaos of running people and flying shrapnel. ‘It’s like a warzone here.’
Andrew picked up his cell phone and tried calling Norman without taking his ey
es off the television. The phone just beeped and only when he checked the screen did he see that there was no reception. He then tried the land line number instead. ‘Pick up the phone, Norm,’ he said as he rubbed his temples, trying to massage the pain away. It didn’t really help.
Right, he thought as the phone line cut off. No more drinking from now on. He looked at the phone and dialled again. This time the number was engaged. Andrew redialled once again, and it was still engaged.
‘Come on!’ he shouted as he pressed the redial button. This time it rang, but once again, no one answered.
- - -* * *- - -
‘Angie!’ Malcolm shouted as he and Timothy ran through the school hallways. ‘Angela Freedman!’
‘There’s one of her teachers,’ Timothy said and pointed to a young woman that appeared to be frantically searching for something, or someone.
‘Excuse me,’ Malcolm said as they approached the teacher. ‘I am looking for my daughter, Angie Freedman. Have you perhaps seen her?’
The woman stared at Malcolm and then burst out into tears. She pressed her back against the wall and slid down as she sobbed uncontrollably.
Malcolm looked at Timothy who just shrugged.
‘I’m looking for Angela Freedman,’ Malcolm said again. ‘Have you seen her?’
‘She...she’s gone,’ the woman said through her sobs.
‘What do you mean ‘she’s gone’?’ Malcolm asked.
‘She vanished with a few others. Right before my very own eyes.’
‘Vanished?’
‘It’s like I told you, Father,’ Timothy said. ‘Some of the kids just disappeared.’
‘Not Angie,’ Malcolm said and continued his search.
‘The teacher said that Angie was one of the—’
‘Not Angie!’ Malcolm cut him off. He didn’t believe that his daughter could just ‘disappear’ into thin air. He would find her, even if it took him the entire day.
- - -* * *- - -
‘Sir,’ Ryan said as he entered Victor Yoshe’s office. ‘Have you seen the GMN reports about the vanishings?’
‘I have,’ Victor said as he gently stroked his chin. ‘Start the car, Ryan.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Ryan confirmed. ‘Where will we be travelling to?’
‘GMN head office,’ Victor said and directed his attention to the twelve television screens on his office wall.
- - -* * *- - -
The ride to the office turned out to be a tricky one. Along the roads, people were shooting at one another, some were looting stores, and still others had set fire to gas stations.
What’s going on? Trevor wondered as he manoeuvred his bike around bodies and debris. He wondered if the chaos in the streets was linked to the accident on the highway.
A loud crashing sound made him stop the bike and look around. Someone had backed a truck into an ATM cash machine and was scrambling with others to get as much of the cash as possible.
It took an hour and a half to get to work, and when he did, he was surprised at how desolate the building was. He figured that most people were stuck in traffic because of the accident.
‘Hello?’ he shouted as he entered the office. There was nothing but empty cubicles that filled the large open plan office space. ‘Is anyone here?’
No one answered, but Trevor could hear someone weeping softly. He followed the sound until he reached a cubicle where he saw a woman hiding underneath her desk.
‘René?’ Trevor asked softly. ‘Are you okay?’
She flinched when he put out his hand, but after a few seconds slowly reached out to him. When their hands made contact, she broke down into loud sobs.
‘It’s okay,’ he said softly, trying to be comforting. ‘I’m here now. It’s okay.’
‘She...she...’ René couldn’t speak through her sobs.
Trevor just hugged her and patiently waited for her to calm down a bit. Normally she wouldn’t hug a man. But this was different, and the situation called for someone to protect her.
‘She…?’ Trevor asked when he figured that she was finally calm enough to speak.
‘Sophia,’ René said.
‘The tea lady? What about her?’
‘She brought me some coffee. I was about to take it from her when...’
She didn’t finish her sentence but, instead broke down and cried again.
‘She vanished?’ Trevor took a wild guess.
René nodded and buried her face in Trevor’s arms.
‘I...I tried to run outside...get some help...but when I got there, it was chaos...everywhere...’
‘It’s okay,’ Trevor said and gently stroked her hair. He thought about the empty cars on the highway and wondered what the extent of the chaos was. Was it limited to their city? Was it South Africa? The entire world, perhaps? ‘Everything is going to be all right,’ he lied. He had no idea whether they were indeed going to be fine or not, but he kept that to himself instead. Trevor held her for a few minutes until he was sure that she was stable. He then sat her down on a chair and knelt down beside her.
‘I tell you what,’ he said. ‘Let me attend to this bruise on my forehead, and then I will make us some coffee with extra sugar for the shock. Is that a deal?’
She nodded, but didn’t let go of his arm.
‘I won’t be long,’ he said. ‘And I won’t disappear.’ Trevor forced a smile. ‘I Promise.’ He squeezed her hand lightly and then made his way to the bathroom.
- - -* * *- - -
Malcolm was broken. After three hours of frantic searching for Angie, he finally admitted defeat.
‘Maybe she missed us at the entrance and walked home,’ Malcolm said as he grasped at something—anything—that would ease his mind.
‘Maybe,’ Timothy said and wrapped his arm around his father’s shoulder. ‘Let’s go see if mom is okay.’
Malcolm took one last look over his shoulder as they left the school grounds.
- - -* * *- - -
‘Malcolm!’ Mary shouted and embraced her husband. She then hugged her son and kissed him repeatedly on his face. ‘I saw terrible things on GMN. I’m so glad that you’re okay.’
Malcolm swallowed hard. ‘Is Angie here?’ he asked.
Mary’s face dropped. ‘She… She’s not with you?’
Malcolm shook his head. ‘We searched everywhere for her, but couldn’t find her.’
Timothy saw that his father was overcome with emotion and that he couldn’t finish. ‘We thought that she might have walked back home during the confusion and commotion,’ Timothy said. ‘That’s why we came.’
‘What happened?’ Mary asked hysterically. ‘Where’s my baby girl?’
‘We’ll find her,’ Malcolm tried to reassure his wife. ‘I will contact the police station and we will find her. I promise.’
- - -* * *- - -
The cool water refreshed Trevor almost immediately as it splashed against his face. He rubbed off most of the dirt and then looked at his pale reflection in the mirror.
‘What’s happening?’ Trevor asked his reflection.
The mirror didn’t answer him, but someone did whisper his name.
‘Hello?’ Trevor asked and scanned the restroom. ‘Is anybody in here?’
Trevor, a voice whispered. Open your mind.
‘What?’
I want you to focus on my voice.
The voice was coming from within his head. It was a soft voice. Relaxed, yet firm. Trevor closed his eyes and saw the image of a stern-faced, olive-skinned man seated behind a desk. He had never seen the man before in his life, but Trevor felt calmer by just focusing on him. The man spoke:
I want you to pay attention to every word I say and to feel the energy; the energy that emerges from deep within yourself that enables you to break free from any fear that you may be holding inside of you.
Trevor breathed deeply and tried to open his mind as much as he could.
As you listen to my voice, allow it to be a way; a method to your understan
ding. There is no doubt that you will feel frightened about what has happened. Focus on my voice to drive that fear from yourself and to embrace that which I am about to share with you. My name is Victor Yoshe, and I am about to tell you what really happened today. Breathe deeply and allow my voice to fill your mind. Let the energy flow through you as you reach a new level of understanding and enlightenment.
Trevor opened his eyes and the image was gone, but the voice in his mind still spoke.
Allow your mind to slow down as you absorb the energy coming from my voice.
All around the world people had stopped what they were doing. Frantic mothers and fathers stopped searching for loved ones; looters stopped looting, and tribe members of deep African countries knelt down on the ground as they all listened and focused their minds on Victor’s words.
Trevor walked from the bathroom to the office where René was watching GMN. ‘René,’ he said. ‘You won’t believe what I’m seeing...’
René held up her hand to indicate that he had to stop speaking. She pointed to the television screen, and on it, Trevor saw the same olive-skinned man that he saw every time he closed his eyes.
‘How on Earth...?’ Trevor asked, but René shushed him again.
‘Wait,’ she said. ‘He is about to tell us what’s going on.’
