Vanish (16 page)

Suddenly, Helen touched his arm. A gray Cherokee pulled up at the curb. Conner could see Mitch and Devon inside along with a third man at the wheel.

They all got out.

“Howdy!” The stranger grinned. He was lanky, dressed in layered shirts and baggy jeans. Unruly brown hair hung down to his shoulders, and a wispy goatee lined his chin. He stuck out his hand. “Name’s Ray Cahill.”

Conner blinked at the overpowering body odor. “Uhh… Conner Hayden.”

“Helen Krause,” Helen said, holding a hand under her nose.

Mitch curled up an eyebrow and stuck a thumb over his shoulder. “We came across him a few blocks away.”

“They broke into my house.” Ray chuckled. “I don’t mind tellin’ you I was a bit surprised. I figured it was the end of the world, y’know? I thought I was the last man on earth. But I’m glad to finally see some real live human beings.”

“You’re all alone here?”

“Yep. Except for, y’know… the aliens.”

“You’ve seen them too?”

Ray nodded. “They show up every once in a while.”

Conner frowned. “They’ve never attacked you? tried to abduct you?

“Attack? Naw. They pretty much keep to themselves. They show up at night, mostly. I seen ’em watching me through the windows. That’s why I originally kept moving from house to house. But they never did anything to me.”

“Did they ever try to communicate with you?”

Ray shook his head. “I heard ’em whispering to each other, but I couldn’t understand what they’re saying.”

Conner paused a moment. “What about hallucinations?”

“Hallucinations?”

“Yeah, have you ever seen anything you knew wasn’t there? Or couldn’t be there?”

“Well… yeah.” Ray scratched the back of his neck. “I thought maybe I was goin’ crazy. Y’know, insane or something.”

Conner shook his head. “We’ve had similar experiences. And wondered the same thing. They must be able to scan our thoughts somehow and create images from our memories.”

Ray breathed a sigh. “Well, that explains an awful lot.”

Conner nodded toward the store. “You’ve been getting your food from here?”

Ray put his hands up. “I know what you’re thinking, but it ain’t really like stealing. I mean, I
had
to eat, y’know.”

“It’s not that,” Conner said. “It’s just… exactly how long have you been here?”

“Oh, uhhhh…” Ray’s eyes rolled up. His lips moved silently.

Conner and the others exchanged glances. Their frowns deepened.

After a moment, Ray snorted. “Oh, I don’t know. I lost count. Maybe six or seven weeks.”

“Six or seven
weeks
?” Helen raised her eyebrows.

“Maybe more.” Ray shrugged. “What’s wrong?”

Conner narrowed his eyes. This guy was obviously not firing on all cylinders. “You, uh… you sure it’s been that long?”

“Well, I kept a calendar for a few weeks. Thought I’d need to keep track of time. After a while, I figured, what’s the use?”

“Dude,” Mitch said. “This all just happened yesterday.”

“Yesterday!” Ray started to laugh, but his grin quickly faded. “What are you talking about?”

“The storm,” Conner said. “Did you see it? The cloud with all the lights in it?”

“Sure did. But I hate to tell you, that first showed up a couple of months ago.” Ray snorted again and shook his head. “Where’ve you folks been all this time?”

THEY ALL STOOD IN SILENCE. Conner shook his head, trying to process this new information. The whole experience was getting more and more bizarre. The last thing he recalled before the storm—the night before last—was having supper with Rachel. Then he woke up the next morning. At least he’d
assumed
it was the next morning. He never actually checked what day it was. Or what month. He had just made an assumption. They all had.

Devon threw his hands in the air. “Man, this is
not
happening to me!”

Mitch just leaned against the Cherokee, his head lowered.

Helen shook her head. “I don’t get it. What’s going on?”

“The food.” Conner rubbed his jaw and nodded to himself. “Maybe that’s why all the food is stale. And the meat in my refrigerator was spoiled.”

“So where have we been for seven weeks?” Mitch said. “On the mother ship somewhere?”

“I don’t know. But maybe that’s how they’re able to know so much about us,” Conner offered. His head was reeling at the thought. But nothing else made sense.

“I can’t…” Helen’s voice cracked. “I can’t take much more of this.…”

“Remember what I was saying on the boat?” Conner said. “This whole thing has been like a big experiment. It’s like they’re testing us. Putting different stimuli in our paths to see how we react. Or how we’d work together. Maybe that’s what this is all about.”

Mitch folded his arms. “Like rats in a maze?”

“Exactly,” Conner said. It was all about piecing together the evidence. Following the trail. Finding the truth. “Like lab rats.”

“Dude, I know what they do to lab rats.” Mitch shook his head. “I don’t think I like being one.”

“I know,” Conner said. “There’s still a lot that doesn’t make sense.”

They piled into Ray’s Cherokee and drove back to his house. He said they were in Thorton, Indiana, a small, unincorporated town on the Lake Michigan shore.

Mitch was looking at a map, shaking his head. “Looks like we almost came clear across the lake.”

“I grew up here,” Ray was saying. “I moved to Kentucky for a couple years when I was twenty. And then a year in California. A couple years in Washington. Oh, and a year in Arizona.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Hmm, Arizona was great.… But I just moved back in with my folks about six months ago. Well—” he scratched his head—“six months before this all happened.”

Conner tried to pry more useful information from him. “But you haven’t seen anyone else this whole time?”

“Nope.”

“Did you ever leave town? Did you ever go out and
look
for people?”

“Yeah, I drove around a bit. I spent the first week or so sitting out on the interstate during the day. But no one ever showed up. So I figured, if I’m gonna spend the rest of my life alone, I might as well have fun. Y’know? Plus I figured I’d have a better chance of someone seeing me if I stayed put.”

“And the aliens,” Conner said. “How often do you see them?”

Ray shrugged. “Once every few nights. They really freaked me out at first so I got a couple shotguns. But they never did anything, so I guess I just learned to ignore them.”

Devon grunted. “Well, the ones in Chicago ain’t so friendly.”

Conner pressed further. “Do you ever see where they come from?”

Ray glanced in his rearview mirror. “They come out of the lake. Best I can figure, they stay there during the day. I see ’em walking up from the beach when the fog rolls in.”

“And you say they never attack you?”

“Nope,” Ray said. “But the whole town kinda looks like a bad zombie movie. They just wander around. I think maybe they’re just exploring. Looking around, y’know? Checking out the buildings and stuff.”

Helen shuddered. “Well if it’s all the same to everyone else, I just as soon not stick around for that. I think we should keep moving.”

“Where to?” Ray said, frowning.

“East,” Mitch said. “I think we should head to Washington. If anyone survived whatever happened, it’d be those folks. All those guys have bunkers to hide out in, in case of nuclear war or something.”

No one disagreed. No one seemed able to offer a better plan. Conner had to admit it wasn’t bad logic, though he didn’t think they’d find anyone there either. He decided not to share those feelings. No need to be the pessimist.

They pulled up to Ray’s house and went inside. Helen’s eyes widened when she saw the mess. Ray apologized profusely and set about clearing away the clutter and opening the shades and windows.

Conner suggested they take the morning to rest. They had all been up for over twenty-four hours now, and he was exhausted.

Mitch said they should sleep in shifts and offered to keep watch first.

Helen lay down on a sofa in the back den, off the kitchen. Devon fell into a stained recliner in the living room. Conner, unable to stand the odor inside the house, found a padded bench swing on the front porch. He fell into it and yawned.

Mitch and Ray settled into a pair of lawn chairs on the other end of the porch with their guns.

Conner watched Mitch for a moment. “By the way, I’m sorry about losing it earlier. Blaming you for what happened to the kid. I don’t normally overreact like that. It’s just, this whole thing has been a nightmare for everyone.”

“No problem.” Mitch shrugged it off. “Sorry for almost blowing your head off.”

Conner chuckled and leaned back. He heard Ray ask something about what kid, and Mitch began a brief explanation of their encounters thus far. Their voices faded to a muddled blah, blah, blah, as Conner felt himself swinging gently and drifting off to sleep.

It was the first time he had a chance to actually lie down and close his eyes. He hadn’t gotten any sleep on the boat. A soft breeze wafted over the porch. Conner was soon on the verge of slumber. That point at which there remained a faint awareness of the things around him, yet where he was far too relaxed to react. And just at that point, he heard something.

A thump, thump of footsteps on a wooden floor. But not footsteps.

In the fog of his half sleep, Conner tried to pinpoint the sound. It was one he had heard before, though not in a long while.

Not footsteps… a ball.

Bouncing down the stairs.

CONNER’S EYES snapped open.

He was no longer on the swing. Or the porch. Or in Thorton, Indiana, for that matter. He was…

He was home.

Not his condo. That had never really felt like
home
in the two years he had lived there. No, this was
their
home in Lake Forest. The home he and Marta had purchased together. His chest ached. It was the home he had grown to despise of late. And the home he had come to miss even more.

He was standing in the breakfast nook. Sunlight poured in through the bay window. Papers were strewn across the table. The sun was so bright.

And noise. He could hear noises echoing through the rooms. Layer upon layer of sound. He strained to listen and immediately discovered he knew these sounds. He had heard them before. Laughter and weeping and bedtime stories and arguments and lovemaking and singing. The sounds of life. All happening at once. All together. All still a gentle cacophony.

Music. Marta loved music. Amid the collage of sounds, Conner could hear her familiar voice. Sweet and soft. Singing to herself as she cooked. She used to fill the whole house with her singing. It was soothing in a way, and he remembered he had forgotten how much he loved her voice.

And there was Rachel’s laughter. Conner grinned at her jittery giggles flowing through the hallway. She would laugh like that when he’d tickle her on the backs of her legs. He could hear seven years of piano lessons. “Chopsticks” and Chopin. Beethoven and “The Entertainer.” He spread his arms and closed his eyes and let it flow over him and through him.

Then came a tiny Tarzan yell.

Conner’s eyes snapped open again. His lips moved.
Matthew
?

Tarzan. Spider-Man. Batman. All rolled into one. Swinging on the tree rope, flopping on the trampoline, jumping on the sofa. Bouncing basketballs and kicking soccer balls through the house. And always, always making noise. Conner’s eyes stung. Matthew played with such gusto.

Watch this, Daddy!

Look what I can do!

Didja see that?

Didja see me?

And then…

Then the sounds slowly faded. Conner strained to keep them. He spun in the room, reaching out as if to gather them back. “Please!” he pleaded. “Don’t go! Not yet…”

He missed it. He missed all of it and he longed now more than anything to have it back. If just for a minute.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The sound came again. A singular beating. A ball, bouncing down the steps. Followed by footsteps pounding in the upstairs hall. Now down the stairs.

Conner rushed into the front hallway. A soccer ball rolled past and a tousled form tumbled after, laughing. Into Conner’s front room office they went, the ball and the boy. Conner was forever shooing Matthew out. He hurried down the hall to the doorway. He would catch him at last. He would finally catch him. And maybe then find the answer.

Conner looked into the room. Matthew’s back was toward him, the ball tucked under his arm. He stared out the window.

Conner’s heart raced. He could hear it pounding in his ears. He could feel his whole body throbbing.

“Matthew!” His voice was a hoarse whisper. He didn’t want to scare him.

Matthew didn’t move. He raised a finger and pressed it to the glass.

Conner took a step into the room. “Matthew? It’s me. It’s Daddy.”

Matthew’s finger tapped at the glass. He whispered something. Conner leaned forward. He couldn’t make it out.

Conner knew the vision wasn’t real, yet here he was. He knew it was a hallucination, yet he couldn’t keep himself from being drawn further in. He had to know. He had to find out.

“What?” he said, taking another hesitant step. “What did you say?”

He squeezed back tears. He just needed to know.

Matthew tapped the glass again and turned around.

Conner fell back. His mouth opened to scream, but his breath was sucked from his lungs.

Matthew’s blond hair tumbled down onto his forehead. Beneath his forehead, only shallow indentations of flesh marked the place where his eyes should have been. Only two flittering nostril slits opened on a pallid bump. And his mouth. He had no mouth. Only smooth flesh.

Conner shook his head. “No!” He tried to scream but he had no strength to move. Hardly even to breathe.

A tiny slit then appeared in the flesh where Matthew’s mouth would be, like the skin unzipping a small opening. It moved more like a doll’s than a living mouth.