Disappearance (17 page)

Back in the bedroom, there's a sliding glass door that opens to a balcony. Of everything I've seen, this might be my favorite part of the house. I could see myself waking up every morning and coming out here to soak in nature with a book and a cup of coffee. You can see the highway off in the distance, which takes a little away from the view. Overall, though, it's very beautiful.

The sun is starting to go down. Before too long I won't be able to see where I'm going in the house, so I rush to look for a flashlight. In the previous house I found one in the kitchen, so I begin there. I turn out all of the drawers I can, but I'm less successful this time.

I then begin opening closet doors, bathroom drawers, table drawers, and everywhere else I'd think likely to have a flashlight, but nothing turns up. My search goes on for twenty more minutes before I decide I'm out of luck.

It's not particularly important that I find a flashlight; it would just give me a couple more hours to explore the house. I have all day tomorrow to do that.

I make my way back up to the master bedroom and step outside onto the balcony. It's cool but pleasant. The moon gives off just enough light to make it enjoyable.

I sit down on one of the chairs and think about what a crazy day it's been. Twenty-four hours ago I didn't have a cracked rib, destroyed body, and a totaled car left on the side of the road. I thought I'd be in Mobile now – in a house looking over the water.

Instead, I'm not really sure what town I'm in or even what state for that matter. I'm hungry, but not enough to motivate me to go downstairs to look for food.

I sit on the deck for about two hours, reflecting more on these past few days and, as I always do, Abby. Tonight is the first night I've had doubts that she's out there alive. Maybe she - along with everyone else - has disappeared, never to be seen again.

Thinking about it is too depressing. I've always been one to ignore my emotions if they were unpleasant. Instead, I think about my plans for tomorrow.

The first thing I need to do is look for a mode of transportation. Hopefully they have a couple nice vehicles tucked away in the garage with the keys left around somewhere.

If that proves to be the case, I'll go back to Abby's car to pick up my supplies. Then, I'll stay here for the day. After all, I can't just head toward Mobile yet; I don't have enough gas to get me there. Instead, I'll take my time and allow myself to heal.

Tomorrow will be a nice, easy day of healing with no drama. Of course, plans during the past few days have had a mysterious way of changing.

Chapter 16

When I wake up in the morning I feel groggy. It was a restless sleep for one simple reason - pain.

My arm and cracked ribs feel about the same, but my shoulder, back, neck, and head all feel worse. The car crash must have done more damage than I realized.

I don't feel like getting out of bed, and for the next hour I just lie there. The only thing that finally gets me up is my uncontrollable hunger.

Every step I take is met with pain from countless parts of my body. I go to the bathroom and take four painkillers to start. I don't care what the recommended dose is; I will be exceeding that today.

I go downstairs to assess my breakfast options. I take for granted there will be cereal and, like every time before, they do have a nice selection. I make myself a bowl and go upstairs to enjoy it from my favorite patio. It's not until I sit down when I think about one crucial detail - time. What time is it?

As painful as it is, I get up again and start looking for a clock or watch. Without electricity, I know all of the normal places won't work. I start looking through bedside drawers for an old watch, but there aren't any. Then I open up a jewelry box and, sure enough, there's a beautiful women's watch with the time saying nine thirty.

"Damn it, I've missed it."

I don't know the exact time the black car comes each day, or if it even comes at a precise time. My guess, though, is it comes around nine or a quarter to nine, which means while I was wallowing in bed for an hour I could have been watching the highway to see if it drove by.

I go back outside and watch the highway anyway – just in case they're late today – but for the next forty-five minutes I see nothing. I go back inside and take a nap.

When I get up, I feel better but not much. I look through the jewelry box and see the woman in the house is loaded with diamonds. I've only made a few diamond purchases for Abby, but I know enough to make an educated guess there's about seventy-five thousand dollars in jewelry in this little box alone.

At this point, the smell of my body odor is starting to get to me. I feel slimy and disgusting and would give anything for a shower. My bottled water is too precious to use for bath water now, but I make it a priority today to find a lake or pond. There has to be one somewhere around here.

I make my way downstairs to see what the garage looks like. Before opening the door that leads to it, I see the most beautiful thing I've ever seen - a key chain rack is hanging on the wall to the right with one set of keys. I open the door and try to push on the garage door opener. No matter how many days go by, I still can't get used to there being no electricity.

It's hard to see anything, but I can tell there are two vehicles in there. Opening the garage door is going to be a real challenge with the kind of pain I'm in. Nevertheless, I walk over - tripping over a few boxes in the process - and pull on the emergency lock.

Then I go over to the garage door and, despite all the pain, reach down and pull it open with my one good arm. Thankfully, this door is the easiest garage door I've ever opened manually. If it worked like the one at my house, I'm not sure I would have been able to open it.

Now that it's up and I have light, I see they have a black Honda Accord and a big, white Escalade SUV. As much as I would like to take the Escalade for a spin, I know gas is at a premium and I should only use the Accord.

The keychain has two electronic lock buttons. I test out both and confirm they are for both sets of cars. I still roll my Cavalier's windows up and down by hand, so being able to unlock these doors with the push of a button is quite exhilarating for me.

I open the Accord door and, after trying a few different keys, find the right one to turn on the ignition. I'm pleased when I see the gas tank is about eighty percent full. I'm also excited about performing my next illegal activity – my first car theft!

I back out of the garage, leaving the door up, and make my way down the steep, gravel driveway. When I get to the end, I think about whether I want to drive over to the little white house to see what Cujo looks like this morning. I decide I don't, not yet anyway.

I'm unsure of what to expect when I do see him. If it were a normal time in a normal world, my guess is there would be buzzards or other creatures feasting on his decayed body. Not a pretty thought, but in the animal kingdom there are a lot of things happening that humans would find unpleasant.

To get back on the highway, I make a left out of the driveway and continue to go straight. If I wanted to get to the house where I killed Cujo, I would need to make a right turn just before reaching the highway.

I still look both ways for ongoing traffic and realize I'm a more paranoid driver than usual - recently totaling a car will do that to you. Also, driving on the opposite side of the road feels odd, but I need to because I'm not exactly certain of where I wrecked and being on this side makes it easier to look.

Like with any new car I drive, I like to test it out by seeing how much faster it accelerates than my Cavalier. The Honda Accord doesn't disappoint, and in no time I reach sixty miles per hour.

I'm dreading going all the way back to where my car crashed until I realize how much faster I'll be able to get there. Yesterday was several hours of miserable walking with supplies strapped to me. Today will be a quick ten or fifteen minute drive sitting on my battered and bruised behind.

I make my way up the hill, which doesn't seem quite as large as it did yesterday. I can't help but have memories of rain and storms. I think about the tree that was struck with lightning. It was easily one of the most frightening experiences of my life as it sounded like a bomb went off next to me.

I slow down when I'm near where I think the tree is, but I can't remember which one it was. I do remember it was still standing after it was hit so it should be here somewhere. If I looked hard I'm sure I could find it, but I don't really care that much so I move on. I'll have a better view on the way back.

After about ten minutes, I see no sign of where I wrecked. I know I tumbled down a hill, but the land off the highway is one giant hill for miles. It should be close, though, and I expect it to be easy to spot when I get there. A few more miles pass and I see nothing, which makes me start to worry. Did I miss it? There's no way I could have.

Another five miles pass, and now I know I must have missed it. It couldn't have been this far, but I decide to give it five more miles before I turn around.

I don't make it the full five miles, though, before I realize I've gone too far. Off the highway, I see a quirky little clown statue I remember seeing before I wrecked. Why it's there and how it got there I have no idea. All I remember is how annoyed I was seeing the jolly look on its face at a time when I wasn't so jolly.

I make a U-turn and try to think how far it was after this statue when I wrecked. It's so hard to remember. Being knocked unconscious must have done something to my memory, but I don't think it was soon after here.

After a few minutes, I slow down to around forty miles per hour so I can make sure I don't miss seeing it this time. I look for tire tracks and the pieces of my car that came flying off on the way down.

A few more minutes pass, and there's still no sight of it. I'll know when I reach the big hill I've gone too far. It took a few hours to walk there, which means it was at least three to five miles from where I wrecked.

Sure enough, when I look forward I see the hill in the distance. I may have forgotten where I wrecked, but I know for sure that's the correct hill. That means I either passed Abby's car again or it's right here somewhere. I pull the car over and get out for a closer look.

I don't see it anywhere so I turn around and start driving back. I get out of the car again for another inspection.

At first I don't see it, but the more I look, a realization occurs to me. This is where I wrecked. I'm standing in the exact spot where I went off the road. No, there aren't any tire tracks. No pieces of Abby's BMW on the ground and, most importantly, none of the supplies I desperately want and need. But, I know for sure this is where it happened. After the wreck when I began my walk to the cabin, I stood right here and looked back, and I can tell from the landscape that this is the spot.

How can this be? Where did Abby's car go? I walk down the hill wondering why there isn't a guardrail here. It's a pretty steep hill to have nothing to protect oncoming cars from falling down it.

Once I walk down the hill, I stand on the spot where I think my car was and look back up at the road. This further confirms my belief that this is where my car was.

This realization freaks me out. If it's not here, then somebody must have taken it. That doesn't make sense, though, because I can understand someone taking the car, maybe even all of the scraps that came off, but there's no way they could have gotten rid of all the tire tracks and trampled ground from the car flipping over. This area was a disaster yesterday, but now there isn't a blade of grass out of place. All the money and lawn resources in the world couldn't have fixed this in one day. Things just keep getting stranger.

I walk back up the hill, noticing my painkillers are starting to wear off. Every step shoots pain throughout my body. I just want to get back to the cabin and take a nap, so I get in my car and turn on the ignition.

I'm a little anxious when I start the car. If it doesn't work and I'm stuck here, I think I'll push it down the hill then run in front of it so it can end my misery.

The car starts just fine, though, and I get to continue living for now. When I take off I make my way up my least favorite hill of all time. I look again for the tree that was hit by lightning. I'm not sure what would be stranger, if the tree was still in bad shape or if it magically disappeared like the car. Regardless, I keep a close eye out for trees once I get to the top of the hill. I drive slow and look but none of the trees I see look like they've been struck by lightning recently.

Whether that means the tree is repaired, or I'm just not looking in the right spot, I'm not sure. Either way, I drive down the hill thinking more about what happened to Abby's car.

When I find my turn off of the highway, I decide I must know what Cujo looks like today. Did he disappear too? If so, that means somebody may be very close to my cabin, which would make me feel very unsafe.

Until now, I've forgotten that I left my gun and ax at the house. The gun would still be difficult to use given the state of my left arm, but the ax would be better than nothing - I'm a proven killing machine with that thing. I'm surprised I forgot to take it with me.

I make a left onto the road that takes me to Cujo. Once I get past a series of trees, I get my first glimpse of the house. When I look over, Cujo is still lying there mangled and beaten to death exactly as I left him. I pull up in the driveway to get a closer look. A rush of guilt pours over me again knowing it was me who did this.

One interesting observation I see is there are no flies around him. I've seen a few dead animals before, and there are always a million flies swarming around. With Cujo though there's nothing around.

I consider getting out of my car for a closer look, but I think I've seen enough. The last thing I want to happen is to get out of my car defenseless and have a Cujo #2 come bounding over the hill. Instead, I turn around and make my way back to the cabin.