Vanish (8 page)

The road wound an erratic course through the cemetery. Conner’s hands sweated with raw panic now. What was going on? What were those things? He gunned the accelerator, skidding around turns, sideswiping a large mausoleum and toppling a Virgin Mary.

They had reached the main entrance when something lunged out in front of them. Conner caught a glimpse of a tall, shadowy torso, arms held out, and a head… a head with no face!

Conner cried out as the Mercedes plowed into it. The creature bounced off the fender with a sickening thump. He swore and spun the wheel hard. Tires screaming, the car roared into the street, fishtailing as Conner fought to keep control. He glanced in the rearview mirror. A gray mass rolled across the pavement, off to the side of the road.

Just before the creature disappeared from view, Conner thought he saw it getting back to its feet. He jammed the accelerator to the floor and headed toward the highway.

HELEN FELT THE COLD, hard metal of a gun against her skull. She took a breath and raised her free hand. Her other hand was jammed in the shelf, her fingertips still closed around the gun she had found there.

“Get both your hands where I can see them!” the voice snapped.

Helen released her grip on the gun and removed her other hand. The voice had the harsh timbre of a street thug, probably just a teenager, but that gave her no comfort. Her heart pounded as she straightened up and put both hands in the air.

“I… I don’t have any money—”

“Shut up!”

A second set of footsteps approached, and Helen reflexively turned her head.

“I said,
don’t move
!”

A second voice let loose a string of profanity.

“What you gonna do? You gonna shoot her?”

“What if she’s one of
them
?”

“She ain’t one of them.”

“How do you know? You don’t even know what they look like for sure.”

There was a pause.

“Yo, lady. What’s your name?”

Helen turned to face them.

Two black kids stood over her. Both were tall and lanky. The first one—the one with the gun—wore a black White Sox sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. The other one wore a gray Nike T-shirt and jeans. Neither of them was older than eighteen, she guessed, twenty at the most.

“Helen,” she said, leaving out her last name.

“Where you live,
Helen
?” White Sox snapped.

Helen shook her head. “I’m not giving you my address.”

White Sox pointed his gun in her face. “Lady, I ain’t foolin’ with you. Tell me where you live!”

“In the—in the Hudson, on—on Lake Shore! Thirty-seventh floor.”

White Sox sneered and leaned closer. “Who won the World Series last year?”

“What?” Helen shook her head. “I don’t know! I don’t follow baseball!”

“Yo, man—just chill out!” The other kid pushed the gun away. White Sox shoved him back.

Helen closed her eyes as the two argued through a barrage of expletives. She tried to concentrate on her breathing, control her emotions, and clear her head.

The kid in the gray T-shirt argued that they should leave now and get out of the city. And though he seemed to be the older of the two, and probably the leader, White Sox was not going to be easily persuaded. He must have felt Helen had information about what had happened to everyone. They were as clueless as she was, and just as scared, if not more so.

“Please,” Helen interrupted, doing her best to sound calm. “I don’t know what’s going on either.”

Nike turned to her. “You seen anyone? Anyone following you?”

Helen shook her head. “I—I haven’t seen anyone.” She decided against telling them about her encounter with Kyle. For all she knew, it had been her imagination. In either case, it would only pique their interest and extend this ordeal.

Nike crouched down. “Lady, someone’s out there. I don’t know who it is or what they want. They been following us all day.” He paused and looked down for a moment. “I don’t think they’re human. And I don’t think they’re friendly.”

“What’re you saying?” Helen peered at him.

White Sox swore. “You need us to spell it out for you?
Aliens
, lady. They’re aliens!”

Helen nodded. “The storm. Did you see the clouds moving in off the lake last night?”

“Yeah, we saw it.” White Sox lifted his sweatshirt, revealing a dark purple rash covering his stomach and chest. “And they did something to me! I want to know what they did to me!”

It wasn’t a burn like Helen had seen on Kyle. This looked more like a rash or a bruise. “What is it?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out!” White Sox’s voice was gruff, but Helen could see fear in his eyes. “I woke up this morning with this on my chest. And now it’s spreading.”

Helen backed away. “Does it hurt?”

He lowered his shirt. “A little. Like a burn. But it’s cold. It feels cold.”

Helen shook her head. “I… I’m not a doctor. I don’t know what—”

White Sox put his hand up, slipped over to the door, and crouched down. “Listen,” he said. “You hear that?”

Nike followed him. Helen could see a gun under his shirt, tucked into the back of his jeans.

Now she heard it too. Outside. Soft at first, like a breeze moaning through the empty buildings.
No
, thought Helen,
not wind. More like…

Breathing.

A long, slow inhale started softly but grew steadily louder until it reached a deafening crescendo—like a jet engine—and then stopped suddenly.

White Sox turned around, his eyes wide. “They’re here!”

The next instant, the window and door shattered. Shards of glass shot across the room. Helen ducked behind the counter and covered her eyes as glass rained down.

The store erupted in shouting and gunfire.

When she looked up again, she saw a tall figure standing in the doorway. Tall, thin, and gray. It loomed behind White Sox and wrapped a pair of long arms around his chest, crushing him in a bear hug. The thing had no face that Helen could see, like a blurred shadow. But it had substance.

White Sox screamed and kicked. Helen watched as his face and hands changed color. His skin turned purple. As if the rash or bruise—or whatever it was—had suddenly spread across his entire body.

The creature lifted White Sox off his feet and stepped back through the shattered doorway. The boy continued to struggle and scream as it carried him around the corner of the building. It was the high-pitched, blood-chilling scream of a terrified kid.

Nike had drawn his gun and was firing at a second figure, crouched in the aisle in front of him. The creature made no effort to elude the barrage of bullets. It slowly straightened up and stood still. Helen could see bullets pummeling its body, but they disappeared into the gray flesh, leaving no holes and no damage.

The creature lunged forward, caught the boy by the neck, and lifted him up, peering at his face. It turned him slightly as if inspecting him. Nike tried to scream but could manage only a gargled whimper.

Helen gathered her senses and scrambled for the gun under the register. She reached into the shelf and felt her fingers close around the grip. She turned to take aim.

But the creature was gone. And the boy lay on the floor, gasping for breath.

CONNER SPED THROUGH TOWN, flying though empty intersections. His eyes flicked reflexively from the road to the rearview mirror and back.

Had he seen what he thought he had seen? He’d struck one of the gray men—if in fact it was a man—going at least thirty miles an hour and sent him flying off his fender. Conner watched him roll across the pavement, only to see him get up again as if nothing was wrong.

He glanced at the boy in the seat next to him. The boy who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—talk. “You know what’s going on, don’t you?”

The boy just stared at him. He could obviously hear Conner but didn’t seem to understand what he was saying.

Conner tried again. “
Habla Español? ”

The kid didn’t look Hispanic. His black hair and dark eyes made him look more Middle Eastern, maybe… Iranian or Palestinian.

Conner tried to focus his attention on the road, but his thoughts returned to the creatures in the cemetery. Were they after them? Was it both of them they wanted or just the kid? And why couldn’t he get a clear look at them? They seemed to be wearing some kind of camouflage. It had all happened so fast, but still… it was as if they were out of focus. Just enough to prevent him from making out any identifying traits. Maybe it was some sort of high-tech camouflage device. And why not? Anyone who could make an entire population disappear would certainly be able to do something like that. Conner’s mind reeled.

He recalled the repairman on the roof. That had been
before
the storm. Before everyone had disappeared. Maybe it wasn’t an illusion after all. Maybe this was some sort of orchestrated attack.

But an attack by whom?

As irrational as it all seemed, was there something extraterrestrial at work? What else could explain the bizarre cloud bank? Or cause his hallucination of Matthew?

He turned onto the highway and headed back home. Maybe he’d be able to find some way to communicate with this kid. He obviously knew something about these creatures. Maybe he had been captured by them and had just escaped.

Conner shook his head. He was a skeptic’s skeptic and now here he was, entertaining theories of, what? Government conspiracies? Alien abductions?

Up ahead, sunlight glinted off of something metallic, coming toward them. It was another vehicle. He saw a single headlight.

A motorcycle!

Conner flashed his lights and slowed down. A knot tightened in his stomach. What if it was just more of the creatures? How many more of them were out here? What if they were tracking him or following him?

The motorcycle passed by. The rider was a muscular guy in a black T-shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket. A long blond ponytail fluttered behind him. He slowed down and peered at them from behind dark glasses; then he turned around and came back.

They both came to a stop on either side of the median.

“Stay put.” Conner motioned to the boy while he got out of the car.

The other man had gotten off his bike and reached behind his back. A moment later he had produced a handgun and pointed it directly at Conner. “Don’t move!”

Conner swore. Just his luck—the second person he came across today was some freak who was going to shoot him!

“Whoa, whoa!” Conner put his hands up. “Take it easy!”

The man scowled at Conner. “Who are you?”

Conner stared at the gun. “Uh… my name’s Conner. I… uh…” He wondered how much to tell this guy. “I live right up in Lake Forest.… Look, I’m in the same predicament you are.”

The man leaned forward, keeping the gun pointed at Conner’s face. “How do
you
know what kind of predicament I’m in?”

Conner forced a grim smile. “Well, let me guess. You woke up this morning to find everybody had disappeared.”

“And what do you know about it?”

“Nothing. That’s just what happened to me. I’m out looking for answers, same as you.”

Conner could feel the stranger’s gaze boring through him from behind the dark glasses. “Look…” Conner softened his voice. His lawyer skills were kicking in. He needed to persuade this guy to put his gun away. “Look, I’m freaked out here too, okay? But let’s not do anything rash. I mean, we’ll both do better if we can work together, y’know? I just want some answers. Same as you.”

The man lowered the gun slightly. “What’d you say your name was?”

Conner nodded. He was making progress. “Hayden. Conner Hayden. I… I’m a lawyer. What about you?”

The guy bit the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Mitch,” he said finally.

“Mitch.” Conner nodded again. “Good… good. Uh… look, Mitch, would you mind just pointing that thing down or something? I’ll stay right here; I’m just a little nervous with you aiming that gun at me.”

Mitch hesitated a moment, then lowered the gun.

Conner breathed a sigh. “Good. That’s good.”

Mitch removed his glasses. His face was solemn. “We’re not alone.”

“What do you mean?”

Mitch looked up and down the empty highway. “I mean, someone’s been watching me. Maybe following me. I don’t know. I don’t think they’re… human.”

Conner nodded slowly. “I think I ran across a couple of them a few minutes ago.”

“I never got a good look at them.”

“Neither did I,” Conner said. “I think they’re using some kind of… camouflage or something. Did they come after you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did they try to chase you?”

“No.” Mitch shook his head. “No, they just seemed to be watching me. But I got the distinct feeling they weren’t friendly.”

Conner gestured toward the dent in his fender. “Well, one of them stepped out in front of my car.”

“Where?”

“We saw some of them in the…” Conner paused, wondering whether he should tell this stranger that he had just come from a cemetery because he’d been hallucinating.

“
We
?” Mitch’s expression turned dark. “I thought you said you were alone?”

Conner bit his lip. “Uh… yeah, I was.” He hesitated, then opened the driver-side door and motioned to the boy. “Until I found him.”

Mitch raised the gun again. “Who’s that?”

“Take it easy,” Conner said. “I don’t know who he is. I just came across him a little while ago. But he seemed to know that those things were after us.”

Mitch’s brow remained furrowed. “What do you mean you ‘just came across him’?”

“Well,” Conner said, “I guess it’d be more accurate to say he found me.”

“How do you know he’s not one of them?”

Conner glanced at the boy. The kid was leaning across the seat, staring at both of them. His brown eyes wide and haunting. Conner turned back to Mitch and shrugged. “I guess I don’t.”

“Maybe they’re after
him
.”

Conner shook his head. “Maybe. But I don’t think he speaks any English. At least he doesn’t seem to understand. And I couldn’t get him to speak at all.”