Vanish (9 page)

“Where’d you find him?”

Conner drummed his fingers on the roof of the car. This guy was pretty sharp for a biker. “In the, uhhh… in the cemetery.”

“The cemetery?”

“Yeah.” Conner wasn’t quite sure how to explain why he had gone there. He didn’t want to appear unstable. “I had… a sort of hallucination or something and…”

Mitch seemed to perk up. “Have you seen things too? People you… used to know?”

Conner raised his eyebrows. “Uh… yeah.”

Mitch lowered his gun and stared off down the road. “I saw my mother. I stopped by their house and…” He turned back to Conner. “She’s been dead for ten years.”

Conner frowned. This guy’s dead mother. Conner’s dead son. There must be some connection. At length he said, “I saw my son. He, uh… he drowned five years ago.”

“He’s dead too?”

Conner nodded. “So I stopped by the cemetery to see… you know, if his grave was still there.” Then he looked up. “Did you have any… pain or convulsions?”

Mitch shook his head. “No, nothing like that. But it was so real. I mean, I could
hear
her breathing. She was right there, just as real as you are now.”

Conner rubbed his neck. “I had this… this pain. Twice now. It was so intense, I thought I was going to pass out. It was like a pressure inside my chest. I can’t explain it. I never felt anything like it before.”

“And then what happened?”

Conner shrugged. “It just stopped. I was dizzy, lying on the floor. And then I saw Matthew. He… he walked right past me.”

Mitch’s shoulders slumped. He sat back on his motorcycle, shaking his head. “I don’t get it. What’s going on?”

“I wish I knew.” Conner fell silent for a moment. He suddenly realized how hungry he was. He hadn’t had anything to eat all day, and it was getting close to noon. “Listen, are you hungry? Have you eaten anything yet today?”

Mitch looked up and shook his head.

“Why don’t we head back to my place and get something to eat. Then maybe we can figure out what to do next.”

HELEN LEANED AGAINST the counter, dazed. The kid in the gray shirt sat up, moaning, and looked around the store.

“They took your friend,” Helen said.

She watched his expression turn from disbelief to shock. He scrambled to his feet and ran outside.

She heard him yelling. Calling for his friend. He ran up the street a little way and then back the other direction, shouting at the top of his lungs. His voice echoed among the buildings.

Helen watched him, but she felt no emotion. After everything she had just witnessed, she felt oddly detached, as if she were watching a movie. These
creatures
had crashed through plate glass, but there was no blood anywhere. They had been shot at—and hit—but the bullets had no effect.

What were they? What did they want? And why had they only taken the boy? It must’ve had something to do with the rash on his chest. She recalled seeing it spread across his face when the creature touched him. Those things must have caused it somehow. Some sort of virus maybe?

She felt dizzy, unsure of what to do next. Her main priority was still to find Kyle. Had these things taken him as well? Were they torturing him? Would that explain his burns that seemed to appear out of nowhere?

After a few minutes, the kid came back to the store, out of breath. “Did you see which way they went?”

Helen shook her head. “It happened so fast.…”

He stared at her. Helen could see his eyes slowly fill with tears. He turned away and crouched in the doorway. “What’s happening?” he said. “Why are they doing this?”

Helen drew close behind him. “I’m sorry.”

The boy sank against the doorframe, his face buried in his sleeve. Helen watched him for a moment. She couldn’t just leave him here. They would both be better off staying together. Whatever was going on, they were safer if they stuck together.

“We… we should go,” she said after a moment. “They might come back again. Maybe with others.”

“It don’t matter. They’re gonna find us wherever we go. We’ve been running from them all morning.”

Helen looked around. “Maybe we should get out of the city, like you said. We could head north. See if we can find others… other survivors.”

The kid shook his head. “I gotta find Terrell.”

Helen hesitated a moment. This was a thug with a gun, but somewhere inside she knew he was also just a kid who had lost his friend. “How old are you boys?”

He glanced at her over his shoulder, then back at the street. “Sixteen.”

Sixteen
? Helen peered at the boy and shook her head. “What’s your name?”

He seemed to ignore her for a moment, looking up and down the street. “Devon,” he said at length. “Devon Marshall.”

Helen’s voice softened as she knelt behind him. “Devon, maybe we can help each other. I lost someone too. I lost my son. I’ve been looking for him all morning. And I just want to find out what happened to him.”

Devon looked at the gun in his grasp. “I shot that thing at least eight times. I know I hit it. It didn’t even bleed. Not one drop of blood.”

“That’s why we shouldn’t wait around for them to come back.”

Devon shook his head. “Lady, those things probably got your son already, like they got everyone else. We’re the only ones left. And I bet they’ll come for us, too.”

Helen stood up. “Well, I don’t believe it. We can’t be the only ones left. There have to be others somewhere. Maybe just as confused and scared, but I bet they’re out there somewhere.” She stepped around him and headed for her car. “And I’m going to find them.”

“Lady,” Devon called after her. “Yo, lady.”

“And you know something?” Helen turned around. “My name is Helen. You got that? Your ghetto act is getting a little old.”

“Helen.” Devon stood up. “I’ll come with you.”

MITCH FOUND HIMSELF headed back north now, following the guy in the Mercedes. He still wasn’t sure if he could trust him. After what he had seen at his father’s house, he wasn’t going to trust anything he saw. Especially since this guy had obviously tried to hide that kid from him.

Maybe he had kidnapped the boy. Or maybe he was just trying to protect him. Mitch had to admit his own hulking, tattooed appearance didn’t always make a good first impression.

They turned off the highway and headed through a residential area, past a golf course, and finally into a gated condo community. Mitch had only seen places like this from the outside. Way outside.

The palatial condominiums were impressive—homes to rich empty nesters or childless professionals, Mitch guessed. Or at least they had been once. Now they stood stark and silent in the sunlight. For all the wealth represented here, Mitch felt like he was driving through an Arizona ghost town.

They pulled up to a particularly large condo. Part of a three-unit building. They stopped at the farthest one. The backyard butted up to the golf course.

The lawyer and the kid got out of the Mercedes. Mitch ran his hand across the fender. He could tell the kid was watching him intently. Big brown eyes stared out from under a low mop of black hair.

Mitch pointed to the dent. “You say this just happened?”

The lawyer nodded. “Yeah. Just a few minutes before we came across you.”

“The paint’s chipped off,” Mitch grunted. “It’s rusting already. Looks a few months old at least.”

Conner shrugged. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. It just happened a few minutes ago.”

Mitch scraped a chip of paint off and narrowed his eyes.

“Look,” Conner said. “I just bought this car three months ago. I’ve got the paperwork to prove it.”

Mitch stood with his hands on his hips, biting the inside of his cheek. He didn’t trust this guy. Not at all. But then again, there didn’t seem much reason to be afraid of him either. His hair was mussed and his clothes were disheveled. It looked like maybe he’d slept in them. Maybe he was a lawyer. Maybe he wasn’t. Either way, he didn’t look like he weighed more than one seventy, one eighty, tops. Mitch had several inches and nearly fifty pounds on him.

Besides, Mitch had the gun. He wasn’t going to give up the gun.

He followed them inside.

Conner went to the kitchen. “You want a sandwich?”

Mitch followed close behind. If the guy had a gun stashed around somewhere, he wasn’t going to make it easy for him to get it. “A sandwich is fine.”

Conner brought bread, meat, cheese, and mayo from the refrigerator.

The kid sat at the table, watching them. Conner made a roast beef sandwich and set it in front of the boy.

The kid just stared at it.

Conner motioned with his hands. “Go ahead; eat.”

The kid pushed the plate away.

Conner frowned. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Maybe he’s a vegetarian,” Mitch muttered.

Conner picked up the sandwich. “No, it’s okay. See?” He took a bite. Then promptly gagged and spit it back out.

“What’s the matter?” Mitch sniffed the package of beef and winced. The scent was strong with rot. “Dude, your meat’s bad.”

Conner shook his head. “I just bought it a couple days ago. It can’t be bad already.” He looked at the date on the label. Then he sniffed the bag of turkey cold cuts and grimaced.

Conner rummaged through all the food in his refrigerator, sniffing and grunting.

Mitch inspected a slice of the bread. Green spots peppered the crust. “Y’know, I’m no biologist or anything, but this looks like mold to me.”

Conner scratched his head. “The power’s on. But everything smells. Meat’s rotten. Milk’s sour.”

“So much for lunch, huh.”

Conner began searching his cabinets. “I gotta have something here that’s not spoiled or stale.”

Mitch shook his head. “Look. Dude. I’m not even hungry anymore. And I don’t think we should be wasting our time just sittin’ around here. I was headed into the city. I figure there’s gotta be more people there.”

“Fine.” Conner nodded. “But I think we should stick together. I think we’re safer—you know, better off, if we stick together.”

“Whatever.” Mitch shrugged. “I just want to find some answers.”

“So do I—” Conner stopped and stared through the glass doors of the breakfast nook.

Mitch peered outside. A dense grove of trees and foliage lined the back of the property. Patches of sunlight and shadow mingled with a tangle of branches and tree trunks. Something about the scene drew Mitch’s gaze further in.

“Do you see that?” Conner whispered.

“Uhhh… I’m not sure.…” Mitch squinted but couldn’t make out what had drawn the lawyer’s attention.

Then something moved in the shadows.

Mitch gasped involuntarily. He could see one of the creatures in the shade. It stood so still that it blended in among the tree trunks and branches.

Conner moved closer to the window. “It looks like it’s watching us.”

Mitch fingered the grip of his gun. “They’re all over the place.”

“Maybe, but I only see one of them.”

Mitch found his chest pounding. His hands bristled with cold sweat. “I don’t think they’re ever alone. When I saw them this morning, there was at least three of them.”

Conner shook his head. “I think it’s time to stop cowering and see what they want.”

“
What
?” Mitch said. “You’re not going out there?”

Conner nodded. “And I’ll need you to come with and cover me.”

“Are you
nuts
?”

“You said you wanted to get some answers. My guess is they—” Conner nodded out the window—“may have some.”

“Yeah, but I—I meant to find some other
people
.” Mitch found himself stammering. “Not
them
! You said you ran into one of them with your car. How do you know they’re not… y’know, hostile or something?”

“That’s just it. I think if they had wanted to harm us, they could’ve done that at any time. It just looks like they’re watching.”

Mitch’s jaw tightened. He hated being debated into a corner like this. It reminded him of the arguments he used to have with his father over politics and religion. He could feel the same sense of frustration growing in him now. Growing to anger. It was like trying to talk to a wall. A robot, preprogrammed with an opinion.

He glared at the lawyer, but the man just looked back at him with a placid expression. The look of someone who was certain he was right, regardless of the truth.

After a moment Mitch looked away. “Fine,” he said through his teeth. He was out of excuses. He took a breath and pulled his gun out of his belt.

As Conner slid the door open, the boy jumped from the stool and gripped his arm. He shook his head, wide-eyed.

Mitch snorted. “Y’know, maybe he knows something. Maybe we should listen to him.”

Conner clutched the boy’s shoulders. “It’s all right. We’ll be all right. We just want to try to talk with them. You stay here.”

But the boy refused to let go. Conner set him firmly into a chair. “Stay here!”

They stepped out onto the patio and inspected the yard. Mitch peered into the foliage along the back of the lot. He could see only the one figure standing in the trees, still as a statue.

Mitch held the gun at his side, safety off, finger on the trigger. Fifty feet of thick grass led up to the tree line. It felt like a hundred and fifty.

They moved toward the trees. About halfway, Conner began talking to the creature.

“We… we just want answers,” he said. “We just want to find out what you want. What are you looking for?”

They inched closer. The thing didn’t move.

Conner whispered to Mitch, “He’s not trying to hide, but he’s not coming out.”

Mitch nodded. “He’s staying in the shade.”

“The ones I saw at the cemetery all kept to the shade too. I wonder if they’re trying to avoid direct sunlight. Maybe it affects them.”

“Same with the ones I saw.”

They stopped a few yards from the trees. The creature remained motionless.

Mitch squinted. It was tall, probably over seven feet. And thin. Its torso was no thicker than Mitch’s thigh, and its gangly limbs bulged at the joints. Mitch couldn’t make out distinct hands. Just fleshy appendages that looked like mere extensions of its arms.