The Vanishings (6 page)

Lionel Washington always looked forward to the times when Uncle André would come to Mount Prospect and stay overnight. He might be in town for an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting or one of the other half-dozen or so support groups he belonged to. Other times he might just be in the area “on business,” though Lionel’s mother often asked him not to share what that business might be.

The night Judd Thompson Jr. sat on the 747, unable to sleep, and Vicki Byrne crept into her bed, unable to stay awake, Lionel Washington grew bleary-eyed in his own home.

Lionel’s older sister, Clarice, had helped her mother put the younger kids to bed a few
hours before. Then she and Lionel and their mother and father sat in the family room as Uncle André told story after story, making them laugh and cry and laugh some more.

Clarice was the first to beg off. “I’ve got to get up early tomorrow,” she said.

Lionel’s mother was next. “We’re expecting a story to be filed from our London office tomorrow. I can’t be late for work. Lionel, when André finally runs out of steam, which I hope is real soon, you two can sleep on the couch in the basement as usual.”

“Thank you, Sis,” André said. “I won’t keep your man up much longer.”

He was referring to Lionel’s dad, who loved André and his stories. There he sat in his easy chair, trying to listen, trying not to doze. He looked comfortable, a big old working man in a terry cloth robe three sizes too big. He rubbed the corners of his eyes. “Should have taken these contacts out hours ago,” he said.

“I’m gonna let you go to bed, bro-in-law,” André told him. “Lionel and me will head downstairs.”

“Good idea,” Mr. Washington said. “I’ll just sit here a few more minutes before going up to bed myself. G’night, boys.”

Lionel found himself falling asleep next to his uncle in the basement even though André
was still telling some story. Lionel was half listening for his father’s footsteps above them, which would let Lionel know he had gone off to bed.

But he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. He fell asleep listening to his uncle’s whispering, whiny laugh and only hoped André wouldn’t be insulted when he realized Lionel was asleep.

Ryan Daley had very nearly been allowed to stay at his best friend’s house that night. His mother had to take the next morning off so she could pick up Ryan’s dad at O’Hare Airport. Ryan was to walk to school with Raymie Steele just before his mother was to leave. Both boys thought it might be a good idea if he just stayed overnight with Raymie.

But Mrs. Steele apologized for not being able to have a guest that night. Ryan’s mother told him that Mrs. Steele had said that her husband had a flight and that she preferred they do this some other night. “In fact, she suggested this weekend and asked if it was all right if you went to church with them. I told Mrs. Steele that that would be fine.”

“Oh, Mom!”

“It won’t be so bad, honey. I went to church a few times when I was a kid, and it didn’t hurt me any. Just act nice, and they’ll be nice to you.”

Ryan dreaded even the thought of that, and he wished he could have stayed at Raymie’s that night. But he would see Raymie in the morning, and they would have fun this weekend—even if he did have to go to church.

With his dad away on business, Ryan knew his mother would stay up watching television longer than normal. He let her see him in bed and turn off his light, then waited until he was sure she was settled in downstairs. He shut his door all the way and stayed up reading and listening to music.

Ryan was getting drowsy when he thought he heard something. He lifted one earphone, listening for his mother. If she was coming up to bed, she would be able to see the light streaming under his door. He rolled over and flicked off his light, but he heard no footsteps on the stairs. What he heard was a siren, maybe more than one.

He tiptoed to the window and peered out. On the horizon he saw the pink glow of a fire in the distance. Way to his left was another. Then he heard closer sirens. This
was a crazy night for some reason. He wanted to see if there was anything on the news, and he wondered if he could convince his mother the sirens had woken him when he padded downstairs.

Ryan carefully opened the door and went down the carpeted steps. He peeked into the television room, where his mother’s movie was ending. She was sound asleep. He waited until the credits had rolled and the commercials came on, hoping there might be some news. But as soon as the last commercial played, the national anthem came on, signaling the end of the broadcast day.

He thought about changing the channel, but he knew that would awaken his mother. When the station signed off the air, the static roused his mother, and Ryan hurried back upstairs before she noticed him. He climbed under the covers in the dark and pretended to be asleep when she peeked in on him, as usual.

He was going to put his headphones back on and try to tune in some radio news. But now he was really tired. The sirens seemed farther away, so he just closed his eyes.

J
UDD
was so keyed up, so excited, and yet so worried about what his parents were going to do when they discovered he had disappeared, he couldn’t imagine having fallen asleep. Yet he had. He figured out how to make the seat back recline, and he was soon staring at the dark ceiling, his eyes beginning to grow accustomed to the low light. He folded his arms across his chest and forced himself to breathe more and more slowly. He had to relax, needed to get some rest if he was going to succeed in finding a place to hide out in London.

Hattie, the flight attendant, glided by every half hour or so, and Judd realized he was finally starting to unwind when he quit looking forward to watching her. Eventually, the slow blinking began, then he turned side
ways and curled up. Now he had to close his eyes or he would appear to stare at the large man in the window seat next to him.

The man had said not one word the entire flight, but Judd noticed he had bowed his head before eating. That Judd would never do, not even in private, unless he was with his family. That was another reason he needed to be out on his own—so he wouldn’t be embarrassed by all their religious rituals. His mother hated when Judd referred to her faith as a religion. She had told him so many times he had memorized it, “Christianity is not a religion, it’s a relationship with God through Christ.”

Yeah, OK,
Judd thought.

Judd had no idea how long he had been sleeping. In fact, he wasn’t sure he had slept at all. And if he had slept, was he really awake now? He was disoriented, in the same position he had curled into, how long ago? He felt as if he had been sleeping and had not moved. But his eyes were open.

Something was different. A blanket! The flight attendant must have draped it over him. He looked at his watch. Not quite eleven at night, four in the morning out over the Atlantic. He knew the plane had to be nearly halfway between England and the States now.

The man next to him had a blanket too, but it was folded neatly in his lap. The air flow above him was directed on his face, and Judd imagined him sweating in his sleep. He was spread out over that seat, hands at his sides, head back, mouth open. Judd was grateful the man was not snoring.

With his chin on his shoulder, Judd was just inches from the big man. But that was the way with airplanes. Strangers had to sit close to each other. He looked across the aisle to where the drinker seemed to have collapsed onto his tray table. Beyond him the magazine writer, the one who had introduced himself to the old man, sat sleeping with his back straight, his head down, chin on his chest.

Ahead of those two was the elderly couple, the Petersons. Judd couldn’t see the woman. She was small and hidden in her seat. Her husband had tucked a pillow behind him and slept with his head poking out into the aisle. Judd was still barely awake when Hattie came by. She had to avoid the old man as she slipped past. Judd mustered his courage and whispered, “Thanks for the blanket.”

She flashed him a smile. “Oh, you’re welcome, hon,” she said. “My partner, Tony, brought you that. Need anything else?”

He was too tongue-tied to say any more.
He shook his head, turned back to face the big man on his right, and drifted off to sleep again.

Activity behind him nagged Judd to semiconsciousness. How long had he slept this time? It seemed only a few minutes, but it could have been hours. He didn’t want to rouse, didn’t want to open his eyes. He fought to stay asleep. Someone had said something. Another person was up and about. Someone walked by quickly. Surely it wasn’t dawn yet. Sunlight peeking through the window coverings surely would have awakened him.

For a minute Judd heard nothing and was grateful. He brought his watch up to his face and peeked ever so slightly at it. He couldn’t make it out. It seemed nearly the same time as the last time he checked. He took a deep breath, then opened his eyes.

The man next to him must have gone to the bathroom. Why hadn’t Judd felt him get by? Judd’s long legs were stretched under the seat in front of him. No way was that man agile enough to have climbed over him without his knowing. He squinted and stared in the darkness, wondering if he was dreaming.

The flight attended hurried past. No, she more than hurried. She was nearly sprinting up the aisle toward the cockpit. This was no
dream. Judd sat straight up and noticed a few others doing the same. He craned his neck and looked back toward the circular stairway that led to coach class. He heard too much activity for the middle of the night. Someone shrieked and another called out, but he couldn’t make it out.

Just as Hattie reached the cockpit, Judd saw the door open and one of the pilots mosey out. Hattie nearly bowled him over. Judd couldn’t hear them, but it was clear she was upset, maybe scared. Did she know something the pilot didn’t? Was something wrong with the plane? Wouldn’t that be a kick in the teeth, Judd dying in a plane crash on his first night of freedom! His parents would never understand.

Hattie pulled the pilot out of the aisle and into the cooking compartments. Judd was desperate to know what was going on. He heard a noise up there, as if she had fallen. He leaned into the aisle and saw her on her knees, whimpering. The captain seemed to be trying to comfort her, and she held on to him as if scared to death.

Judd suddenly felt very young and very afraid.

Behind him more people were crying out. What was going on? What were they saying? The young man and the drunk across the
aisle were both sound asleep. Judd could no longer see the old man. And the two people in front of Judd must have slid down in their seats too.

The pilot left Hattie in the galley area and stepped out into the aisle, as if studying the seats in first class. Judd pulled off his blanket and tried to catch the captain’s eye, to read something on his face. But it was too dark. And the pilot was distracted.

From the seat ahead of him and to the left, he heard the voice of the old woman. “What in the world?” she said. “Harold?”

Was something wrong with the old man? Judd couldn’t resist standing to look. Everyone else in first class seemed to be sleeping. He unfastened his seat belt and rose to look at the old couple. The woman sat there with her husband’s sweater and dress pants in her hands!

Judd shook his head, trying to clear his mind. What was she doing with her husband’s clothes? And where was he? Obviously, that’s what she was wondering too.

The pilot hurried past before Judd could think how to phrase a question. All he wanted to know was what was going on, but the pilot and certainly the flight attendant didn’t seem to know either. When the pilot
reached the stairs, Mrs. Peterson stood and called out to him. “Sir, my husband—”

Judd saw the pilot put a finger to his lips and whisper, “I know. We’ll find him. I’ll be right back.”

And now here came Hattie. Judd said, “Ma’am?” but she didn’t answer.

She grabbed the pilot by the shoulders from behind. “Should I turn on the cabin lights?” she asked.

“No,” the pilot whispered. “The less people know right now, the better.”

What did that mean? Judd watched the two hurry down the stairs. He turned back to see the old woman talking to the writer behind her. He was dragging his fingers through his long blond hair.

“Trouble, ma’am?” Buck said.

“It’s my Harold,” she said.

“Does he need something?” Buck asked, stretching.

“He’s gone!”

“I’m sorry?”

“He’s disappeared!”

“Well,” Buck said, “I’m sure he slipped off to the washroom while you were sleeping.”

“Would you mind checking for me? And take a blanket.”

“Ma’am?”

“I’m afraid he’s gone off naked. He’s a
religious person, and he’ll be terribly embarrassed.”

Judd still stood, as if glued to the floor in front of his seat. He watched Buck Williams climb over the sleeping drunk in the aisle seat and move up to take a blanket from the old woman. Buck crouched and studied the clothes Mr. Peterson had left in his seat. “Does your husband have epilepsy?”

“No.”

“Sleepwalking?”

“No.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Judd didn’t want to look down into the seats in front of him, and he certainly didn’t want to look to his right where the big man had been. But he forced himself to. Over the backs of the seats ahead of him he saw blankets, pillows, and full sets of clothes. Glasses, jewelry, even a man’s wig lay on his seat.

His heart racing, Judd looked next to him. That neatly folded blanket now lay atop flat trousers that led to empty socks and shoes. On the back of the seat lay the limp, still-buttoned white shirt, the still-knotted tie, and little bits of metal. Judd’s knees were weak. Other passengers woke up and discovered their seatmates missing, their clothes left behind.

Judd leaned close to the big man’s pile of
clothes and turned on the overhead light. He could still smell the man’s cologne. And those tiny bits of metal were dental fillings!

Buck Williams moved past Judd’s seat. “Excuse me,” he said to another passenger. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Who isn’t?” a woman said.

The pilot rushed back toward the cockpit, followed by his flight attendant. She told Buck, “Sir, I need to ask you to return to your seat and fasten your belt.” Hattie turned and gave Judd a look as if she expected the same from him. He sat quickly and refused to look at the clothes his seatmate had left behind.

Buck tried to explain. “I’m looking for—”

“Everybody is looking for someone,” Hattie said. “We hope to have some information for you in a few minutes. Now, please.”

When Hattie passed him, Judd quickly left his seat and ran to the stairway. Halfway down he saw the cabin lights finally come on. All over the plane people held up clothes and gasped or shrieked that someone was missing. Judd walked stiff-legged back to his seat and heard Buck tell Mrs. Peterson, “Apparently many people are missing.” She looked afraid and puzzled.

Judd was afraid too, but he wasn’t puzzled. As the pilot came over the intercom, pleading for people to remain calm, the full reali
zation of what had happened hit Judd. He didn’t know how many other people on the plane had any idea, but he sure did. Christ had come as he promised and raptured his church. Judd lowered his face into his hands and shuddered. It was the worst nightmare imaginable, and he was wide awake. He, and most of the passengers on that plane, had been left behind.

Judd raised his head when Hattie approached again. Her face was red and puffy, and she breathed fast, seeming to fight for control. She stopped in the aisle, right next to him, and put her hand on his seat back to steady herself. Draped over her arm was a sweater-vest with a shirt and tie still in it. The nameplate dangling in front of Judd read “Tony.”

The pilot’s voice came over the intercom and announced that cards would be passed out to determine who and how many were missing. Hattie roused the sleeping drunk on the aisle and asked if any in his party were missing. He drooled, his eyes heavy. “Missing? No. And there’s nobody in this party but me.” He closed his eyes again, and Judd knew he had no idea what had happened.

Later, when the captain announced they were turning around and heading back to Chicago, Judd led the cheering. Home had
never sounded so good. His plan—his crazy, stupid, selfish plan—was out the window now. He would pay his dad back for the money he had already taken with the card, and if it wasn’t too late, he would get right with God. It seemed strange to even think that way, and he suddenly realized that if he was right about what had happened, he would be going home to an empty house.

Judd dropped his head again and felt the tears come. From across the aisle he heard Buck say to the sleeping drunk, “I’m sorry, friend, but you’re going to want to be awake for this.”

The drunk said, “If we’re not crashin’, don’t bother me.”

In spite of their terror, passengers seemed to settle down for the long flight back to Chicago. Judd refused all offers of food and beverage, unable to think of anything but what he might find at home.

As the heavy plane retraced its route across the Atlantic, it retreated from the rising sun. The pilot announced that they were going all the way back to Chicago because most other airports were jammed and closed. He also said to expect chaos on the ground because these disappearances had happened everywhere around the world at the same time.

Judd saw Hattie and Buck talking. She told
him that even more bizarre than the vanishings was the fact that every single little child on the plane had disappeared. Many adults and some teenagers, but
all
the babies. That awakened the sleeping man on the aisle. “What in blazes are you two talking about?” he said.

“We’re about to land in Chicago,” Hattie said. “I’ve got to run.”

“Chicago?”
the man demanded.

“You don’t want to know,” Buck said.

Judd looked out the window as the plane cut through the clouds and offered a view of the Chicago area. Smoke. Fire. Cars off the road and smashed into each other and trees and guardrails. Planes in pieces on the ground. Emergency vehicles, lights flashing, picking their way around the debris.