Vanish (15 page)

At length Helen spoke again. “So… your son? You said he died a few years ago.”

Conner felt his jaw tighten. It really wasn’t any of her business. Still, he had just made her share details from her personal life with him. After a moment, he rubbed his temple. “Yeah. Five years or so.”

Five years, one month, fourteen days.

“And… ?”

Conner took a breath. “He drowned. He was just four, and he couldn’t swim very well yet. He fell into our pool. In the backyard. I… I dove in and pulled him out… but he wasn’t breathing. I called 911, did CPR. But I couldn’t get him breathing again.”

Helen’s eyes lowered. “I can’t imagine how horrible that must have been for you.”

Conner was staring out the window. He suddenly felt numb. “He was just a child. They should’ve been able to revive him. They do it all the time.”

“I’m sorry, Conner.”

Conner shook his head again. “You know, I never knew what it meant to really love someone until my first child was born. Rachel.” He almost managed a smile. “You have this little baby. No personality yet, completely helpless and dependent on you. You give it everything and it can’t pay you back. It can’t even say thank you. But it doesn’t matter. Before you know what hit you, you’re in love. I don’t think there’s any purer form of love than what a parent feels for their child. It’s completely unconditional. You know?”

Helen nodded. “And there’s no worse pain than to lose a child.”

Conner looked at her. “I was angry.”

“What do you mean?”

“I promised myself I wouldn’t go through that again. I wouldn’t let myself get that close to anyone ever again.”

“What about your daughter and wife?”

Conner fell silent for a moment. “Marta dealt with it her way. I dealt with it mine. She found her religion. Started going to church. I focused on my work. I guess I thought if I kept busy, I could make myself forget.”

Helen looked away. “That never really works, does it?”

“We just grew apart after that. We never really connected again. We got divorced a few years later.”

They heard Mitch calling from the bridge. “I see the shoreline! I can see land.”

They hurried out and peered into the mist. Conner could see several silhouetted shapes but didn’t recognize anything.

“It looks like another marina or something,” Mitch said. “I can see other boats.”

They drew steadily closer, and soon Conner recognized the shapes as well. It was a small harbor. He could see several buildings along the shore. But it definitely didn’t look like Chicago. More like the business district of a small town.

Conner felt a wave of relief wash over him, followed by a twinge of fear. It would be good to get off the water, but there was no guarantee those creatures wouldn’t be waiting for them here. In any case, he’d be glad to get off this boat.

He suddenly remembered the dark-haired boy. He had forgotten all about him in the tumult. The kid had gone below to rest last evening. Had he slept through all the excitement of the past several hours? Conner sighed. At least one of them had gotten some rest.

He went below and stopped on the stairs. The bunk was empty. The blanket was balled up and tossed aside. The pillow was on the floor. Conner checked in the tiny lavatory compartment and inside the cabin. His heart raced.

The boy couldn’t have jumped overboard. They would have heard something. Conner’s mind reeled, but he wouldn’t let himself give voice to his fear. Those things couldn’t have taken the boy. He had been safe down below. How could they… ?

No
, he pleaded silently.
Not him! He was just a kid
.

He went back on deck. His eyes were wide, but he didn’t know how to tell the others.

“Conner?” Helen frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Conner shook his head. “The kid’s gone.”

MITCH NAVIGATED INTO the small harbor as Conner and Helen tore the boat apart looking for the mute kid. Mitch shook his head. The lawyer was starting to lose it. He had obviously formed some kind of attachment to the kid. Maybe that was just part of being a father or because Conner’s own son had died or something.

Mitch, on the other hand, felt oddly detached from the whole situation. Sure, he felt bad, but it wasn’t like they could have done anything to prevent it. And it wasn’t like they could do anything about it now.

Besides, he had never really gotten over his suspicion that the kid might be connected to the aliens somehow. The lawyer said he had found him wandering around in a cemetery, which was odd enough. But the kid just seemed a little too familiar with the creatures. Maybe he jumped overboard sometime during the night. There had been a lot of confusion. Anything could have happened.

Several boats were tethered to the dock. A handful of outboard fishing skiffs and an old pontoon boat. Mitch pulled into an open slip and Devon tied them off.

Mitch checked the weapons he had taken from Earl’s Sporting Goods, making sure each one was loaded. He put the three handguns in his backpack and stuck the rifles and two shotguns in a large canvas bag he had found inside the cabin.

Conner was sitting at the table, shaking his head. “He was just a kid.”

Mitch gathered his things. “Look, dude, I’m sorry about the kid, okay? But there’s nothing we can do for him now. We got to take care of ourselves.”

The lawyer’s eyes turned fierce. His face flushed red. He got up and blocked the doorway. “He didn’t even want to get
on
the boat. He tried to warn us. It was
your
idea to go on the lake in the first place!”

Mitch’s fists tightened. “Don’t blame
me
for this!”

Conner didn’t back down. “You nearly got us all killed!”

“Don’t pin that kid’s death on me!” Mitch slammed his fist into the lawyer’s chest, knocking him backward onto the deck.

Conner tumbled into the toolbox next to the engine compartment. He scooped up a wrench from the tray and rolled back to his feet…

And came face to face with the barrel of Mitch’s gun.

“Come on!” Mitch hissed through his teeth. “
Do it
!”

“
Stop it
!” Helen thrust herself between them. “We can’t afford to lose it now! It’s
nobody’s
fault!” She touched Mitch’s hand, and her voice softened. “It’s no one’s fault.”

For a moment Mitch had wanted nothing more than to send a bullet through that lawyer’s smug face. And for that brief instant, he would have. But then he felt Helen’s hand on his. It reminded him of his mother’s gentle touch. She had been the buffer between Mitch and his father. Always the one to defuse their tension.

Now Mitch’s own anger drained from him. Slowly, he lowered his gun.

“Just stay out of my face,” he said.

Conner didn’t say a word. His eyes were glazed over. He dropped the wrench and turned away. He stood at the back of the boat, staring out at the water while the others unloaded their supplies.

Mitch walked up the dock and surveyed the area. It consisted mostly of small stores and cafés. But everything looked dingy and unkempt. Like the whole town had been abandoned weeks ago.

The first thing they needed to do was to figure out where they were. Had they gone north to Wisconsin? south to Indiana? Or had they crossed the lake completely to Michigan?

He spotted a small convenience store with a gas pump. Inside was a public phone with a Yellow Pages underneath. Mitch glanced at the cover. Indiana. That hardly seemed possible. He pulled a state map from the rack next to the cash register, shoved it into his pocket, and went back out.

“We’re somewhere in Indiana,” he announced to Helen and Devon, who were walking up the dock. He looked around and shook his head. “Sheeesh! Talk about a ghost town.”

Helen rubbed her arms. “So what’s the plan now?”

Mitch bit his cheek for a moment. Plan? The original plan hadn’t really changed, as far as he was concerned. They still needed to search for other survivors. Maybe they’d find a larger population of people farther south. Or east. It was anybody’s guess.

“I dunno,” he said finally. “I guess we find some more food and keep moving. Keep looking for… other survivors.”

“Where?”

Mitch rubbed his jaw. “Maybe east? Find out what happened to the East Coast.”

Helen cast a glance back at the boat. “We’re not going to leave him there, are we?”

Mitch shrugged. “You want him along, you go get him. I’m going to find us a ride.” He turned and headed into town.

“Hey, man, I’m comin’ with you,” Devon said.

Conner stood on the deck, staring out at the small harbor. His mind was still a fog of shock and regret. And denial. He kept hoping the boy would pop out of some hidden compartment on the boat and everything would be okay. He rubbed his forehead, going over all the things he could have done differently. Every choice he had made during the last twenty-four hours had been the wrong one.

He recalled the boy’s expression on the dock. He had desperately not wanted to get on the boat. He’d tried to resist, but Conner had picked him up and carried him on board. The kid was tired, so Conner sent him below. It was the safest place on the boat. He should have been safe there.

He should have been safe.

“We’re in Indiana.” Helen’s voice drew him from his thoughts.

Conner looked up. “He didn’t want to get on the boat.”

Helen shook her head. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. I saw those things. How they took Devon’s friend. There’s nothing we could’ve done, even if we had known about it. We can’t stop them.”

“But I
forced
him to get on board.”

“What were you supposed to do? Leave him there? We all thought it was a good idea at the time.”

“I was supposed to watch out for him.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I was supposed to take care of him.”

“Conner.” Helen’s tone was gentle but firm. “Sometimes you can do everything right and bad things still happen. That’s not your fault. It’s just… life.”

“Life?” Conner looked away. He had always thought of himself as stoic. Now he wasn’t so sure. “Not for him.”

“But we need to keep going. Mitch thinks we should head east.”

“Does it really matter?”

“Look.” Helen’s gentle tone was quickly evaporating. “We need each other. You can’t just give up now. There’s got to be an answer out there somewhere. We just need to find it.”

Conner rubbed his eyes. Part of him knew she was right. There might be a time to mourn. But not now. Now they had to get moving. He picked up his bag and climbed onto the dock, casting a glance back at the water.

“Sorry, kid.”

Mitch and Devon walked up the main street away from the marina. There were only a few older cars and a faded blue Ford pickup along the street.

“Man—” Devon shook his head—“it’s like Mayberry. Didn’t anybody drive anything new in this town?”

But Mitch was looking for an SUV or a van, something to carry the four of them and whatever supplies they could find. And preferably something with four-wheel drive. Just in case.

After a few blocks they looked down a wide dead-end street with a few houses along it, ending at a large open field. Devon pointed to an old Jeep Cherokee parked beside the white clapboard house at the end of the street.

Mitch sighed. “I guess it’ll do for now.”

He tried the door handle. It clicked and opened. He rummaged around but couldn’t find any keys. Then he cast a sideways glance at Devon.

“You wouldn’t know how to… ?”

“What?” Devon wrinkled his forehead. “You think just ’cause I’m a black kid from Chicago, I know how to hot-wire a car?”

“A black kid from Chicago with a gun in his pants,” Mitch sneered, nodding at Devon’s forearm. “And I suppose that’s a Cub Scout tattoo.”

Devon looked away. “We usually just steal the keys,” he muttered.

“Nice.” Mitch peered at the house. “I guess I’ll see if anyone’s home.”

The side door was unlocked. Mitch walked in and looked around the cramped kitchen. The shades were drawn. The place smelled of urine. The cabinet doors were either hanging open or missing altogether. Piles of dirty dishes were stacked in the sink, and several food-crusted pans cluttered the stove. Mitch scanned the room for a set of keys.

Devon stepped inside and swore. “Looks like Aunt Bee went on strike.”

“Look for the keys,” Mitch said.

A living room opened off the dining area. The shades were drawn, but the odor was stronger. Mitch was going to open the shades when he heard a voice behind him.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting guests.”

CONNER AND HELEN walked up the main street. There was no sign of Mitch or Devon anywhere.

“I saw them head up this way,” Helen said. “They couldn’t have gotten too far.”

She started to call out for them, but Conner put his hand on her arm.

“Let’s not make too much noise just yet,” he said. He dug through his bag and pulled out the two-way radio. He switched it on, hoping Mitch still had his with him.

“Mitch,” he said. A sudden wave of embarrassment passed over him as he recalled their argument earlier. He may have overreacted, blaming Mitch for the boy’s disappearance. But for his part, Mitch had nearly shot him in the head. He might not be in the mood to talk.

Static hissed through the radio. Conner tried twice more with the same results.

Helen looked at him, her eyes widening. “You don’t think… ?”

Conner shrugged it off. “He probably doesn’t have it turned on.”

He motioned to one of the storefronts along the street—a mom-and-pop grocery store. Inside, they found the shelves nearly empty. Food packaging, wrappers, bottles, and cereal boxes lay strewn through the aisles.

“This isn’t looted,” Conner said. “It looks like someone’s been coming here to eat.”

“You mean there might be others in town?”

“Or there were earlier.” He frowned. “That’s an awful lot of food for just one person.”