“Sure,” Mary said indifferently. “Sleazeballs, pluguglies, gorillas, hatchet boys, whatever. I know they're out there. Don't worry, I'll stay out of their way.”
“Make sure you do!” Maria shook her finger in her granddaughter's face. “We don't want any disasters in this household.”
Mary smiled at her grandmother. “I promise I'll be a good girl. Honest. I'll stay of their way.” She grabbed a Pop-Up Bread from the plate. “I don't need to toast this. I'll eat it on the way to school.” She started walking toward the door. “See you this evening. I've got a pom-pom squad practice after school so I'll be home later tonight.” She opened the back door. “Bye.” In a whisk Mary was gone.
Graham stood there staring. His daughter had come and gone like a whiff of smoke. One minute she was there. Then, boom! She was gone. For a fourteen-year-old, Mary moved through the house like she owned the place. Graham wasn't sure weather he like up her presumption or not.
“She's gone,” Maria said and threw up her hands. “By the time they are thirteen, children act like they own the world. I swear, Graham! Your daughter acts like she's going on twenty-five.”
“She's a good girl, Mother. That's what gives me some peace of mind. Mary is popular at school—she has lots of good friends. I trust her to do the right thing. She'll be fine.”
“I don't know.” Maria kept shaking her head. “She can be dad-gummed belligerent, hard headed sometimes. I simply don't know.”
“We named her after you. How could she be any other way?” Graham smiled impishly.
Maria kept muttering to herself, arranging and rearranging the dishes lined up on the cabinet. “I wonder how Matthew is doing this morning off at that big university. You know Northwestern is terribly large for such a young boy as he is—and a freshman at that.”
“Our son is fine,” Graham said. “Matt's always been a good boy.”
“I know, I know,” Maria said more to herself. “I simply wish they had more religion in ‘em.”
“What are you going to do today, Mother?”
Maria swished her cheek to one side and scratched her chin. “Well, I told Jackie I would straighten up your garage. I'm actually thinking about painting the walls out there in that no man's land. Heaven knows the place needs a real workin' over. George told me he'd help.”
“That's good. George needs to put in more time around the house doing something worthwhile.”
“He's only eight years old, Graham, but he'll be a real help.”
“Sure. And not having that five-year-old brother hanging around will help.”
Maria shook her finger at him. “Jeff is a very bright boy. He may only be five, but he's got the brains of a child twice his age. Don't ever count him out.”
“Certainly.” Graham slipped his suit coat on. “Jackie won't be down for a while. I'll drive my two-seater to the Metro Urban Express station. I filled it up with hydrogen night before last. She can use the gasoline car.”
“Now you be careful, son. Remember all those things you told Mary.”
Graham laughed. “Keep worrying about me, Mom. It helps.” He kissed her on the cheek and closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER 3
THE RIDE from Arlington Heights to downtown Chicago had changed since the installation of the Metro Urban Express lines. Of course, transportation in all of the big cities had altered radically in the last fifteen years since petroleum supplies had become even tighter. The train's comfortable seat and speed through the suburbs fit Graham's style. The train's breakneck speed fit him like a tailored suit. He had always been a quick moving, decisive person who could make any office hop. The employees straightened up when he came into the office. One of the reasons Graham had risen to the lofty position of assistant to the mayor had been his ability to make instant decisions that turned out to be correct.
The Metro Urban train cruised at such a high rate of speed that travel time was minimized. The inner city had turned into a place of startling contrasts. Plush stores remained as exotic as ever; but the tenement areas were frightening places to visit, much less live in. Poverty had produced children who lived like animals. Anyone could be attacked on the streets by young punks and never know what hit them.
Graham didn't worry much about those possibilities. He carried in his pocket a personal alarm button that the city provided for all their top-level employees. One punch of the button and the nearest police officers would be alerted to come with their guns drawn. At most, he would be exposed to attack for only a matter of a minute or so. Graham stuck his hand in his pants pocket to make sure the quarter-sized button was there.
Like every other city in America, Chicago had grown enormously in the last twenty years, stretching its housing areas toward Peoria and Urbana as well as Freeport and Rock Falls. If anyone wanted to avoid the urban beasts that roamed the streets at night in search of drugs, it was necessary to keep moving toward those outlying areas. Unfortunately, all of the farming land had been devoured by housing developments.
Peck leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to tune out the noise of the packed car. No matter where he and Jackie turned, multitudes of people milled around. Even the poor restaurants had long queues. Periodically Graham got tired of feeling like a piece of sand on an endless beach. There almost wasn't any place left where countless numbers of citizens didn't flow back and forth like creatures bobbing around meaninglessly in the surf.
And then he thought about all those people who had simply disappeared. Graham didn't know any of them except for a minor employee in his office, and he virtually didn't know that man. In an instant, millions had simply disappeared. Poof! Gone! And no one knew where.
The unknown was what bothered him the most. Graham's style dictated grabbing a problem by the back of the neck and shaking it until change followed. Not on this one! Researchers had not been able to turn up anyone who seemed to have any idea about what had become of that multitude. Graham had worked with millions of Chicagoans who came and went every day. The idea such a huge number could disappear without a trace simply left him speechless. The best he could do right now was to dismiss the entire idea.
Graham patted his neck and made sure his sweater was in place. No one wore a tie anymore and graham liked the change. Sweaters were infinitely more comfortable. Of course, comfort was the word these days. Everyone dressed for ease. Even the mayor appeared on television occasionally wearing blue jeans that made him look even younger. Graham didn't like Bridges's extremely casual appearance in those television shots, but the voters did and that was all that counted.
The train slowed and graham reached for the small computer case he carried with him wherever he went. In a matter of seconds he could turn on the machine, flash a holograph keyboard on any surface and type out what he wanted to remember or send to someone. The pocket computer made his job with the mayor easier to handle. He needed the help.
The campaign to reelect Frank Bridges had flip-flopped the city's regular offices from “Administrative Staff” painted on the door to “Election Campaign.” Graham kept a foot in both worlds, both working for the mayor and being a major player in the hoopla to win reelection. The task was demanding.
Within minutes of leaving Arlington Heights, the train pulled into his station and Graham joined the multitudes pouring out for work in the downtown area. He pushed his way through the turnstiles and hurried up the street. When he reached the office, the scene was exactly as he had anticipated. As he worked his way through the hubbub of secretaries and assistants, silence fell over the employees. At the back he found his usually quiet office.
“Good morning, Sarah,” Graham said briskly to the secretary in front of his office.
“Oh, good morning, Graham,” Mrs. Cates answered. “You're looking sharp this morning.”
“Bad lighting,” he quipped.
“You're always funny.”
“Comes with the trade.”
Graham shut the door behind him
and sat down at his desk. Momentary solitude surrounded him with the luxury of quietness that few enjoyed. He took a deep breath and looked out the tenth-floor office window across the city toward Lake Michigan. The changing of the trees' colors always imparted a sense of well-being. Like the lake, the scenery flashed beauty in every direction. He had to put the picture behind him. It was time to get tough. The mayor expected him to crack the whip and Graham knew how. He took a deep breath, and mentally put his armor on.
The phone rang.
“Peck here.”
“Graham, this is Frank Bridges. Can you get down to my office in one minute.”
“Certainly. It will take me less than sixty seconds.”
“Good. We've got a big problem. It needs your touch.” Bridges hung up.
Graham stood up. Maybe more people had disappeared. The daily riot had started again.
CHAPTER 4
AS USUAL, Graham Peck had already been hard at work at his office for an hour before the family awoke. George Peck opened his eyes slowly and stared at the white ceiling far above him. A now forgotten dream had left him frightened and unsettled. He stirred uncomfortably in his bed. The noises downstairs told him that the rest of the family had already started their day. As always, his father had left for work more than an hour ago and his sister Mary was probably gone before his father left the house. Only his five-year-old brother Jeff would still be asleep across the room from George's bed. He turned the thick blanket back, but didn't get out of bed. His heart kept pounding. George lay there, thinking about how strange everything in his world had become.
His parents had warned him and Jeff about going outside alone. No longer could he wander the neighborhood like he had done for all of his eight years. Everyone was tense, frightened, weird, and George didn't like it, but he was too young to do anything about the problem except gripe. He simply had to accept what he was told to do or find himself in deeper trouble.
Things were like that at school, too. The teachers kept huddling together outside their classrooms, whispering all the time, and watching with raised eyebrows as if any moment someone was about to do something spooky. Even the principal Mrs. Hammond acted defensive. She stood around the halls with her arms crossed over her chest as if she were running a state prison. Guards were posted on the playground during recess, and they sniffed around like police dogs, making the children run from them. Everyone felt tense, and nervous; although they wouldn't say so out loud, they were scared.
Even last night had been difficult. A red cast overshadowed the moon, leaving it shimmering in a strange crimson glow that sent a disconcerting facade over the entire city. Earlier in the day fierce winds blew a pounding hailstorm across Chicago, hiding the sun and battering roofs and cars. Weather forecasters warned the children to stay inside in case the pounding started again. George had never seen anything like the sight of huge hailstones pounding on the roof, and it only added to his apprehension.
“George?” a small voice said from across the room. “Are you awake?”
“Yeah.”
“You getting up?” Jeff asked.
“In a minute.”
“Okay.” Jeff rolled over and closed his eyes again. “I'll sleep a while longer.” He turned back over. “Is it still hailing?”
“No. Go back to sleep.”
Living at the end of Crown Point Street in the Chicago suburbs of Arlington Heights, George and Jeff Peck knew the local neighborhood like the backs of their hands. They always thought there was nothing to be afraid of out there. Even with their older brother Matt off to college, the two youngest boys in the family weren't to be restrained from their usual jaunts up the street and around the block. But last night elongated shadows from the tall poplars lined the streets with strange interlacing shapes, looking like long pointed spears or jagged swords, and changed the peaceful neighborhood's appearance into a web of intrigue. Few door lights were turned on. The affluent neighborhood felt more like a city jungle.
The strange sights deeply bothered George. Everything had changed when all of those people disappeared. No one had ever fully explained to him what had occurred and the entire event left him unnerved. The night before, Mary had tried to explain it to them, but the conversation hadn't gone very well. Of course, part of the reason was that Mary always treated him and Jeff like they were nuisances. She had caught them in the street a half-block away.
“You think you're big time,” George had challenged his sister. “’Cause you're fourteen doesn't make you better than us.”
“Better than you?” Mary had sneered. “Always and forever.” She always managed the best put-downs any young teenager could muster.
“We're scared!” Jeff had blurted out, interrupting the argument.
“No, We're not,” George had said. “Don't listen to short stuff. He doesn't know anything.”
“It scares me that all those people are gone,” Jeff had said and shivered. “Boom! Up in smoke. Disappeared!”
“I understand.” The condescending tone in Mary's voice disappeared and she shook her head. “You boys be careful,” she said more thoughtfully. “Nobody knows what's going on anymore and it's not a good time to be out here in the street running around alone even if it is Halloween eve.”
“What do you think did happen to all those people?” George had asked his sister in a more respectful manner.
“I don't know,” Mary said. “A girl at school said they all migrated to some South American country to live on a big farm. Other people think it has something to do with religion. I don't know.”
“South America?” George protested. “Listen. Millions of people disappeared in an instant. South America wouldn't hold 'em all. You know that church down at the end of the housing area? Near Monroe School?”
Mary shook her head.
“That old building with a steeple is still locked tighter than a bank. Maybe there's something religious behind all of this?”
“Nope,” Mary said soberly. “I don't know what to say. I don't know anyone who does. The whole thing is too gosh awful scary.”
“Yeah,” Jeff said in that little boy voice of his that could sound so vulnerable.
“Look. Mom sent me out here to tell you boys to come home. She doesn't want you roaming the streets by yourself. You can't tell what will happen next.”
“Yeah,” Jeff had said again in a complaint tone that always irritated George.
“Don't be telling us what to do!” George protested.
“Listen. You little squeak, don't throw lip at me.” Mary marched toward him like she would slap him.
George took off running for the house to get out of her way. At the least, she wouldn't get a crack at him, but that also ended the conversation.
Now George regretted that he had been so aggressive. He should have listened betted. Mary might have told him more about the disappearance of all of those people, but she always tried to push him around and that created fights. Still he should have simply listened and not been so belligerent. That's what Mother always told him. Be quiet and listen. Well, he should have listened better.
Jeff sat up in bed and threw the covers back. “I'm going to get up now,” he said. “I've got to go to school today.”
George started to correct him and say “preschool,” but he didn't. Jeff was a very bright boy and Mon Dad had placed him in a special school that allowed Jeff to work at his own level. He was already reading books far ahead of regular first graders. George didn't feel any competition with Jeff. He simply recognized that his little brother was gifted.
George's problem was he couldn't stop thinking about all of those people who had vanished. Two boys in his class at school had disappeared just as if they simply had walked out for a vacation. Their entire families were gone, leaving behind their houses and everything in them. Although he'd never been in any of those homes, people said even the dishes had been left on the table like they were eating supper and simply got up and left. one of the neighbors reported it
looked like they would come back any minute and finish eating… but they never did. Some people said there was an explanation in the Bible but he had never seen it.
“You boys get down here right now,” Grandmother Maria called up from the kitchen. “You need to eat your breakfast. Hurry up. Get a wiggle on.”
“Okay, okay.” George got out of bed and reached for the bathrobe lying across the end of his bed. “I'm coming.” The truth was he needed to hurry, but he still felt apprehensive about all those people who disappeared.
CHAPTER 5
TEN MINUTES LATER Jackie peck stood in the doorway opening into the kitchen and watched her boys eating. For a moment she observed the breakfast scene without saying anything. George's ruffled, toast-colored hair nearly hung down into his brown eyes. George's face looked a great deal like hers, oblong and angular. Little Jeff's face was much rounder with puffy fat in his cheeks. His hair was lighter than George's and he had blue eyes. George and Jeff looked like two innocent little children without a care in the world. But their mother knew that was anything but true.
Jackie caught a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror. For a thirty-nine-year-old mother of four children, she had kept her figure well, but she did look tired. Well, who wouldn't? Worrying about her son off at college and these two hellions would exhaust anyone, not to mention trying to keep her fourteen-year-old daughter walking a straight line. Jackie looked again. Her brunette hair still had a luster people admired and there weren't many wrinkles under her brown eyes. Maybe she was looking better that she felt.
George and Jeff were bright children, but Jeff was exceptionally intelligent. Sometimes he sounded almost like an adult and he had a phenomenal memory. They were capable of making up their own minds about almost everything and that worried Jackie. you had to keep a sharp eye on such talented boys.
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