by Mel Odom
Somehow, in the nightmare, Megan found the strength to stop Gerry from sliding. She wouldn’t lose him this time. Bracing herself, she stopped the inexorable pull that inched her over the side of the building. Then, incredibly, she started to pull Gerry back up.
Without warning, the boy’s body split open, the way it might have had Gerry hit the pavement four stories below, and a great snarling beast covered in scales and fur emerged from the lifeless husk. Its triangular head had a low forehead over slitted cat’s eyes above a pointed, edged beak filled with monstrous fangs. The thing was almost as big as she was, a cross between a bobcat, a baboon, and a Gila monster.
The creature snapped at Megan’s head.
Startled, Megan released her hold.
No longer suspended above the ground, the impossible nightmare thing fell. As it plummeted, the creature started laughing. In the next instant, the creature became Chris. The wind ruffled his blond curls as he fell and screamed in fear. She saw his face, his mouth and eyes wide with fear, and she knew there was nothing she could do to prevent—
“No!” Megan’s own hoarse shout woke her. She sat bolt upright in her bed, swaddled in sheets damp with sweat and wearing clothing from last night because she’d laid down certain sleep would never find her. Her heart trip-hammered inside her chest and created a sharp, painful ache. For a moment, she worried that she might be having a heart attack.
Chris!
Pain and anger filled her, bringing stinging tears to her eyes. Her baby was gone, taken by unknown forces. She traced the fresh scabbing that covered the scratches down her arm. It had happened; it was all true.
Resisting the urge to scream, Megan pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She bowed her head and cried as silently as she could.
After the events of last night, after Lieutenant Benbow had finally gotten her released from the provost marshal’s office, she’d returned home. She’d had no place else to go. At least, that was how it had felt last night.
Now the house seemed to echo with her son’s absence. The family pictures on the bedroom wall—a patchwork of memories picturing Goose, Joey, and Megan from all periods in their lives—had served as a touchstone the three of them had used as jumping-off places for “I Remember” stories they had taken turns telling Chris.
Of course, being only five years old and living with a five-yearold’s egocentric view of the world, Chris hadn’t believed any of the stories. Joey’s baby pictures and soccer seasons, Goose’s high school basketball pictures and boot camp photos, Megan’s high school swimming competitions and college graduation—none of those events had really existed for Chris’s. But her youngest son had listened raptly to the tales all of them had woven sometimes separately and sometimes together.
And mixed in with all those photos of other lives were pictures of Chris. She’d had his picture taken every year on his birthday. He stood or sat or sprawled beside the numbers one through five, all of them as big as or bigger than he was.
There would be no number six.
Megan cried as silently as she could for long, hard minutes. Finally, she felt drained and empty, physically unable to cry anymore. Later, she knew, she would cry and grieve again.
She made herself get up from the bed. If she succumbed to the warm embrace of the bedding, she knew she would have nightmares again—wild visions running rampant through her head. She thought only briefly about peeling out of last night’s clothes and taking a shower, but the idea was repugnant. Taking a shower and dressing for the day seemed almost obscene because that would be too normal.
Life wasn’t normal. It wouldn’t be normal again. Leaving her bedroom, she made her way to Joey’s room and peered inside. His bed was made and unoccupied. The last she’d remembered, Joey had been sitting up with the young woman he’d brought home and watching the news channels. He had promised to wake her if there was any news of Goose.
Panic, tapped from some unknown and bottomless reservoir inside Megan, surged again. She stepped into the room. “Joey.”
“He’s not there.”
Megan whirled at the sound of the young woman’s voice and saw her standing in the hallway leading to the living room.
“He’s in Chris’s room,” the young woman said. “I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up just a little while ago and went looking for him.” She hesitated. “I didn’t intend to spend the night, Mrs. Gander. Especially not without asking. It just happened. I called for a cab, but none were running. And I couldn’t ask Joey to take me home. You fell asleep and things last night were just so—so—”
“I know.” The young woman’s obvious discomfort resonated within Megan, drawing out the nurturer that always lurked beneath the surface. “It’s okay.”
Jenny crossed her arms, mirroring Megan’s stance.
Knowing that the crossed arms were a natural defensive posture, Megan opened her own arms. “I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Jenny. Jenny McGrath.”
“Well, Jenny McGrath, it’s good to meet you.” Megan extended her hand.
Jenny took her hand briefly. “I’m sorry about Chris.”
“Yes.” Megan’s voice cracked, and if she hadn’t already been devoid of tears she knew she would have broken down and cried. “So am I.” She blinked her eyes and felt the rough, grainy drag of the lids.
“How do you know Joey?”
“We work together. At the Kettle O’ Fish.”
“I’m surprised he hasn’t mentioned you.”
“He didn’t mention he was seventeen either. Until last night.”
“And you’re—?”
“Twenty-three.” Jenny hurried on. “We’re not dating. We just went out together. Last night. First time.”
“Out?”
“To a dance club.”
The announcement took Megan by surprise. “Joey isn’t old enough to go to a club.”
“He had fake ID.”
Megan took that in. On any other morning while finding all of this out, she would have planned on grounding Joey within an inch of his life. Maybe even until he moved out of the home. But after last night she was going to content herself with knowing he was all right.
Jenny frowned, obviously not happy. “This isn’t coming out very good, is it?”
Megan shook her head. “No. Do you drink coffee?”
“Not really.”
“Cocoa?”
“Sure.”
“Let me check on Joey and I’ll make us some cocoa. We can figure out what we’re going to do next.”
“All right.”
Megan went down the hall and peeked in through the open door. Joey was asleep in Chris’s bed. He was holding Chris’s favorite stuffed bear. The sight broke Megan’s heart all over again.
Oh God, why have You let this happen? Have You forsaken us?
Steeling herself, Megan turned from the door and went into the kitchen.
Small and modest, trimmed in yellow and off-white, the kitchen smelled of spiced apples. Jenny sat at the small round table and looked painfully uncomfortable.
Megan switched on the small TV on the baking rack near the stove, then went to the cupboards and started rummaging through them for baker’s chocolate, salt, and sugar. She put a cup of water and two squares of the chocolate into a small pan and started to heat them.
“I hope you don’t mind if I watch television while we talk,” Megan said.
“No,” Jenny replied.
The television cleared and showed FOX News. The footage currently rolling involved the disappearances that had taken place around the world. Megan already knew that the incidents were international in scope. She’d watched the news in her bedroom till she’d mercifully fallen asleep while waiting to wake from the nightmare she felt she surely had to be trapped in.
“Joey said your husband was over in Turkey,” Jenny said.
“He is,” Megan acknowledged. “Your husband.” Are those Joey’s words or yours? She kne
w Joey felt some alienation from Goose’s affection. Some of it was because of Joey’s age and Goose’s frequent absences, Megan was sure. But sibling rivalry was also a big issue, especially at the age Chris was getting to be. Had been. There will be no number six.
“So far, the Syrian army hasn’t tried to attack Turkey anymore,” Jenny said. “The media is reporting that the Rangers are digging in there. There’s some speculation that they might try to hold the border, but the experts FOX and CNN has had on say that can’t be done.”
“Makes you hope the Syrian military command isn’t watching the news.”
“I know.”
Now that the water and chocolate had melted, Megan added a pinch of salt, three tablespoons of sugar, and three cups of milk. “They haven’t—” when her voice tightened, she concentrated on stirring—“haven’t released the names of any of the dead, have they?”
“No.”
“Well, then we still have hope.” But Megan didn’t know how she was going to tell Goose that Chris was missing. Or how she was going to deal with anything if Goose was one of the casualties of the war that had broken out in the turbulent Middle East.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Bring back my baby, Megan thought immediately. Let me know my husband is all right. She took a deep breath and continued stirring. “Look in the pantry, if you don’t mind.” She pointed the way. “I think there may be some plain bagels in there we can heat up. Even if you’re not hungry, you should eat something.”
Jenny got up, crossed to the pantry, and took down the bagels. She joined Megan at the counter. Megan handed the young woman a knife and she began slicing the bagels in half, leaving them openfaced.
“Microwave or toaster?” Jenny asked.
“I like mine from the toaster,” Megan answered.
“So do I.” Jenny popped the bagels into the oversized toaster. “Do you think we should wake Joey?”
Megan considered the prospect only briefly. “No. Let him sleep.” There was no sense in getting him up for the day before he was ready for it. They had too much tragedy to face. And Megan already felt a little uncomfortable with the young woman in the house without adding her son into the mix.
“Just so you know, Mrs. Gander,” Jenny said, “I had no intention of dating Joey. Even before I found out he had been lying about his age.”
“But you went out with him to this club.”
“As friends. But I don’t think he knew that.”
“Oh.”
Jenny looked at her. “He may not like me much after he gets up this morning, but after I found out your husband was over in Turkey and that you had called Joey to come get Chris—” she took a deep breath—“well, I didn’t want him to be alone.”
“That was very considerate of you.”
“Joey’s a nice guy.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
Jenny waved to her attire. “It’s not that I don’t date nice guys, Mrs. Gander. I just don’t date.”
For a brief moment, Megan saw pain glint in the young woman’s eyes. But the emotion was quickly hidden away, like a person with a long-standing injury would pull away from a casual touch from someone who didn’t know better.
“Your car wasn’t his fault either,” Jenny said. “The driver of the truck that ran into us was one of the people that disappeared last night.”
Only then did Megan remember that the car was a disaster. “I’ll have to call the insurance company.”
“I don’t know if you’ll be able to get through. There are reports all over that the phone lines are messed up. In a lot of places, lines are down due to wrecks, fires, and other kinds of damage. A lot of phone company employees left work after the disappearances happened. Or they disappeared themselves. Nobody wants to go to work today because everything is just so weird.”
“I can understand that.” Now that the hot chocolate had reached the proper frothy state, Megan removed the pan from the stove. She took two cups down from the cupboard and poured hot chocolate into both. “Were you able to get in touch with your family?”
“Not yet.” The toaster popped the four bagel pieces up, and the smell of fresh bread rolled through the kitchen.
“Don’t you need to call?”
Jenny was quiet. “If he wakes up, my dad might be worried.”
Megan placed the hot chocolate on the table, then found a serving plate for the bagels. “You live with your parents.”
“Just my dad. My mom left a long time ago.”
“Oh.” Megan felt immediately awkward. She took butter, cream cheese, and strawberry and blueberry preserves from the refrigerator, placing them on the table as well. “Have you tried the phone again?”
“A lot,” Jenny said. “It won’t be a problem till noon. That’s probably when he’ll get up.” She hesitated. “He’s kind of between jobs right now.”
“It happens.” Megan knew there was more to the story, but she also knew Jenny wasn’t going to say any more until she was ready.
“With my dad, it happens a lot.” A trace of bitterness scored her words.
Megan left the statement alone, sensing that the territory was better left unexplored unless the young woman wanted to go there.
“Let’s eat,” Megan suggested. They sat at the table.
For a moment, with the bitterness coiled in her heart, Megan considered not giving thanks for the meal. But she knew that was wrong. She had to believe that God had a hand in all the confusion that was now filling her life, even with Chris’s disappearance. If she didn’t believe that, there was nothing left for her to believe.
She bowed her head and said a brief prayer. When she reached “Amen,” she was a little surprised to find that Jenny echoed her.
Jenny took one of the bagel halves and spread cream cheese over the open face. “What do you think happened to all of them?”
“Who?” Megan picked up one of the bagels, too, enjoying the feel of the warm, soft bread in her hands as well as the aroma. There had always been something innately relaxing about fresh bread.
“All the people that disappeared,” Jenny answered.
“I don’t know.”
Jenny nodded toward the small television set. Closed captions carried the news stories across the bottom of the screen. “Some of the people they have interviewed feel like the disappearances were caused by some secret weapon of mass destruction. Others feel like aliens kidnapped all the people. But what if those weren’t the answer?”
“Do you have another answer in mind?” Megan caught herself too late and hoped that Jenny hadn’t noticed that she had lapsed into counselor mode.
A troubled frown appeared on Jenny’s face. The expression looked disturbingly comfortable there. “There was a book in the living room that I found. Something about the end times. The pre-Rapture days, before God comes and takes all the believers from the world.”
Megan remembered that the book was one that Bill Townsend had given her to read before he and Goose had left to go over to Turkey. From what Goose had said during that time, Bill had become convinced more than ever that the world was on the eve of being Raptured.
“You read that book?” Megan asked.
“Some of it,” Jenny admitted. “It was interesting and really easy to follow. Have you read it?”
“No,” Megan admitted. There had never seemed to be enough time, what with holding the household down with Goose gone and trying to meet all her commitments as a base counselor.
“If you do, I’d like to hear what you have to say about it.” Jenny pinched a piece of her bagel off and popped it into her mouth. She chewed mechanically and swallowed. “The book really makes you think.”
“About what?” Megan asked.
“About all of this.” Jenny pointed to the television, then made a vague circular motion. “About everybody disappearing. About only their clothes being left behind. About all the kids disappearing.”
“God didn’t have anything to do
with this.” Despite her best intentions to remain neutral during the conversation, Megan heard the coldness in her voice. “God wouldn’t have taken my baby away from me.”
“Not even to protect him from the seven years of death and destruction that are going to follow the Rapture?” Jenny asked the question calmly and quietly.
Megan glanced away from the young woman and looked through the kitchen window into the backyard. The sun was bright and cheerful. The sky was blue. Outside, it looked like a normal day. Except it was a day without Chris in it. She thought furiously, trying to make what Jenny was saying make sense.
“Do you believe in God, Mrs. Gander?” Jenny asked.
“I used to think so,” Megan answered honestly. “But after I was up on that building with Gerry Fletcher, after I had the chance to save him and couldn’t—” She shook her head. “After Chris disappeared, I just don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“I thought about that, too,” Jenny said.
“Did you get any sleep last night?”
“Not much. My head is just too full of stuff right now.” Jenny took a deep breath. “Mrs. Gander, I hope you’ll forgive me, but I think I’m seeing something here that you’re not. Maybe it’s that book, or maybe it’s just that I haven’t gotten much sleep. I think maybe you did save him.”
Megan clamped down on the angry response that welled in her throat.
“When you were up on that rooftop with Gerry Fletcher,” Jenny said, “you caught him. You stopped him from falling.”
“Not for long.”
“No,” Jenny agreed, “but it was long enough that you held on and kept Gerry from hitting the ground before the Rapture occurred. Gerry was taken before he hit the ground.”
The young woman’s words struck home in Megan’s heart with the force of a multiton steel vault slamming shut.
“I’ve never been much of one for God and churches,” Jenny said. “After everything I’ve seen and been through, I really didn’t think He cared much for me.” Tears slid down her face and her lip trembled. “But I’ve seen you and Joey. Both of you are good people. For some reason I was with him last night. If I’d been with someone else, maybe I would have been one of the traffic fatalities that occurred when everyone disappeared. Maybe I would never have read that book. I don’t know.”