The Disappearing (5 page)

It's weird, Canary thought as he silently lifted up the window to Tim's bedroom and slipped stealthily inside. No one ever locks their windows in this town.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized that Tim was gone. For the very first time, a stab of panic gripped him, but just for a moment.

He was out the window and racing down the road toward Luke and Rusty's property within seconds . . .

•••••

Tim could not believe they were actually inside the cabin. He and Max had tried every window and even the front door, but everything was locked. This was except for one unlatched window just off the kitchen that was just large enough for them both to climb through.

There was just one large room downstairs with a bathroom and the kitchen off to the side. A small spiral staircase led upstairs to what appeared to be a loft.

They moved closer to the table. Papers were scattered across it. Tim picked one up.

It was a map of some sort, unlike any he'd ever seen before. He had no idea where any of the places on it were.

He put it down and grabbed another paper. It was in some sort of code. He couldn't make it out.

He reached for another paper. It read:

1. Eva

2. Anthony

3. Isabelle

4. Luke

It was a list and the last name on it was very familiar:

5. Tim

He looked at Max, who was already staring right back at him.

“We found their hideout.”

Realizing that his friends could be held somewhere in this cabin and acutely aware that the kidnapper could come back at any moment, Tim quickly ascended the steps two-at-a-time to the loft. It was empty except for a small nightstand with one drawer and a well-worn mattress on the ground.

He eyed the nightstand as Max came up the steps.

“You should have waited for me, bro,” he said in a winded voice. “I found some photos.”

“Max, my name was on the list!” Tim cried out.

“What list?”

“It's a list of all the kids who have disappeared and me.”

Max dropped the pictures he was holding.

“Could one of those detectives be staying here?”

“Why would my name be on it?” Tim called out as he headed for the nightstand. He looked down at the tiny handle that opened the drawer and pulled. There were just two items inside.

Tim pulled out the first. It was a small necklace.

Best Friends Forever

It was Isabelle's.

He peered into the drawer to see what the other item was. It was a woven bracelet—a perfect match to his.

He turned back to Max.

“Let's see if there's a basement.”

•••••

Once back on the property, and being an expert at tracking, it was easy for Canary to deduce that the two sets of footprints he had found led right to the cabin.

He battled through the brush and branches, reaching the outside of the cabin within minutes where he nimbly climbed a very tall tree to get a better view inside. Canary could see the boys clearly now. They were running around inside the cabin. It was obvious they had seen something that had really scared them.

They came right to me, Canary chuckled.

This is going to be easier than I thought.

•••••

There was no basement. But there was a room they hadn't noticed before. The door was closed. Max pushed it open slowly and they both walked inside.

It was too dark to see a thing. Then a light went on. The man with yellow hair was waiting.

“Hello, boys.”

•••••

Nina ran as fast as she could, but it still seemed to take an eternity to reach Emily's house. Once there, she burst in the front door. Inside, the room was full. Her parents, Emily's parents, and several others were in the middle of a conversation. They all turned toward her in surprise.

“It's Tim and Max,” she cried. “They're in danger!”

•••••

They were in a lot of trouble.

The man with the yellow hair had injected something into their arms and Tim could feel himself getting dizzy. Now he was leading them back to the loft.

“Please sit down,” as he motioned to the mattress.

Too late, thought Tim.

It was his last thought before he fell, unconscious, onto the mattress next to Max. Canary grabbed his phone and dialed the number.

“We got him,” he told the person on the other end. “Got another one, too, they're both ready for transport—immediately.”

He kept one eye on the boys as he listened intently to the voice on the phone.

“This was unavoidable,” he responded firmly. “Yes, I understand and I . . . wait, hold a moment.”

Canary stood silent.

He heard something outside.

“Abort!” he yelled into the phone. “Abort!”

Tim lifted his head. He was so groggy.

Canary dropped the phone as he heard the front door kicked open and glass shattering in the back part of the cabin.

Seeing the photos on the floor beneath him, he dropped to his knees and sifted through them haphazardly trying to find it . . . the one of the . . . where was it?

Tim was sitting straight up now, staring at him. Canary crawled over to him, as feet pounded up the stairs toward him.

“Tim!” he called out. “Look at this, please.”

Tim looked groggily over at his friend Max who was still asleep, and then back at the man with the yellow hair.

“Look . . . at what?” he said as he almost lost consciousness again. He was so dizzy.

Canary handed him a photo and Tim tried to focus on it. It was a yellow house, the same yellow house from his dreams.

“This is your house,” the man with yellow hair said. “This is your home . . . on Earth.”

“I came here to rescue you . . . to take you home!”

Suddenly, men with badges were everywhere. They had the stranger down on the ground and handcuffed. Then they dragged him to his feet and down the stairs.

He was able to see that two of the men were running over to him just before he drifted back into darkness.

•••••

“Hey.”

The soft, sweet voice called to him.

“Tim, I'm here and you're safe.”

He opened his eyes slowly and with much effort. They felt heavy as lead.

Nina was there with him.

She was holding his hand, smiling.

He was in a hospital bed, machines beeped around him. His parents were there, too.

“We are so relieved,” his mom said taking his other hand.

His dad nodded and winked.

“You're going to be just fine, son,” he said.

“What about Max?” Tim managed to ask.

“He's doing very good,” his dad answered. “He's already awake and walking around.”

A man with a badge, approached the bed.

“You're a very lucky young man. We have the kidnapper in custody,” he said looking intently at Tim. “But we didn't find the other kids, only some of their belongings. Did you see the others?”

“No,” Tim replied sadly.

“Okay, we're going to let you rest,” said the investigator as he turned to the door. “When you feel better, we'll talk some more.”

Then he was gone.

His mother looked at him and then took his dad's arm, leading him out the door as well.

“Yes, I think rest is exactly what you need,” she said. “Get some sleep.”

Only Nina stayed behind.

“I had to tell them about your plan, Tim. I was so afraid for you.”

Tim looked into her eyes.

“I'm really glad you did,” he managed a small laugh.

He was relieved that he and Max were alive and here, safe, with family and friends.

But his heart ached for the others. There was no way he would ever give up trying to find the missing kids—his friends.

Then he remembered. Something he had forgotten. Something the man with the yellow hair had said—the yellow house . . . his house?

“Nina,” he whispered. “Where is Earth?”

It was a normal day.

The sun was big and bright within a blue sky that was filled with puffy white clouds.

Laughter filled the air as children amused themselves outside the small nursery school. A young girl giggled with delight as the ball she threw bopped a little boy right on his head. Another squealed with joy as his tiny plastic car sailed down a long toy ramp.

As the young teacher kept careful watch over her students, she could see the playground alive with activity—every swing taken and a sandbox full of happy faces.

Ms. Wolpert loved her job at the school. She had gotten it right out of college and considered herself blessed to have a career around children. She loved each and every one of them—and they loved her right back.

“Here, Ms. Wolpert, I made this for you,” said a little girl with big eyes and blonde pigtails.

The teacher took the work of art and carefully studied the picture of a tall woman with dark hair, long eyelashes, and red lips which she could see must be her. Holding her hand was a little girl with golden pigtails—and the word love written in big crayon letters above.

“Oh, Polly, this is a masterpiece,” she cooed as she ran her hand atop Polly's head. “I absolutely love it.”

Polly grinned widely and stood up on her tippy toes to whisper in her teacher's ear.

“You can take it home with you if you want to.”

“I do Polly, I really do! Thank you!”

She knew she wasn't supposed to have favorites—and she didn't. But she hoped that one day she would have a little girl just like Polly.

With her mission accomplished, Polly ran back to join the other kids.

“Another love note?” said Ms. Horne with a smile. “You have become quite popular in your first year here.”

Ms. Horne, who had been at the school for nearly ten years, was a trusted mentor to the young teacher and also a dear friend.

“I'm going to run inside and try to grade a few papers. Think you can handle things out here on your own?” she asked.

“Of course, you go ahead,” Ms. Wolpert replied.

“Thank you so much, and listen, do me a favor, keep an eye on Matthew. He still seems a bit shy around the other kids, and I worry that he's spending too much time alone.”

“Yes, I noticed that, too. I'll check on him now,” said Ms. Wolpert as her eyes scouted the playground for little Matthew.

Just then a shadow passed over the school darkening the yard for a moment. She looked up to see if the beautiful sunny day was about to turn to rain, but there wasn't a cloud in sight.

How strange, she thought. Maybe it was a plane. But it would have to be a large plane—a large, fast plane.

Within minutes she had spotted Matthew. He was under the picnic table by himself.

“Hey, Matt,” she called lightly as she reached for his hand. “Want to play on the swings?”

He eagerly took the pretty teacher's hand and came out from his hiding spot, putting both arms around her in a big hug.

“Oh, sweet little one, why are you all by yourself?” she asked, knowing he probably couldn't tell her as he was barely two years old.

She carried him over to a swing, gently placed him down, and began to push him from behind. Matthew felt safe, and then she began to sing, softly and sweetly, and he felt happy.

“Girls and boys, come out to play,
The moon doth shine as bright as day;
Leave your supper, and leave your sleep,
And come with your playfellows into the street.
Come with a whoop, come with a call,
Come with a good will or not at all.
Up the ladder and down the wall,
A halfpenny roll will serve us all.
You find milk, and I'll find flour,
And we'll have a pudding in half an hour.”

After a while, Ms. Wolpert put him down and led him over to a small group of boys.

“Now you go have fun,” she coaxed.

Recess was almost over, and they had made it through without any rain. Whatever had been in the sky was gone now and nothing but blue skies remained.

She looked at her watch and picked up a whistle—five more minutes, just enough time for Matthew to get to know those boys—but as she looked over, she could see he had already retreated back under the picnic table.

Oh well, she thought, there's always tomorrow.

The kids raced into three lines when she blew the whistle. It was time to go inside for art.

She quickly scanned the lines of children. Where was Polly?

And Matthew?

She looked back at the picnic table where she had just seen him a moment earlier. But he wasn't there. As she surveyed the lines again, she counted at least five children missing.

A slight wave of panic rose from her gut. They had to be hiding. She quickly summoned Mr. Dunkel, the principal, on her walkie-talkie.

He and a few other teachers came outside and together they looked under tables, in trees, behind playground equipment, but the kids were nowhere to be seen.

Ms. Wolpert's eyes widened with fear, and she tried her best to stifle the scream when she realized what had happened.

The kids had vanished.

A small group of children have been distracted by a strange man. Drawn into a secluded corner, out of sight from other adults, the children follow the man out of the schoolyard and into a waiting van.

All but one, a little boy not more than two who decides something doesn't feel right, and he runs. The feeling of dread, of sheer horror, begins to grow. Looking ahead there is a patch of flowers and a yellow house; if he can just get there he'll be safe.

But a rock hidden in the grass is steps away and he trips, landing on his knees. He looks up, sweat dripping onto his lips, unable to catch his breath.

His breathing is so labored, the thought of formulating a word seems impossible—but he tries with all his might and can feel it rising from his gut and rolling out of his mouth in a scream.

“Mom!”

Suddenly, a strong hand grips his shoulder, pulling him up from the ground.

The man is very tall and he manages to scoop the small boy up in one big arm while placing a soft, moist cloth gently over his face with the other arm.

He feels strange.

The intense fear and panic is giving way to a sleepy sense of well-being.

Both arms are around him now, snug, secure—but gentle.

As both suns rose in the sky, a cool breeze slipped through the open bedroom window, waking Tim from the nightmare.

It had been two weeks since he had been home from the hospital after his encounter with the yellow-haired man, the one he heard went by the name Canary.

The school year loomed long without his best friend Luke to share it with. There had been no word about any of the missing. They were just gone.

As he lay in bed, he pondered just going back to sleep. At least then he wouldn't have to deal with the loss. But then again, sleep didn't offer much relief because of the reoccurring nightmare. It had gotten worse over the last few nights. More detailed and terrifying.

Nope, sleep wasn't where he would find comfort. The only thing that would give him peace was finding his friends. And he felt sure that meant finding the place called Earth.