The Vanishings by Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins Page A

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 sideways 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