Vanish by Tom Pawlik Page A

stopped at the front, gasping for air.
    “Wait! I don’t want to hurt you. I just—”
    He never finished the sentence.
    Without warning, his back arched and his legs stiffened. A sharp bolt of pain sliced through his torso just as it had before, paralyzing him. He felt himself fall backward onto the grass. The pressure built inside his chest, neck, and jaw, growing so great that he felt he was going to burst. His muscles tightened, frozen up like steel. White light pressed in from the corners of his vision along with what felt like an ice-cold blast of air.
    Then it was gone, passing over him like a wave. The light faded, and the cold, and his vision returned.
    Groaning, he rubbed his eyes. He could just see the outline of someone’s face, silhouetted against the sky. Someone leaning over him. Slowly it came into focus. Eyes, nose, and a mouth.
    Conner opened his mouth but couldn’t speak. All he could do was lie there, moaning and gasping for breath.
     
     
     

Chapter 11
     
     
    HELEN SAT IN HER CAR, staring ahead. Her eyes were red but her face was expressionless. She had searched the streets for nearly an hour, looking and listening for Kyle. Hoping for any sign of him. She had circled the block where he lived and continued in an outward spiral, widening her search.
    The image of her son was seared into her memory. The blisters spreading across his body and his agony. It was as if he was burning alive. The encounter was no hallucination; that much she knew. She had touched him, thrown her arms around him. But what was happening to him? Who was responsible? Why were they torturing him?
    Her mind culled through every possible explanation. Was it some government agency? The military? How had they evacuated the entire city? Was it some sort of bioweapon? A virus unleashed on the general populace? If so, was she infected as well?
    Helen now found herself driving north on a deserted Michigan Avenue, her senses numb in disbelief. She crossed the river and finally stopped in the middle of the Ohio Street intersection. She got out of her car and leaned against it.
    Buildings loomed around her, silent and empty, surrounding her with a canyon of concrete, steel, and glass. But not a soul in sight.
    A sick feeling rose in the pit of her stomach. A growing fear replaced the numbness that had been there earlier. She had to find someone. She had to find some answers. She had called 911 several times on her cell phone, but to no avail. No one answered. She found a public phone and paged through the phone book, dialing every government agency and emergency number she could find. But each time she met with a dead-end recording or no answer at all.
    At length, she fell onto a curbside bench and buried her face in her hands. Her sobs came in convulsions as she thought of Kyle, suffering somewhere out there all alone. Was he even still alive?
    Finally she regained a grip on her senses and went back to her car. She leaned in the door and pressed the horn.
    “Help me!”
    She blared the horn again and screamed.
    “Can anyone hear me?”
    She paused to listen a moment and then repeated it.
    After several more times, she heard something, faint and distant.
    Voices.
    Helen looked around. It
was
voices. But not faint. Not distant. They were merely soft. Quiet. Almost like…
    Whispers.
    She held her breath. The whispering was soft at first, like remote echoes, reverberating off the buildings. She couldn’t tell which direction it was coming from. She spun around and strained to listen, tilting her head.
    One voice whispered off to her left. Another replied to her right.
    Helen peered into the storefront windows and doorways on either side of the street. But no matter which direction she turned, the voice seemed to come from behind her. It was as if someone was watching her. Toying with her. She couldn’t make out any words. Just whispers.
    Fear flowed up like a fountain inside her, flooding her veins with ice. Something wasn’t right.