The Disappeared (23 page)

More silence. She
didn’t know where to look. Silence.
This was a big mistake.
‘I saw your
poster,’ Lindiwe said wishing she could sink into the cold cement. Why oh why
did she come here?

‘You did?’ The
prisoner frowned deep furrows. Morose and dark. He stared holes into the cement
at his feet. ‘Must have made for good reading?’

Silence.
Leave
now. Leave right now. What are you doing here?

‘Yes, it did.’
Lindiwe’s candour surprised herself. She looked through flaked bars at the
seated prisoner on the cold prison floor. ‘Did you ...?’ She swallowed hard. ‘Did
you really –’

Joshua jumped
up and grabbed the prison bars. ‘Listen, what the hell do you want from me?
Huh? Did you come here to gloat? Or did you come here to see what a murderer
looks like? Is that it? Is that what you want?’ He stared a thousand daggers at
her through the bars. ‘Well I did it. Okay? I did it. I took a gun and I killed
two gooks.’ Lindiwe gasped audibly. ‘Okay? That’s what I did. I killed them.
And guess what? If I had a gun I would take down this whole little shit-ass
town.’

Lindiwe spun
around and walked away, filled with horror. Immediately the prisoner’s tone
changed. ‘Look here. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean –’ Lindiwe disappeared around the
corner. She heard him slam his fists into the dirty bars. ‘Fuck!’

She walked
down the corridor, her face burning hot humiliation and shocked anger. She
quietly opened the door and slipped into the crowded foyer. She stood next to
Minki and took her hand. Moira who had Minki’s other hand gave Lindiwe a
puzzled look.

Inspector
Coetzee was yet again trying to silence the heaving crowd with waving hands and
other ineffectual gestures. Gradually he was succeeding though. ‘People, please
listen to me. Please. Yes, Mr Jones, I will attend to your query in just a
moment. But please, right now I need you all to listen to my words.’ There was
a minor scuffle. ‘One moment, yes. Just one moment, please.’ Coetzee pulled
someone’s hand from around his neck. ‘Okay. As soon as we’ve ascertained the
full extent of the erm ... calamity then we can uh ... make proper plans and
arrangements.’ There was another short outburst of concerned humanity. ‘Yes,
yes, I realise that. But for now ... yes, I know, I know ... OH PLEASE LISTEN
TO ME PEOPLE.’ The outburst had the desired effect and a weary silence
descended upon the group. Coetzee gathered his breath. ‘Okay. Thank you. Okay.’
He sighed deeply. ‘As soon as we know what’s going on, we will let everyone
know. Okay. You have my word as an officer of the South African Police
Services. However ... until such time I want ... I would appreciate it if
everyone can please remain in one place together.’ The fragile silence was
broken by a dozen voices clamouring to be heard. ‘Yes I know. But I must insist
that everybody remain together ... in one place. Okay.’ Coetzee turned to
Moira. ‘Miss Billing, would you be so kind to borrow us your premises? Can we
go there for the meantime?’

Moira nodded
mutely. ‘Of course Inspector. Yes, of course.’

A few of
Bishop’s surviving residents tried to protest but the apathy of fear and
confusion had worn them down.

‘Thank you
very much, Miss Billing. God bless.’ Coetzee began directing people towards the
exit. Moira smiled down at Minki and let go of her hand. She moved with the
crowd, extracting the key to the premises of The Abbot from the pocket of her
thick lumber jacket she had pulled over a flowing lilac dress. Lindiwe followed
behind her gently, goading Minki towards the outside. One or two of the
residents wanted to rebel against the Inspector’s orders but most acquiesced
with quiet passivity. ‘Thank you everyone,’ Coetzee said gently pushing people
along. ‘Good. This is the wise thing to do. In the meantime I am going to
contact the police commissioner personally and get us some assistance from
Johannesburg or Bloemfontein. As soon –’

‘It’s no use,
Inspector. All our communications are down.’ Duggan was standing in the doorway
looking like Armageddon’s messenger. ‘We are completely isolated. And we’re
completely alone.’

All attention
was focused on Duggan. The subdued talk that had fluttered about the room was
now replaced by a rapt silence. ‘We’re completely cut off,’ said Duggan. ‘It’s
not just the phones. It’s everything. The Internet. Cellular. Everything.’
Duggan looked dramatically about the room. ‘Yeah, go ahead Mr Sacks, try that
new Nokia of yours. See how far you get.’ Leslie Sacks looked dumbly at the
slim touch-screen phone in his hand. Duggan turned to Coetzee. ‘And lemme
guess, Inspector, your CB radio system is also down.’ Bridgette Le Roux started
whimpering softly. Dora Cooper put an arm around her. A few of the residents
turned to Coetzee for confirmation but he remained impassive and implacable. Stone-faced.
Lindiwe could see that he was less than impressed with Duggan and his
dramatics. Duggan continued, ‘You see people, we’ve been cut off. Deliberately.’
Bridgette’s whimper turned into a wail. Dora patted her vigorously.

Coetzee
managed to catch Lindiwe’s eye. He motioned for her to take Duggan and get him
the
hell
out of here. Lindiwe acknowledged his instruction. She directed
Minki through the crowd that had now come to a complete standstill. She reached
Duggan just in time. He was about to continue his THE END IS NIGH speech. She
reached out and touched his arm. He was immediately distracted by her presence.
‘Hey Lindi,’ he said, smiling broadly.

‘Everybody
relax,’ Coetzee said throwing Duggan a withering look. ‘Let’s not get ahead of
ourselves. Nothing has been confirmed. Mr Duggan has a very wild ... and
childish imagination. Now please, everybody move towards Mrs Billing’s
restaurant. Now!’ The authority in his voice penetrated the shock and confusion
and slowly the massed group of people began clearing out. Lindiwe steered
Duggan out of the police station with a hand on his elbow. Minki held on
tightly to her other hand. Duggan was jabbering excitedly but Lindiwe could
only make out scattered phrases.

‘Wow ... aint
it great ... it’s like frikking ... awesome shit ...Apocalypse ...’

Too much
noise. Too much on her mind. Just too much. ‘Yes, Dug.’ She tried to smile but
felt tired lips stretch into a ghostly death-mask approximation of joviality. ‘Let’s
just get out of here, okay?’

They pushed
through the narrow doorway. And then she saw Jansen.

Lindiwe
immediately stiffened. She averted her eyes but could feel him looking at her.
She had never liked the tall and lanky man with the dark, dirty pallor about
his skin that always reminded her of poor white people she had seen on the
streets of Johannesburg. There was something violent and unwholesome about him.
Something secret and insincere about his manner. And then there was the way he
always looked at her. A mixture of violent lust and naked hatred. It revolted
her to her very core.

‘Good morning,
Miss van Deventer,’ he said. Lindiwe bristled. He knew her surname wasn’t van
Deventer. Everyone knew it. It was meant as a sly dig at her. A jab at her
origins. She didn’t look at him but could hear the smirk in his voice.

‘Come poppet,’
she said tightening her grip on Minki’s hand. ‘Let’s go to aunty Moira’s
restaurant.’

Duggan was
oblivious to the tension as he continued babbling in barely suppressed
excitement. ‘Man, this is like end of the world shit.’

As they walked
down the road amongst scattered clumps of people, Lindiwe could feel Jansen’s
eyes on her back, burning resentment into her skin. Lizard eyes. Measuring the
weakness and taste of a potential prey. Lindiwe shivered as she thought of his
yellow eyes on her. His dirty fingernails scratching at her skin. Duggan
stopped and looked at her. ‘Hey, girlfriend, you alright?’

Lindiwe
stopped and looked at him. And then. Tears came into her eyes. She let go of
Minki’s hand and hugged Duggan fiercely. ‘Whoa,’ he said throwing up his arms
in mock surprise.

‘Duggan, I’m
so glad you’re still ... you’re still here,’ Lindiwe said hugging tightly. ‘I
never thought I’d say that but ...’

‘Hey, hey,
there’s no need to worry, okay? Now that uncle Duggan’s here, everything’s gonna
be
schweet
and dandy, yo baby.’ Duggan hugged her back with equal
fierceness. He leaned into her neck and smelt her perfume. Felt her pert
breasts press into his body. Felt the divine scallop of the small of her back
as it meandered into the luscious curve of her behind. Lindiwe felt a
stiffening in his pants. She pushed herself away.

‘Hey! Duggan!’
She looked with exaggerated shock at the blushing boy with the sheepish grin.
On any normal day she would have been aghast and maybe even offended. But this
was nothing approaching a normal day. And right now the comfort of the familiar
outweighed everything else. ‘I’m not
that
glad to see you ... pervert.’

Duggan laughed
through the deep red blush that enveloped his pimpled face. ‘Hey, I’m a man.
Not a rock.’

Lindi looked
down at his pants. ‘You sure about that?’ Despite her mild outrage she had to
stifle a smile as she stared at the awkward youth with both hands covering his
growing erection. ‘Duggan, you’re impossible. Half the town is missing and you’re
hoisting –’ Lindiwe looked at Minki next to her and stopped herself.

‘Well, moving
swiftly along,’ Duggan said trying to hide his embarrassment by adopting a
character voice. ‘Shall we deport ourselves towards that fine establishment?’ Lindiwe
smiled at Minki, took her hand and followed behind Duggan. She knew the geeky
youth had wanted her ever since they first met. She had caught him on numerous
occasions eyeing her more sensual physical aspects with wide-eyed boyish lust. Often
he was too eager to touch. And sometimes those touches had lingered just a
little too long. And although she had pretended ignorance ,she had once heard
him masturbate behind the closed door of his room. Lindiwe didn’t need serious
imagination to guess that she was the subject of this and hundreds of other
private
sessions. It took even less imagination to guess that the 24-year old was still
a virgin despite his vehement protests to the contrary. She had brushed off his
awkward advances on a regular basis. It had the potential to become annoying.
Even unpleasant. Most of the time it was just plain amusing. Sometimes even
hilarious. The suave and smooth Duggan had been known to drop priceless and
classic jewels like ‘I’m not like other white guys. I wouldn’t mind getting it
on with a black girl. Or ‘I like black chicks. They’re not sexually shy. Know
what I mean?’ Lindiwe always smiled as she recalled these disastrous attempts
at flirtation.

Yet despite
his seemingly bottomless sex-drive, she had to admit that in the six months
since she had come to Bishop, the gawky Duggan had become one of her closest
friends. And yes. Even a confidant of sorts.

Now as she
followed behind the youth that was apparently completely unaffected by the
events of the last few hours, Lindiwe was genuinely happy that Duggan was one
of the people who

(
had
survived?
)

was still
around. She looked down at Minki and gave her a comforting smile.

‘Lindi?’

‘Yes, poppet.’

‘Do you think
Duggan will let me play a game in his shop?’

‘Oh I’m sure
he will.’ Lindiwe smiled broadly at Minki. ‘Aunty Lindi just has to ask and
Duggan will do
anything
.’ Lindiwe hurried her pace and came abreast of
Duggan. She put on her best oh-baby voice. ‘Duggie, I was wondering –’

Lindiwe was
violently pushed aside. She almost fell over the child whose hand she was
grasping. Someone had inserted themselves between her and Duggan.

Piet Ryneke.

Lindiwe felt
hot ire cook inside her but she held herself back.

‘Duggan,’ he
said sounding out of breath. Lindiwe couldn’t be sure if it was due to exertion
or blind panic. ‘Duggan.’ His face was red and there was a maniacal glint in
his cold grey eyes. His grey moustache twitched and spasmed like a thing alive
on his lips. He had brought Duggan to a standstill and had curled both hands
into the folds of his shirt. ‘Duggan. What’s going on?’ He said, imploring
Duggan as a frightened child would an adult. ‘Do you know what’s happening?’

Duggan, with
big eyes and spreading anxiety on his face, tried in vain to back-peddle from
the frantic older man. Jones had him in an iron grip. ‘Uh ... I don’t know Mr
Ryneke,’ Duggan said. His voice rose an octave by the time the sentence was finished.
He tried to pull Ryneke’s claws from his rumpled shirtfront but was
unsuccessful. ‘I ... I’ve got a few ideas b-b-but I’m not yet sure.’

The
uncertainty in Duggan’s voice only served to heighten Ryneke’s alarm. He pulled
Duggan’s face into his as his eyes bulged huge and grotesque. ‘Are we going to
die? Tell me, for God’s sake.’ A tiny whimper escaped his throat. It was a
noise that was shocking and incongruous and yet a perfect complement to the
wild childish panic on his wrinkled face. ‘Are we going to fucking die?’ Duggan
stared in horror at the man in front of him. Ryneke’s face darkened suddenly. ‘TELL
ME,’ he said screaming into Duggan’s face. It was the hysterical scream of an
old woman, not a man. Almost everybody stopped and stared at the spectacle.
Lindiwe felt Minki’s hand tighten around hers. ‘ARE WE GOING TO DIE? TELL ME,
DUGGAN. ARE WE GOING TO DIE?’ The group who had gathered exchanged worried
glances. Several others who had been walking behind Duggan and Lindiwe now hurried
past the two men, avoiding looking in their direction.

In a fluid
motion Lindiwe extracted her hand from Minki’s and gestured for her to stay
put. She walked up to the entangled men and gently placed her hands on Ryneke’s
shoulders. ‘Mr Ryneke, you have to calm down,’ she said in a soft and almost
motherly voice. If it hadn’t been for her tender manner, Ryneke would have reacted
violently. Instead he turned and with great bewilderment and confusion stared
at her. There was a deep vulnerability in his eyes and to Lindiwe he suddenly
looked twice his age. She moved around him and gently pulled his hands from
Duggan’s shirt. It was as if Ryneke had suddenly woken from a deep sleep. He
stared dumbly at his surroundings and the people who had gathered around them.
He blinked furiously as if trying to wipe what he saw from his vision. ‘You
going to be alright, Mr Ryneke?’ He didn’t reply but stared in dawning
realisation at the people around him. The old Mr Ryneke was returning. Rude.
Calm. Unpleasant. And with it, a deeply humiliated man who now realised what a
pathetic spectacle he had presented to the frightened residents of Bishop. Without
a word. Without looking at either Lindiwe or Duggan, he straightened his
shoulders and walked stiffly towards the restaurant’s doorway. Some of the
people in the crowd stared dumbly after him. Others began moving similarly
towards the restaurant.