The Disappeared (33 page)

‘What is it,
Dugg? I mean, what’s causing all this. A virus?’

‘No, nothing
as glamorous. Biological warfare was never his thing.’ He paused dramatically. ‘Chemical
weapons. That’s what it is. Just plain old chemical weapons. Well, if you can
call chemicals designed to kill people “plain old”’. There was silence in the
room as Lindiwe and Duggan stared at each other. ‘Yeah, that’s pretty much it. That’s
what happened to us. I think.’

Lindiwe had
pulled up her knees to her chin. She stared into the crumpled duvet that
covered Duggan’s bed. After a few moments she looked up at Duggan with
undisguised admiration. She managed a wan smile. ‘You’re amazing, you know
that?’

Duggan blushed
blood red. ‘Well, you know –’

‘Shit!’ Duggan
was startled by Lindiwe’s oath. He rarely ever heard her curse. ‘Duggan!’ She
jumped up. ‘We have to tell the others. Now!’

‘Yes.’ He
looked around in momentary confusion then propped the sheaf of papers back into
the box and picked it up. ‘You’re right.’ They headed for the door.

Lindiwe
suddenly stopped Duggan at the doorway. ‘Wait. There’s just one thing. It doesn’t
explain what happened to everyone. How could they just disappear?’

Duggan looked
at Lindiwe in earnest. There was a long silence. ‘I don’t know. I don’t even
want to think about that.’

‘What do you
mean, Mr Jones?’

An
apprehensive silence clung to the air in the sombre interior of the Abbot
restaurant – Bishop’s finest! Every single eye in the place was fixed
unshakeably on the region’s most successful realtor. The dried blood that caked
his nose and upper lip heightened the tension and the sense of forbidding
drama. Coetzee felt the words he had spoken scrape like sandpaper in his
throat. He suddenly felt more tired and depleted than he had ever in his life
before. Gravity tugged at his face his arms, his entire body. Gravitas sucked
his spirit and his heart into a tight ball of defeat. All he wanted to do was
lie in front of the little altar he had created in his wife’s memory. Curl up
into a foetal ball and just ... fade away.

Jones looked
around the restaurant drinking up the rapt attention that was now focused on
him. Coetzee wasn’t sure but Jones appeared – just like Duggan earlier – to
enjoy being the bearer of bad news. He placed his hands on his hips and flicked
his gray hair dramatically. In a corner of his mind – as yet untouched by doom –
Coetzee wondered where the town’s sudden thespian flair had come from. ‘Well, I
couldn’t just sit around and wait for things to happen. So I took the Jag. I
decided someone needed to erm ... go for help.’ Collie and Jansen looked at
each other. ‘I thought Harrismith was our best option. So I headed for the
eastern bridge. But when I got there ...’ He allowed his words to hang for
dramatic effect.

‘Well, man,
speak up,’ Coetzee said massaging his forehead in irritation.

Mr Jones shot
Coetzee an annoyed look. ‘When I reached the eastern bridge ... I saw it had
been blocked off by some kind of temporary military barricade.’ More than one
person gasped audibly. ‘I recognised it instantly for what it was. I saw that
kind of thing all the time in Angola.’ He looked around at the shocked faces.
Moira had her hand in front of her mouth. Karen Villiers was staring in
wide-eyes disbelief at him. ‘And believe me when I tell you we’re not going
anywhere. Those barricades are solid enough to stop a tank.’ Mrs Sacks began
whimpering softly while Joyce Mohapi cried openly into her husband’s neck.

‘Motherfuckers,’
Collie said under his breath.

‘There was
also barbed wire all over the show. They made damn well sure no-one would be
leaving.’

‘Motherfuckers,’
Collie repeated louder.

‘We’ve been
quarantined,’ Mr Sacks said in disbelief. In response Mrs Sacks burst into
tears, howling like a baby. Most of the women were now either crying or sobbing
quietly. Even Katya Vladislavic was dabbing at her eyes with a hankie. The men
either stared into numb space with vacant eyes or were stirring with the tides
of anger.

‘But what about
West Bridge?’ This was Jansen.

Mr Jones shook
his head. ‘Same thing. Believe me when I tell you ... they made sure we’d be
locked in tight.’

From outside
Bridgette Le Roux and Siobhan Young stepped into the restaurant. They both
stopped when they noted the atmosphere. Fred Young jumped up and led both of
them outside. A few seconds later Bridgette began howling in demented pain. It
was a glaring beacon amidst the stunned silence. Through the open double doors
of the restaurant Coetzee could see Fred instruct his wife to administer an
injection to her. Once again Siobhan led her away to their consultation rooms
that were just a few premises down the street.

‘Mr Jones, are
you sure it was a military barricade?’ Thabo asked while cradling his wife in
his arms.

‘Of course I’m
sure. What do you think I am? Some snot-nosed brat.’

‘That’s
enough,’ Coetzee said from within layers and layers of exhaustion. ‘We don’t
need to turn on each other. We have enough problems.’

‘Well, that’s
for sure,’ Jones said with acerbic sarcasm. ‘All our vehicles have just become
useless. The only way to make our escape now is on foot.’ He looked around as
if expecting a challenge. ‘We are quite literally screwed.’

Coetzee
grabbed a chair and slowly sat down. He was feeling all of the weight of their
situation on him.

‘Inspector.’
It was Mrs Sacks trying to speak through her sobbing. ‘What does it mean? Why
would they do something like that?’

‘What does it
mean?’ Mr Jones turned to Mrs Sacks with obvious contempt on his face. ‘It
means the government isn’t interested in rescuing us. It means they’re leaving
us here to die.’

‘Damn right,’
Collie said slamming his fist into his palm. Mrs Sacks’s crying intensified. Mr
Sacks stared with growing anger at Jones.

‘It means,
dear madam –’

Coetzee stood
up. ‘Sit down, Jones. And shut up. If I hear another word from you I will
arrest you for disturbing the peace.’

‘What?’ Jones
said with indignation. ‘This is not a police state, Inspector. I have a right
to –’

‘Sergeant
Jansen.’ Jansen advanced towards Bishop’s most successful realtor. Grudgingly
Jones sat down. Coetzee turned to Mrs Sacks and spoke in the most tender and
calming tone he could manage under the circumstances. ‘Maureen, right now we
don’t have enough facts to know what any of this means. For all we know, the
barricades were erected to protect us.’

‘That is
absolutely –’ Jones stopped himself when he saw the intensity of the look that
Coetzee gave him. The Inspector himself didn’t believe the barricades had
anything to do with protecting the residents of Bishop. That fairytale had long
since died an irrevocable death. But right now fuelling the fire with the truth
was hardly what was called for.

Coetzee began
speaking. ‘Listen –’

Lindiwe and
Duggan walked in. Some looked at them with dazed recognition while others like
Moira and Joyce smiled in wan greeting. Minki jumped from the cubicle and
trotted towards Lindiwe. She almost ran Lindiwe over, clutching her legs in a
tight embrace.

‘Hey poppet!
Did you miss me?’ Minki nodded vigorously through her tears. Lindi gently
stroked her hair.

‘Where have
you been, Lindi?’ Coetzee fixed her with a reproachful stare. ‘Did I not ask
everyone to stay here?’

‘I’m sorry
Inspector. Duggan wanted to show me something.’ She looked around at the glum
group. ‘Actually ... erm, Duggan has something very important to tell everyone.’
She looked at Duggan. ‘He has a theory about what happened.’ Lindiwe’s words
had an immediate effect. Everyone stirred in muted anticipation while excited
babbling broke out. Some exchanged apprehensive glances.

‘Hey! It’s
more than a theory,’ Duggan said protesting in mock indignation.

‘There’s a new
development you should know about,’ Coetzee said sighing deeply. He told the
newcomers about the barricades.

‘Holy shit,’
Duggan shouted in exclamation. ‘You see. You see. I was right.’

‘Well spill
the beans man,’ Max Theron said. ‘This is not the blooming Eisteddfod.’

Duggan nodded
enthusiastically. ‘Sure thing, dude. Don’t get your panties into a knot.’ He
walked over to a table and plopped the box he was carrying down on its surface.
He threw out the contents. ‘Prepare to have your minds blown away.’

Most of the
men and some of the women like Joyce and Mrs Sacks crowded around Duggan.
Stoffel van Vuuren stood up from his bar stool and promptly fell to the floor.
Moira exclaimed in shock, ran out from behind the counter and helped him back
onto his stool. Coetzee walked over to the group and sat on an adjacent table.
He motioned for Jansen to join the group. Collie had already taken an
enthusiastic position amidst the milling cluster. Lindiwe walked over to Moira
holding Minki by her hand. Coetzee saw her whispering to Moira. She knelt in
front of Minki and asked her something. Coetzee caught the word
hungry
.
Minki looked uncertain but shook her head. Lindiwe led her to the cubicle where
Katya was sitting patiently. She kissed Minki loudly on the cheek made her sit
down and disappeared into the kitchen.

‘Okay! Check
this out,’ Duggan began with dramatic flair. The thespian spirit was definitely
alive and well. And living in Bishop.

Lindiwe
stopped at the entrance to the Abbot’s large kitchen. Normally the spacious
workspace would be a hive of frenzied activity with at least half a dozen staff
members scurrying about to handle the afternoon rush. But now its sombre and
muted emptiness momentarily took her aback. Lindiwe had spent hours in this
very kitchen. Helping Moira on the odd occasion when she was short-staffed. Being
here alone in the awesome silence was eerie. And sad. She walked towards the
large walk-in fridge, shifted the handle and entered its chilled interior.
Everything she needed was here. Loaf of white bread. Tomatoes. Lettuce. Ham. She
grabbed the items and placed them on the centre island. With her foot she
kicked the fridge door shut. From a wooden stand she extracted a large knife.
And began making a sandwich for Joshua. From her position she could hear an
excited babble of voices. Then Inspector Coetzee. Telling everyone to give
Duggan a chance to speak. She felt sorry for the middle-aged policeman. He was
a good man. And an exemplary law-enforcement officer. But he was out of his
league. And yet under the circumstances he was doing a remarkable job. If it
hadn’t been for him there would have been mad red chaos. And worse. She was
unbelievably glad he was here. And in charge. As she cut into the loaf of bread
she sent up a quick prayer for the Inspector. Now Lindiwe could hear Duggan’s
voice as he took his shell-shocked audience through his research. It was the
same lecture he had given her, though with significantly more flair and drama. She
heard individual words like
Cutting Edge.
Lt.
Colonel Meyer
. And
M.I.T.
Lindiwe wondered what their reaction would be. She had an idea it would be
something between dull shock and wearied resignation. How much more could they
take? Before they became raving lunatics ... or even worse. Because there was
something worse than being a raving lunatic. Simply giving up. That was worse.
As far as Lindi was concerned that was far far worse. Or abandoning all hope.
And losing your will to live. That was worse. Far worse. Unlike most of the
people now gathered around Duggan Lindiwe had intimate knowledge of what it
felt like to give up on life and abandon all hope.

That evening
as she stood on the ledge of that Hillbrow building she had been there. In that
dark place where hope was non-existent. And nothing mattered anymore. But
she
had been saved. By a guardian angel in the form of a retired nurse. In the
months that followed, as Linidwe had laboriously clambered her way to healing,
she had made a promise. She had promised herself that she would never go to
that place again. No matter what. She would never give up hope again.

Lindiwe cut
the tomatoes into thin slices just like
gogo
had taught her. She paused
as she thought of the old woman. She felt hot tears well up in her eyes and
roll down her cheeks. At first it was just a trickle. But then she let go. And
the trickle became a torrent of hot wet grief. Deep sobs racked her body as she
cried for
gogo
. For her own mother. For wasted years staring into
desperate bottles. For the loss and madness of life. For all those that had vanished
and for a town that shrivelled up and died overnight. When she finished there
was calm. And acceptance. She returned the food items to the walk-in fridge.
And walked out of the kitchen with the plate. Laden with two sandwiches sliced
into neat diagonal pieces.

In the
restaurant Duggan was still busy explaining his ideas to his audience. Most of
the men and some of the women were still clustered around him. Nearby Inspector
Coetzee looked on with wearied silence. Those that were seated at the tables
were no less entranced by Duggan’s lecture and a sombre silence hung in the air.
Most of the townspeople had vacant faces laced with worry. Only Mr Jones and
Max Theron seemed to be less than impressed with Duggan’s theories. They were
seated at a cubicle apart from the rest and were looking on with obvious
disdain. Every now and then they would whisper to each other. Duggan was
obviously describing his theory in much greater detail and had still not
reached the
piece de resistance.
Somehow Lindiwe was glad she didn’t
have to sit through it again. She walked over to Minki ‘Listen princess, I am
just going to take this to the guy erm ... at the police station. Then I’ll be
right back.’ Minki began protesting. ‘I would take you with me, poppet, but I
don’t think Inspector Coetzee would like you to be there. And personally, I
agree. It’s not the place for a little girl.’ Minki acquiesced reluctantly and
nodded meekly. Lindiwe ruffled her hair and hugged her with her free arm. She
walked over to Moira. ‘Hey girl. How much do I owe you?’