The Disappeared (44 page)

Lindiwe looked
at him with big beautiful eyes that made his heart skip. He smiled at her and
squeezed her hand.

He couldn’t
tell her the thing he feared most. Try as he might Joshua simply couldn’t shake
the feeling that some terrible fate awaited them all. That an awesome and
dreadful inevitability was hurtling towards them. And coupled with this, Josh
felt a paralysing powerlessness. A total inability to prevent this thing that
threatened them. It frustrated him beyond words. He was not used to situations
like this. In his world problems were easily solved with the judicious
application of fists ... or cunning. But here and now he was facing an
insidious and invisible enemy. He knew –

‘Sorry. What
was that?’

‘I said, what’s
wrong? You look troubled.’

Joshua sighed.
‘Yeah, it’s this whole crazy business. I just can’t wrap my mind around it.’

‘I know. It’s
insane. I try not to think about it too much. It’s always been my problem.’ Her
mouth twisted into a crooked smile. ‘I think too much.’

Joshua stopped
and faced her. He used both hands to smooth her furrowed brow. ‘This face is
too precious to frown like that.’

Lindiwe looked
at him tenderly. She traced a finger along his stubbled cheek. ‘You’re
beautiful, you know that Kingsley.’

‘What? This
old prison face?’

Lindiwe
grabbed Joshua and hugged him fiercely. ‘Promise me you’ll never leave me.
Please. Say you’ll always be here.’

Joshua pressed
her body to his. One hand on the small of her back the other on her head. ‘I
promise. I will always be there for you. You will never be alone again. Ever.’

For a few
precious moments they remained like that. Lost in each other. Oblivious to the
broken world around them. Then Lindiwe stirred. ‘We have a curfew, remember?
Let’s get moving.’

‘Yes,’ Joshua
said releasing her.

Lindiwe took
his hand and resumed their brisk pace. ‘It’s just up ahead,’ she said pointing.
A few more steps took them to the premises of the Youngs’ medical practice,
nestled between the Lovisas’ arts and crafts shop and the local branch of First
National Bank. They entered.

Inside, the
waiting room was modern chic. The floor was decked in dark laminated wood. A
low rectangular glass table was surrounded by brightly coloured chairs framed
in zigzag metal. The walls were each painted in a different colour vibrant and
healthy. Against the opposite wall the reception desk made of glass and metal
looked like the console of a space ship.

‘Wow. Nice,’
Joshua said impressed.

‘It is, isn’t
it? The doctors have true style.’ Lindiwe surveyed the room. ‘It’s through
there,’ she said pointing at a door to the left of the reception desk. They
were about to enter when they stopped. And looked at each other perplexed.

Through the
door they heard whispering. Two voices. For a whispered conversation it seemed
terribly loud. But more ominously, the whispering had an incredibly fierce and
almost maniacal quality. ‘Holy shit,’ Joshua said. ‘What are they doing inside
there?’

Lindiwe leaned
against the door. ‘Doctor Young?’ The fierce whispering stopped. Lindiwe and
Joshua looked at each other puzzled. ‘Doctor Young? We’re coming in, okay?’
Lindiwe pushed the door open gingerly. ‘Doctor Young?’ Lindiwe walked in
closely followed by Joshua. They stood inside the examination room shocked into
awed silence.

The room was
empty.

‘Are you sure?
Did you search all the rooms?’

Coetzee,
Lindiwe and Joshua were standing outside the Abbot. After their discovery,
Lindiwe and Joshua had hurried back to the restaurant. They had approached
Coetzee and had discretely asked to speak to him out of earshot of the others.
Upon hearing the news Coetzee was understandably vexed. ‘Yes, Inspector,’
Lindiwe said, ‘we searched everywhere. We even tried the shops next door. But
there was nothing.’

Coetzee looked
over his shoulder at Fred Young inside the restaurant. ‘This is a
blêrrie
disaster. What in God’s name is going on here?’

Lindiwe looked
at Joshua, voicing a silent question in her eyes.
Should she tell the
Inspector?
He sensed her question and nodded. Lindiwe – whispering herself –
told Coetzee about the strange and frenzied whispering they had heard just
before they entered. The blood drained from Coetzee’s face. ‘I don’t
understand. You actually heard them?’

‘Well, we don’t
know if it was them specifically, Inspector. But we definitely heard
someone
.’
The three exchanged worried looks. ‘What does it mean, Inspector Coetzee?’

Coetzee rubbed
his eyes with his knuckles. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what anything means
anymore.’ He looked over his shoulder again at Fred Young. The youthful doctor
had spotted them and with mounting concern on his face was walking in their
direction. ‘Oh my God, what am I going to tell him?’ He turned to Lindiwe. ‘Go
inside. I will handle this.’ Lindiwe nodded and entered the restaurant with
Joshua by her side. They kept their eyes averted as they passed Fred Young.

Joyce Mohapi
stopped Lindiwe, placing a hand on her arm. ‘Where’s Siobhan and Bridgette?’
Lindiwe could feel everyone’s eyes on her. She said nothing. And merely shook
her head. There were several gasps. ‘Oh my God,’ Joyce exclaimed in near tears.
‘Are they gone?’ She looked at her husband worried. ‘Why does everyone keep on
disappearing? They were here only a few minutes ago.’ Lindiwe looked down with
compassion at her distraught friend. But she had nothing to say and merely
shrugged. Joyce turned to the others seated near them. ‘Are none of us safe
anymore?’ She burst into tears. Thabo pulled her towards him and consoled her
while she cried into his neck.

‘It doesn’t
mean anything, Joyce,’ Maureen Sacks said. ‘Maybe they went to the Siobhan’s
house.’ Maureen Sacks didn’t look convinced though. Worry creased her face.

Outside Fred Young
shouted loudly. Everyone turned to look.

‘Poor man,’
Dora Cooper said.

Fred shouted
something inaudible. He broke loose from Coetzee’s grip and ran off. Coetzee
disappeared from view as he tried to chase after Fred Young. He soon
re-appeared out of breath. He stood at the doorway panting. He scanned the
restaurant. ‘Duggan.’ Duggan looked up in surprise at the heaving policeman. ‘Follow
him and make sure he’s okay.’ Duggan jumped up and sprinted through the door.
Coetzee shouted after him. ‘Make sure he gets back here.’ Coetzee sat down at
the nearest table still breathing heavily. He wiped sweat from his brow. There
was a heavy silence in the restaurant.

Outside a
white police van pulled up. Jansen and Collie got out. Collie leaned through
the door. ‘Can we get some help here?’ Thabo and Leslie Sacks got up and went
outside. Joshua followed. A few moments later Jansen and Collie appeared arms
laden with various items of bedding like comforters pillows and sheets. The
three other men soon followed similarly laden.

Moira moved
towards them. She pointed towards a cubicle in the corner. ‘Put it there in the
corner. I want to first sweep the floor. There’s no reason why we should live
like pigs under these circumstances.’ Some of the women murmured in agreement.
The men complied and stashed the heap of bedding in the corner.

Dora Cooper
stood up. ‘Joyce darling, please help me fold these. If it were up to the men
we’d be looking like a group of homeless people.’ Joyce nodded stood up and
began helping Dora neatly fold the items of bedding. Maureen also joined them.

Moira
disappeared into the kitchen and emerged with three brooms. ‘Any volunteers?’
Lindiwe and Katya took a broom each. Minki who had until now been sitting
quietly in the corner stood up and approached Katya. ‘Aunty Katya, can I please
help Lindiwe?’

‘Of course,
dear,’ Katya said and handed the broom to her. She stroked Minki’s head.

‘Well, am I
glad to see that you’re feeling better, poppet,’ Lindiwe said winking at the
little girl.

‘Wow,’ Moira
said, ‘we should have put her in charge a long time ago.’ Minki beamed with the
attention and began awkwardly sweeping. Joshua moved some of the tables around
to help the women sweep better. Thabo helped him and soon the floor had been
swept clean. ‘Well,’ Moira said inspecting their work, ‘give a woman a broom
and she’ll change the world.’ Minki giggled.

‘Aunty Moira’s
a funny old girl, hey Minks?’ Lindiwe asked poking Minki with her broom.

Duggan
appeared at the door out of breath. ‘He’s gone.’ He stood with hands on his
knees panting. ‘I’m sorry I ran as fast as I could.’ He swallowed words trying
to gather his breath. ‘I looked everywhere but I couldn’t find him.’ He looked
at Coetzee. ‘He just disappeared.’

If Duggan
had not been so focused on finding Doctor Fred Young he might have been witness
to a very odd sight indeed.

Very odd.
Indeed.

Moving with
trained stealth. Quietly. Merging seamlessly with the environment. Wordlessly.
They moved. Furtively. Appearing from nowhere. Then disappearing again. They
moved. Quietly. Unnoticed.

Wearing
one-piece camouflage Hazmat suits. They infiltrated the little town. Their
tinted goggles glinted in the sun and gave them an alien appearance.

Ultra-secret.
Their existence known only to a select few. This was what they trained for.
This was why they existed.

They moved.
Quietly. Almost invisible. They were here to observe. To analyse. And to
neutralise.

To remove
all
obstacles.

The world
was not allowed to know what had happened here.

 This was
what they had trained for. And they were very ... very good.

‘From now on
no-one, and I bloody well mean
no-one,
leaves this room without my
permission. Do you all understand that?’

Coetzee tired
as hell was all fire and brimstone nonetheless. Like butterflies pinned to a
board he fixed his audience with a severe look of reproach. ‘If you do not
comply I will be more than happy to make Mr Visser your cellmate.’ Several
people looked over towards the locked office door with its barred gate. Robert
John Visser had been silent for quite some time now. The threat had the desired
effect. No-one wanted to have their freedom curtailed even more by being locked
up in there. The thought of having Visser as a ‘cellmate’ was only slightly
less pleasant. ‘I am sorry, but from this moment onwards I am declaring martial
law.’ Coetzee scanned his captive audience with mute aggression to see if
anyone dared challenge him. ‘If anyone needs to leave, for whatever reason,
then you will move in groups of no less than three people. And I will decide
who leaves and who stays. Is that clear?’ Some of the townspeople uttered quiet
affirmatives. Most simply nodded in mute acquiescence. Coetzee nodded curtly
and walked up to the table where Duggan was seated with the Mohapis.

Josh sat next
to Lindiwe. They were once again parking off at their spot by the bar. Next to
them the old man with the long white beard was still snoring loudly sprawled
out across the counter. Joshua grinned as he watched a tendril of drool leak
into the man’s beard. Moira saw Joshua looking. ‘I suppose I should wake him up
and let him sleep somewhere more comfortably.’

‘Give him a
little while still, Moi,’ Lindiwe said. ‘We’ll wake him when it gets dark.’ She
looked at Stoffel. A brief dagger of longing shot through her. ‘He looks pretty
happy from where I’m sitting.’

Coetzee got up
from Duggan’s table and walked over to his two deputies.

‘Baby?’ Joshua
turned to Lindiwe. ‘Excuse me for a second, okay? I wanna have a little chat
with Duggan.’

‘Hmm, are we
joining the conspiracy now?’ She asked poking him in the ribs. ‘That’s fine, my
angel. I’ll be here when you get back.’ She leaned over kissed him softly on
the cheek.

Instant fire
swept his insides. For a brief second he wanted nothing more than to be with
her somewhere alone. Forever locked in her embrace. He inhaled deeply. Slowly. ‘The
things you do to me, young lady. Wow.’ He squeezed her hand got up and strolled
casually towards Duggan’s group. ‘Mind if I join you?’

Duggan gave
him a casual stare then looked over at the entrance. ‘Knock yourself out.’

Joshua sat
down. He reached out a hand to Thabo. ‘Joshua. Howzit, man.’

Thabo Mohapi
shook his hand. ‘Thabo Mohapi. Pleased to meet you.’

Joshua turned
to Duggan. ‘Listen man, I wanted to say, well done and all. I believe you
practically figured out the whole thing by yourself.’ Joshua gave Duggan a
winning smile. Duggan nodded curtly. ‘I mean, that’s pretty impressive, man.
Big time.’

‘I had help,’ Duggan
said not looking at Joshua.

Joshua smiled
friendly tolerance nonetheless. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be offended
that easily. ‘Listen dude, what do you think is happening with all these people
just disappearing like that. I mean, the doctors ... and that Jones guy. Any
idea?’

‘Whatever it
is, it can’t be good,’ Duggan said noncommittally.

‘Hell yeah.
That’s the understatement of the century, man.’

Duggan’s head
whipped around to see if there was sarcasm in Joshua’s face. But there was
none. He relaxed slightly. ‘Well, it can only be one of two things. Either they’re
running off like that idiot Jones tried to. Or ...’ He left the word hanging. ‘Or,
somebody’s collecting specimen.’

‘Holy shit,
dude. What do you mean by “specimen”?’

‘I don’t know.
All I’m saying is ... someone’s got to be doing this, right? Maybe the
Inspector thinks they ran off ... or they’re hiding. But people don’t just
disappear, yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ Joshua
nodded absently pondering Duggan’s words for a moment. There was silence as
each member of the group lost themselves in thought. Joshua leaned forward and
lowered his voice. ‘Tell me something. What do you know about this Obsidian
place, dude?’

Duggan looked
at Josh with interest. ‘Not much, except for what I told everyone. The man you
wanna speak to is locked up in there,’ he said pointing at the office door.

‘Yeah, I know.
But I don’t think he’s gonna be too co-operative. Especially after being locked
up like a perp.’

‘No, I guess
not.’ Duggan studied Joshua’s face. ‘Why? What do you want to know?’

‘Well, as much
as you can tell me.’

Duggan’s
interest was now thoroughly piqued. ‘You got something in mind?’

‘I sure as
hell do,
compadre
.’ Joshua smiled enigmatically. ‘Sure as hell do.’

‘I want you to
use force if necessary.’

Jansen was
struggling to concentrate. Since waking up that morning he felt himself slip in
and out of a red daze. It was as if a cloudy membrane enfolded his mind. This
was alternated with periods of painfully sharp clarity. As if he could peer
into the heart of an atom ... and see the birth of a star there. But most of
the time his brain was clogged with the red fog. And at its worst he felt a
rising dread. A deepening panic almost. It took all of his strength and focus
not to give in. And be swallowed by the hysteria.

‘Sergeant
Jansen, are you paying attention?’

Jansen shook
the haze from his mind. He nodded. ‘Use force if necessary,’ he said
mechanically.

Jansen and
Collie were huddled around Coetzee. At their commander’s insistence they had
convened an ad hoc meeting outside. Safe from eager ears. Collie stared at
their commander in disbelief.

‘When I said I
declared a state of martial law, I wasn’t joking, gentlemen. I cannot allow
this business to carry on any longer. It’s a
blêrrie
shambles. Mr
Collie, you have a gun?’

Collie
awkwardly pulled out a Vector pistol from a shoulder holster hidden by his
camouflage jacket. ‘Er, yes, Inspector.’ He didn’t tell Coetzee about the other
two guns he had hidden on his person. ‘Do you really think it’s necessary to
use guns on ... on the civilians?’

‘I don’t want 
you to actually use it, Mr Collie, but if it becomes necessary ... I want you
to use the threat of violence.’ Coetzee sighed frowning. ‘I also authorise you to
make arrests when it becomes necessary ... especially you, Eugene.’ Coetzee
looked over his shoulder. ‘Unfortunately we have to save these people from
themselves. At least until we get rescued.’

‘I can’t
believe you still believe we’re going to get rescued by the government,’ Jansen
said. Collie murmured agreement. ‘Who do you think is behind all these
disappearances?’

‘I don’t know
what I believe anymore, Sergeant.’ Coetzee rubbed his eyes. ‘All I know is, for
now, we’re safe. If I believe that we’re under threat from anyone, I will make
the appropriate decisions ... and take the appropriate action. For now, we’re
sticking to the plan. All I ask is that you protect the remaining citizens
under our supervision.’ Coetzee eyed Jansen, waiting to be challenged. ‘I want
you to lock the back door leading into the kitchen and take the key,’ Coetzee
said addressing Jansen. ‘Then I want you two to keep a constant guard at the
front entrance. No-one is allowed to leave. Under my strictest orders. You can
take shifts.’ He looked from Jansen to Collie. ‘Any questions?’ There were
none. ‘Good. Sergeant, please take care of the back door. Collie, I want you to
take the first shift at the entrance.’ And with that Coetzee turned and headed
back inside.

‘Well,
bru
,
let’s do this,’ Collie said enthusiastically.

‘Yeah, let’s
do it,
bru
,’ Jansen said mocking Collie’s tone. He walked inside heading
for the kitchen. On his way inside he caught the prisoner’s eye. He was sitting
with the little computer geek and the black couple. Jansen slowed his pace. He
was almost sure he saw a hint of scorn on the convict’s face.

I want you
to use force if necessary.

The geek made
to turn around but the convict stopped him. Thabo Mohapi did look though.
Jansen was sure they were talking about him. He could see it on their little
fag faces. Jansen stopped dead and watched them. If he listened carefully he
could almost hear their whispered words. And yes. He could almost swear he
heard his own name. They were speaking his name. He was sure of it. He listened,
cocking his ear. The whispers grew louder. They were saying his name. Over and
over. And over. They were plotting to get rid of him. He was sure of it.

I want you
to use force if necessary.

The whispers
were growing even louder. Filling his head. He needed to get away. Jansen eyes
the convict with a murderous stare and quickly crossed the distance to the
kitchen door. He slammed it open and staggered inside. He clung to the centre
island, staring at his distorted reflection in the stainless steel sink. He
forced huge gulps of air into his lungs. Trying desperately to clear his head.

And then. To
his horror. He realised he could still hear the whispers. Growing louder and
louder. And more and more maniacal. It was like several people talking at the
same time inside his head. And they were shouting. In whispers. Jansen fell to
his knees clutching his head in both hands. He wanted to dig fingers into his
brain and scrape out the voices. He felt a scream rise up in him.

And then.
There was total calm.

The whispers
were no longer shrieking. They were soothing. And they were telling him
something. They were helping him.

Jansen’s hands
dropped to his sides. He smiled. The voices were telling him something.

You know
what you have to do.

I want you
to use force if necessary.

‘So what do
you think?’

Duggan was
torn between two extremes. On the one hand he disliked the tall and muscular
youth in front of him with the hair that just wouldn’t quit. The obvious
attraction between him and Lindiwe grated his ass and clawed at his heart.
Every time he saw the intensity of the looks they exchanged, a dark curtain
would descend over his mood.
Shit
. Duggan knew there would never be
anything between him Lindiwe. That much was obvious. But for the last six
months she had been his. Even though it had been on a very superficial level
she had nonetheless been his. During that time he had seen her grow and heal
and become a person again. He had seen her claw her way through the addiction
that nearly killed her. When she had needed a friend to confide in. When she
had needed a shoulder to cry on. He was there. Sure. He knew they would never
be an item. But hell man. She had been
his
. Well, not anymore. Yeah.
That alone gave him enough reason to dislike Joshua. But that wasn’t the only
reason why Duggan found cause to dislike him. If he was honest with himself –
and the last few hours of this day had forced him to become very honest with
himself – then Duggan had to admit there were deeper reasons for his dislike.
It wasn’t Joshua’s tough and rugged demeanour. It wasn’t his obvious good looks
either. Staring at the boy who was six years his junior Duggan realised Joshua
was more of a man than he himself was. And, painfully yes. He had to admit it.
Joshua was in the last year of his teens probably more of a man than Duggan
would ever be. He envied Joshua his natural and easy confidence. His charming
and unaffected manner with people. These were thoughts and observations that
arose in Duggan’s Id. That subterranean vault of the mind that stored
collateral for the fragile Ego. The basement plumbing of the mind. The
storehouse that housed only such thoughts as would cater to self-interest and
self-preservation. But Duggan was by no means a person that gave vent only to
the lower urges and baser expressions of the emotional spectrum. And because of
this there was another part of him that was starting to like the energetic
youth before him. Hence he was torn between two extremes. For one thing. Joshua
was probably the most natural and unpretentious person he had ever met. Duggan
sensed immediately that Joshua harboured no hidden agendas whatsoever. What he
thought was what he said. And what he said was what he did. One had to admire
this uncomplicated ratio between intent and reality. The serpentine labyrinth
of intention of the so-called sophisticated man was completely lacking in him.
It was as refreshing as it was impressive. Duggan had to be honest with
himself. Joshua was a likeable person. And besides all these things. Joshua had
just managed to inspire in Duggan the first rush of exhilaration since he had
discovered they were on the verge of Apocalypse that morning. (C’mon ... life
in a small Free State town will make anyone look forward to Apocalypse). Since
that first rush of excitement Duggan’s mood had swung between anxiety fear and
depression. And now with a few simple words and a daring plan of rebellion,
Joshua had dispelled all of that.

‘So, what do
you think?’ Joshua asked again. He was speaking softly so that only Thabo and
Duggan could hear him. Considering that Coetzee had instituted ‘martial law’ it
wouldn’t be too wise to let his plan leak out. Thabo and Duggan looked at each
other. Duggan could see that this own enthusiasm wasn’t reflected in the face
of the ex-programmer from Johannesburg.

‘I don’t know,
my friend,’ Thabo said. ‘Didn’t you hear what the mad white man said?’ Thabo
was referring to Robert John Visser.

‘He said it’s
a possibility.’ Duggan was barely able to keep his voice down. ‘And in any case,
it didn’t seem to bother
him
too much.’