The Disappeared (51 page)

‘Yeah,’ Joshua
said falling in next to him. ‘A whole bunch of small ones. And a couple of
really big ones. Like spotlights.’

‘Shit,’ Duggan
said hurrying his pace. He tried to guess what it could mean. None of his
conclusions was good.

They reached
the open door of the lab and entered. Joshua led Duggan to the window where
Lindiwe had first seen the commotion down below. Duggan quickly pulled out his
binoculars and trained them on the scene below. He dropped them and turned to
Joshua. ‘Dude, switch off that flashlight. It’s reflecting off the window.’

‘Shit, sorry
man,’ Joshua said extinguishing the light. Duggan looked again. He inhaled
sharply.

‘What is it?’
Lindiwe asked. Duggan didn’t answer, focused intently on the scene below. ‘Is it
... is it somebody coming to rescue us?’

Duggan pulled
the binoculars from his eyes. He looked at Joshua then Lindiwe. A grim
expression on his face. ‘If they’re coming to rescue us ... then why are they
wearing camouflage and carrying semi-automatic rifles?’ Lindiwe’s hand flew to
her mouth in shock, whimpering, her eyes huge. ‘They’ve come to finish the job.
We’ve gotta get the others out of there. Now!’

The main
incursion unit of Alpha Team 9 gathered at the eastern bridge of Bishop. Two modified
M1114 AFV’s – Armoured Fighting Vehicles – idled loudly. The armoured cars were
equipped with ultra-sophisticated and super sensitive CDE (Chemical Detection
Equipment) like Ion Mobility and Photo-Acoustic Infrared Spectroscopy. The
AFV’s also featured M21 Remote Sensing Chemical Agent Alarms – so sensitive
they could detect a small vapour cloud from a distance of five kilometres. In
front of the armoured cars, four engineers in camouflage hazmat suits fastened
explosives to the struts that secured the heavy barricades. Designed to stop a
tank, the solid steel barricades could only be removed by the focused
application of C4 plastic explosives. The engineers had already detonated one
charge but another was necessary. The entire bridge was bathed in sharp white
light cast by huge spotlights fastened to the roofs of two humvees. Behind the
humvees – glinting in the moonlight – stood an M1A2 Abrams tank. Like the AFV’s
it was also modified with specialised CDE.

The lead
engineer made a sign with his gloved hand. The three subordinate engineers
withdrew to the safety of the armoured cars. Followed shortly by their leader. He
positioned himself behind the Abrams, taking a small remote control device from
a satchel slung from his shoulder. He flicked two switches on the device. Then
flipped a translucent cap on a red button and pressed it. In two explosions,
split-seconds apart, the barricade struts were loosened.

From somewhere
a much bigger man appeared. The platoon leader. His hazmat suit differed
markedly from that of the engineers. It was sturdier and featured heavy elbow
and knee guards. Several electronic devices were fixed to his shoulders. His
head was enclosed in an insulated helmet that featured heavy black goggles and a
built-in gas mask with a tube connected to an oxygen unit on his back. He was
also carrying a modified M-16 Semi-automatic with a scope. Standing tall and
erect, he resembled a paramilitary
Darth Vader
.

The platoon
leader made a rudimentary inspection of the dismantled barricades then
proceeded to the back. Here a platoon of around fifty soldiers attired in matching
uniform and helmets waited silently. Standing to stiff attention. Completely
motionless. Frozen and rigid. The stationary platoon resembled a modern version
of the Chinese terracotta soldiers.

The platoon
leader made a sign. As one man ... the platoon came to life, and moved forward.
Marching in perfect unison. In the sharp glint of the spotlights reflected off
their black-goggled helmets, they looked mechanical and menacing. Soldiers of
the Apocalypse.

They marched
in perfect unison. Towards Bishop.

Minki lay
curled up on the padded cushion of the booth. Her head on Aunty Katya’s lap.

Inside the
restaurant the people of Bishop were restless and agitated. Once again. The
explosion that had brought a sudden break to their quietening mood was now more
than fifteen minutes in the past. And still there were no answers. And no-one
had any idea what had happened. Or what it meant. After having explored the
dark street outside, most had come back inside. And were sitting discussing the
possible source of the disturbance with nervous voices and worried faces.
Others were pacing the interior of the Abbot. Walking here. Stopping there.
Finding no consolation in activity.

When Dora
Cooper discovered that Sergeant Jansen had disappeared, it made not even a dent
in the mood. Everyone was beyond caring. Even Inspector Coetzee.

He was now
standing outside the Abbot’s entrance, discussing the explosion with Thabo
Mohapi. Minki could hear their muted voices drift in on the cool September
wind.

She lay on the
padded bench. Underneath the blanket that Aunty Moira had brought her. And
closed her eyes. She wanted to forget the world around her. She wanted to
forget that her daddy was gone. She wanted to forget her visions and dreams.
But most of all she wanted to forget the nagging clawing certainty that
everyone was going to die.

She pulled the
blanket up to her chin and tried to clear her mind. Begging for some kind of
release to come. She lay on the padded bench and tried to forget.

Soon darkness
closed in around her.

His heart
pumped in his chest. Hot searing breath tore at his lungs. Blood roared in his
ears. But Joshua simply couldn’t slow the pace. As the one leading the frantic
charge down the mountain, his two companions depended upon him to maintain the
momentum. And if what Duggan had said was correct, the others down in Bishop
depended upon him even more. Even if they didn’t know it.

A few minutes
ago, charging down the mountain, they had heard another explosion. There was no
time to waste.

Trees whipped
past him. Branches swatted his face. In the dancing beam of his flashlight, the
world rushed at him. Thank God for the meagre light afforded by the moon.

Behind him,
Joshua heard movement, but he couldn’t be sure. ‘Lindiwe,’ Joshua shouted
without turning around, ‘are you still behind me?’

‘I’m here,
Josh,’ she replied shortly behind him. Her voice was ragged with exhaustion.

‘Duggan!’

‘Right ...
behind ... you,’ Duggan wheezed.

Joshua jumped
sideways, narrowly missing a two-metre tall sapling that would have whipped him
in the face. He ran headlong. Madcap dashing insane. Tearing at the
undergrowth. Ripping at bushes and shrubs. He ran. Frantic dangerous. Towards
the doomed town that lay below.

He wanted to
call Lindi’s name. Tell them both not to fall behind. To keep up. But this time
only a growl escaped his tortured throat.

He jumped over
a bush. Hoping they would see it. Glad that
he
had. When he landed again
there was only empty space. He had misjudged the slope.

He crashed
into the hard earth below. The force of the collision drove the air from his lungs.
And made him see bright exploding stars.

And then he
was tumbling.

Tumbling.
Tumbling.

Down the steep
slope.

Tumbling.

He moved
through semi-darkness. A shadowy figure. In the darkness. Of the darkness.

He moved
through-semi darkness. And cast no shadow.

Jansen moved
slowly. Each step deliberate. And focused. There was no rush. He would find
them. He would find
him
. God had ordained. And he followed. Without
question. Without doubt. Certainty paved his way. He would find him. There was
no rush at all.

The tar
crunched under his feet. The gun glinted in his hand. And God spoke in his
mind.

‘Kill the
disease,’ He said. ‘Kill the disease before it kills you.’ God spoke and he
listened.

He stared up
at the dark slope ahead of him. There was no rush. He would get them on the way
down.

Each step was
measured. Each movement precise. He was progressing towards a perfect destiny.
And no-one could stop him.

‘Kill the
disease,’ God said.

‘Yes, Lord,’
he whispered. ‘Kill the disease.’

He mustn’t
fail. He
couldn’t
fail.

It was the
only way to save Bishop.

Kill the
disease.

Doctor Saul
Tenenbaum was standing in the observation room. Looking down at the monitors.
What held his attention this fine summer’s evening was the monitor that displayed
the patient’s vital signs. The old woman in the specialised Intensive Care Unit
had made a remarkable recovery. Even miraculous. Without exception her vital
signs reflected this incredible recuperation.

Now Doctor
Tenenbaum turned his attention to the monitor that displayed the video feeds. A
few hours before, Tenenbaum had been informed that the patient had awoken for
the first time and was fully conscious. The birds-eye camera showed several
medical technicians tending to the old woman. Carrying out the battery of tests
that Tenenbaum had requested.

Earlier
that day, they had taken her off the respirator. It was a development that
Tenenbaum had thought would never happen. Miraculous indeed.

He scanned
her blood pressure indicators. ‘Strong like an ox. Unbelievable.’

‘Doctor?’
The technician manning the console deck turned to Tenenbaum. ‘Riley has just
signalled that they’re finished.’ The video feed showed a man in scrubs looking
into the CCTV camera. He gave a thumbs-up. Behind him the other medical
technicians were already clearing out. Through the observation window the PVC
dome was a bubble of light in the darkness of the cavernous ward.

‘Okay.
Thanks.’ From the console deck in front of him, Tenenbaum gathered a clipboard
and various papers and documents. He sighed deep gravity. ‘Please inform the IC
unit that I want a couple of minutes alone with the patient. If CentComm wants
me, tell them I’ll phone them back. I want no interruptions. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Tenenbaum
stepped out of the room and into the long corridor that would take him to the
IC ward below. He walked slowly and deliberately, fully aware of the magnitude
of the conversation he was about to have. He looked at the name on the document
attached to his clipboard.

‘I hope you’re
as strong as you look, Estelle van Deventer,’ the doctor said to himself

It was time
for the truth.

The earth was
shaking. The air was alive with a deep menacing rumble. And it was growing
closer.

Inspector Jan
Coetzee – commander of Bishop police station – stood at the door to the Abbot
restaurant, nervously looking out into the darkness. Everybody was up. Some,
like Coetzee, were standing at the door with terrified expressions on their
faces. Others, like the Sacks couple, were clinging to each other in a far
corner.

‘What’s
happening, Jan?’ It was Moira. Scared and panicky. ‘What is it?’

Coetzee cast
Moira a wide-eyed look but said nothing. He stepped out into the darkness. The
sound was growing. Moving closer. He swallowed hard. He knew what it was. From
his military service all those years ago. He knew exactly what it was. Once you
heard it ... you never forgot it again.

The sound of
tank tracks moving across tarmac. Menacing. Robotic. Like a million feeding
insects.

In the
distance, through the trees that masked a bend in the road, he could see it.
Lights. Moving slowly. Inexorably. Ever forward.

They were
coming for them. There would be no rescue.

The lights
moved forward. The sound grew louder.

They were
coming.

Doctor
Tenenbaum stepped through opening in the side of the large PVC dome. Inside
Estelle van Deventer sat in her bed, propped up by a couple of pillows. She
eyed the doctor with interest. Although he had been at her side often, she had
never before laid eyes on him.

‘Good
evening,’ he said, smiling pleasantly and reaching out a hand in greeting. The
grip that she offered was strong. ‘Saul Tenenbaum.’

‘You’re
American,’ she said.

‘Yes, ma’am,
I am,’ Tenenbaum replied nodding and smiling. ‘A proud native of Detroit, Michigan.’
He studied her face. ‘You ever been in the States?’

‘Nobody
wants to answer my questions. What am I doing here? Where’s everybody?’

The doctor
indicated her bed. ‘Do you mind if I sit?’ Estelle van Deventer nodded mutely. ‘Your
name is Estelle van Deventer. Is that correct?’

‘Yes. What
is this place? What am I doing here?’

‘Please,
Mrs van Deventer, I will answer all your questions in due course. I promise.’
Tenenbaum took out a pen from his pocket and flipped a sheet on his clipboard.
He looked at her pensively. ‘Tell me, Mrs van Deventer ... do you remember
anything? Anything at all?’

Estelle van
Deventer sighed deeply, staring at the linen that covered her body. It was a
few moments before she spoke. ‘I remember going to sleep. And ...’ She paused
frowning. ‘And then ... strange figures ... in strange alien suits. I ...’

The doctor
nodded. He placed a hand on hers. ‘Okay. That’s good.’

Estelle van
Deventer suddenly reached out for him, grabbing his hand with both of hers. ‘You
are a doctor, correct?’

‘Yes, I am.’

There was
pleading in her eyes. Urgency in her voice. ‘Please tell me what’s going on. I’m
... I’m scared.’ She lowered her eyes to the floor as if embarrassed at her
confession. Tenenbaum realised how much it took for this formidable woman to
admit that she felt fear. He realised that she hardly ever experienced it. And
never admitted it. He put the clipboard on her bed.

‘Estelle
...’ He took her hand again. ‘May I call you Estelle?’ She nodded. He paused
unsure of how to begin. ‘Something terrible happened.’

Jansen moved
up the gentle slope. Slowly. Gradually. With great care. He gained height. As
the gradient took him up and up. And up. Slowly. There was no rush.

Behind him in
the distance, he heard a low roar. Or was it the rush of blood in his ears.

Red. Flaming
red.

He couldn’t be
sure. He turned to look but saw nothing except darkness.

It didn’t matter
anymore. Nothing. And no-one could stop him now.

He moved
further up the slope. Relentless and unstoppable. Following in the footsteps of
Joshua and Lindiwe and Duggan. He was a bullet that would find its mark.

He paused.
Holding onto a bush for support. He could hear something. Faint and distant.
Yes. He could definitely hear something.

Voices.
Their
voices. He could hear them.

He moved up
the slope. Relentless and unstoppable.

Soon. Very
soon.

‘What do
you mean?’ Estelle van Deventer leaned forward. ‘What does that mean? Something
terrible?’ The old woman tried to get out of her bed. ‘I want to leave.’

Doctor
Tenenbaum gently but firmly pushed her back but she persisted. She looked at
him with reproach. ‘Am I a prisoner here?’

‘No, of
course not, Mrs van Deventer.’

‘Then why
are you keeping me here?’

‘We’re not
keeping
you here ... Estelle.’ The old woman was making his job increasingly difficult.
Tenenbaum used her first name hoping that by connecting with her he could make
her see reason. Make her relax. ‘You are here for your own good. Trust me.’

‘I feel
fine,
doctor
Tenenbaum. I want to leave.’ She was becoming sullen.
Agitated.

By now
Tenenbaum had the old woman by both wrists. He was trying to be gentle but it
was becoming more difficult to do so. ‘You are in no condition to set foot in
the outside world. Not yet. Your body has suffered terrible trauma. For God’s
sake, Estelle, trust me!’

Estelle van
Deventer shook loose from Tenenbaum’s grip. ‘I want to go home. I want to go
back to Bishop. Now!’

Tenenbaum’s
frustration finally boiled over. ‘Even if you wanted to ... you would not be
able to go home, Mrs van Deventer.’

There was a
shocked silence.

‘What? What
do you mean?’ Her face became ashen. Instantly drawn.

‘Mrs van
Deventer ... Estelle ...’ Saul Tenenbaum took a deep breath. ‘You’ve been in a
coma ... under my care ... for almost six months.’

And tumbled.

And tumbled.

Until he came
to a dead stop. Against a tree. At the very edge of the Obsidian woods.

Joshua lay in
a huddle. Bundled into a tight ball of pain. Upside down was inside out. The
sky tasted of dirt. And a tree grew into the moon.

In the
distance he heard Lindiwe and Duggan shout his name, approaching.

And pain
shouted his name. Loud and blaring. Goddamned! Pain!

His bones
ached. His head throbbed. His entire body was one acute declaration of agony.

Joshua wasn’t
sure but he must have tumbled at least ten metres down the slope.