“Right,” Shawn said. “Carpathia and Chaim Rosenzweig—that’s the guy who invented the chemical fertilizer that made Israel rich, for those of you who don’t keep up with current events—have postulated that the earth’s natural electromagnetic fields combined with some mysterious or so-far-unexplained atomic ionization left over from atomic-weapons tests in the past and nuclear power plants in the present.”
“Electromagnetism?” Devon scoffed.
Shawn nodded. “Electromagnetism is one of the most prevalent kinds of energy in the world. To a degree, your body is a walking electromagnetic production plant that stays in tune with nature around it. Gives you a constant cause-and-effect relationship with the world.”
A chorus of jibes followed Shawn’s statement and completely embarrassed him.
Pushing his glasses up his nose and looking away from Devon as his cheeks colored, Shawn continued. “Rosenzweig and Carpathia think that only those people with low electromagnetic levels got zapped. Their fields couldn’t stand the sudden discharge of electromagnetism the rest of us never even noticed.”
“Can’t believe you made the cut, Henderson,” Kyle quipped.
“They say young kids and babies have low electromagnetic levels,” Shawn said. “That’s why they vanished.”
“Vanished how?” Tobin Zachary asked. He was quiet and easygoing, a long-distance runner and a writer for the school paper. He wanted to be a journalist or a novelist.
Shawn shrugged. “They really didn’t go into that. I guess those people’s polarities just kind of … came undone. Their atoms got released back into the world and they were … erased.”
The statement took a lot of the levity out of the room. Most of the kids in attendance had lost loved ones. For her part, Megan couldn’t bear the thought of Chris just … evaporating. Like he’d never been. Nausea twisted through her stomach.
He’s not right, Megan told herself. That’s not what happened. Chris is fine. He’s just not here.
“Sorry,” Shawn said quietly into the silence that followed. “Got foot-in-mouth disease.”
Megan looked around the room, knowing that she had lost the kids. She wasn’t at all certain that she knew how to get them back. Their losses were still too real to them, too fresh and too hurtful, and she was not here in an authority capacity. They’d already sensed that.
Juan threw his hands up and stood. “Sorry, Mrs. G, but I’ve had about all the grins and giggles I can stand for the morning. This is all too depressing to me. You don’t have any real answers, and the day outside is just right for some volleyball in the park. Since this morning seminar is voluntary, I think I’m going to just chuck it and say thanks, but no thanks.” He started for the door.
Before he reached it, most of the other teens got up from their chairs and started to follow him.
“No!” Susan January, one of the quietest girls at the post, shoved herself up from her seat. She turned on the other kids like a wounded tiger. “Don’t you see how stupid all of you are being?”
Shocked by Susan’s outburst, the group stopped. Susan was never one to yell at anybody
Tears ran down Susan’s face. Although she was seventeen, she looked twelve years old. She was lanky and cute, and didn’t look as though she would hurt a fly.
“I saw my mother disappear,” Susan said in a ragged voice that was only a step above a whisper. “It was a school night, and we were up late watching a movie. We’d rented a DVD and had intended to watch the movie earlier, but we got tied up doing things around the house.” She stopped, choked by emotion.
Megan hadn’t heard the story. All she knew was that Susan had been present when her mother had disappeared. Susan was one of the few people—and the only one that Megan personally knew—who had actually seen someone vanish. In counseling sessions, private and group, Megan had tried to get the girl to talk about what had happened that night. Susan never had.
“She was sitting there,” Susan said in a tight voice and waving her arm to her side, “sitting there right beside me. We were laughing at the movie, laughing and not even knowing we weren’t going to see each other again.”
The kids stood inside the room. Most of them were uncomfortable because of the raw emotion Susan exuded, but all of them were mesmerized by her story. They’d seen accounts of the phenomenon dozens of times on television, but they’d never heard one in person.
“There was no warning,” Susan whispered hoarsely. “No sound before, during, or after my mom disappeared.” She paused, struggling to go on. “Mom was just … just there. Then she was … gone. We were laughing together; then I heard only myself and saw her empty clothes on the couch where she’d been sitting beside me.”
Some of the girls started to cry. As tough as she presented herself to be, Geri Krauser was the first to reach Susan’s side and throw an arm around the girl’s shoulders.
“It was like I blinked,” Susan went on, her voice dry and harsh. “Mom was there; then I blinked and she wasn’t. It happened that fast.”
“Man, that’s harsh,” Shawn said.
“It was harsh,” Susan said. “Since that time, I’ve been looking for an answer, trying to figure out what happened. Mrs. Gander came here today with an answer that I’d already started thinking about. I go to church. Mom made sure I went to church every Sunday. She read me Bible stories when I was little, and she talked to me about God.” She choked back a sob. “More than that, my mom believed in God. That’s something I couldn’t do. I just doubted. I mean, the whole God thing—” she shook her head—“it’s just too big, you know. Somebody up there watching over you. It was just more than I could handle.”
No one said anything.
“I didn’t believe in God when the Rapture happened,” Susan said.
