The Dead

“Linda?” Gary asked.

“Hey, she’s your mother,” Linda said.

“All right, guys, “ Gary said. “Think we should call the cops?”

“Let’s give her some more time,” Max said. “Wouldn’t we be embarrassed if she came strolling in at one?”

In the end, they gave her till three. Then, worried sick, Gary called the police. The cop asked for a description and said they’d send someone around for more information about eight.

“Eight!” Gary cried. “That’s five hours!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Holland,” the policeman replied. “But we’re having a rough day. First there was the plane crash. Then we started getting a lot of calls just like yours.”

Nervous warmth flooded Gary’s stomach. “Disappearances?”

“Right. And it’s not just Bayside Point. It’s the whole state. Whole rest of the country.”

“But what’s happening? Are they being kidnapped?”

“We don’t know, Mr. Holland,” the cop replied. “Frankly, you’d probably do just as well listening to your radio as talking to us.”

“Okay,” Gary said. “Your man will be over at eight?”

“If nothing else screwy happens.”

Gary hung up and flashed an anxious look at Linda.

“So what’s going on?” she asked.

“People are disappearing,” he answered. “All over the country.”

“They mentioned that on the news this morning, I think,” Max said. “I wasn’t paying much attention. Reports from New York and Washington. A senator was missing. Southern Democrat.”

“Let’s listen to the TV,” Linda said.

They went into the living room and turned the set on. Neither CNNI or II was coming in, so Max left the cable box on WOR-Jack Lord grilling a suspect in a rerun of Hawaii Five-O. It turned out that the murder was committed accidentally in the course of a goldfish robbery.

“A goldfish robbery?” Max growled in amazement and disgust. “I wonder how the guy who wrote that is going to make out at the Last Judgment? Can you imagine confronting the Almighty with something like that on your hands? Hell, I’m surprised God doesn’t smite us all for tolerating those idiots in Hollywood.”

“How do you know he hasn’t?” Linda asked.

“What, and we’re in Hell now? Hell is reruns of Hawaii Five-O? Brrr. Hard to square that with God’s goodness. Too cruel.”

“Isn’t Hell supposed to be cruel?” Gary asked.

“But the punishments are supposed to be proportionate,” Linda said. “You’ve read Dante.”

“I feel like I’ve been living it the past two days,” Gary replied. “Hand me the bottle.”

Wheel of Fortune came on next, but soon got bumped by a story about a reactor being scrammed in Washington State. After a bit of WOR’s coverage, Max started surfing, and lo and behold, the CNN’s were on again, sort of, and he bounced back and forth between them-when the newsreaders weren’t talking about the reactor, they were going on about disappearances and plane crashes. At least ten jets had dropped out of the sky in various parts of North and South America. There was also word that several were missing over the Pacific. Computer failures in major airline terminals were complicating matters. The airlines were considering grounding all traffic.

As for the disappearances, they were being reported all over the Western Hemisphere; some witnesses were claiming to have seen people vanish into thin air.

“Whole world’s just going nuts,” Gary said.

“At least the Western Hemi-” Max began.

“This just in,” said Bernard Shaw. “The wave of air disasters has apparently reached all the way to the orient. First reports indicate-”

A tremendous burst of static cut him off.

Sgt. Hazeltine of the Bayside Point police showed up at eight-thirty, and they told him everything they could. Hardly was he out the door when the phone rang. They’d gotten several staticky calls since dinnertime, from relatives in distant parts saying they wouldn’t be able to make the viewings, or maybe even the funeral, because of the airline shutdowns. Expecting more of the same, Linda went to the phone.

“Hello?” she said.

“That you, Celia?” a man asked, the line crackling. “Took me a while to get through. It’s Buddy.”

“Uncle Buddy,” Linda said. “No, this isn’t Celia. This is Linda, Gary’s wife.”

He laughed. “Hell, I thought you sounded too sexy to be old Pope Celia. Put her on.”

“She’s uh… not here,” she replied, signaling Gary into the kitchen. “Look, I’d better give you to my husband.” She handed Gary the receiver.

“Uncle Buddy?” he asked. “How are you doing?”

“Not so good. I was mighty close to your father. Hell, I’m not ashamed to say I loved the old bastard. It’s been hard, real hard. Uncle Dennis is here with me. Taking it even worse than I am.”

“Are you going to be able to make it tomorrow? Max said you were going to catch the plane from Pittsburgh, but with the airline situation-”

“Hell or high water, we’re going to be there,” Buddy broke in. “I was just calling to confirm. We’re going to drive. Leave tonight, the whole clan.” Buddy paused. “What were you going to explain to me? Linda said something about your mother.”

“Yeah,” Gary said.

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s gone. We don’t know where she is.”

Silence at the other end.

“Like those people on the news?” Buddy asked at last.

“Maybe.”

“It’s happening out here too. Nobody knows what the hell’s going on… You sure she’s missing?”

“Yes.”

“She’s not out gabbing with someone?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“What are you going to do about the funeral?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“Are you going to hold it up?”

“It’s still on, as of now. We’re hoping she’ll turn up.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“We’ll postpone it.”

“I understand. God, this is bad, kid. First your father, now this… Shit.”

“I can hardly believe it myself,” Gary said.

“But look,” Buddy went on. “Is there any way I could find out ahead of time? About the funeral? I don’t want to drive all the way to New Jersey and find out it’s off.”

“Yeah,” Gary said, head buzzing a bit from the Scotch. He and Linda (with a little help from Max) had almost killed the first bottle. He didn’t feel up to snap judgments.

“Still there?” Uncle Buddy asked.

“I’m thinking,” Gary said. “Look, you and Uncle Dennis are your own bosses. Suppose you had to stay here over the weekend? Maybe we could push the funeral back to Saturday or Sunday. If Mom hasn’t shown up by then…”

“I see what you mean. But do you think you can arrange it?”