Tom stared at his hand and debated whether to call spades trump or pass. He had the right bower, the king and a nine of spades, plus an ace of diamonds. He was also two-suited. Frank, to Tom’s left, had dealt and would probably call trump if he didn’t-and the way his luck had been going in this game, Frank probably had a loner in hearts or diamonds. The last thing they needed was to give their opponents a possible four points and lose the game.
He peered across the table at Peg, who obviously didn’t have squat. His euchre partner and wife of eight years always wore her cards on her sleeve. Funny how he was the only one who ever seemed to notice that.
Frank’s wife, Julie, had hesitated a moment before passing. Could be a bluff, but Tom doubted it. She could be holding the left bower for all he knew-or at least a decent stopper hand along with her husband.
Screw it, he thought. He was not feeling lucky at all today.
“Pass.”
The moment he looked over and saw Frank’s smug grin, Tom knew they were screwed. He literally wanted to bust him in the jaw for a split second.
“I’ve got a loner in hearts-a frigging lay-down loner in hearts!” Frank declared triumphantly.
Tom watched in horror and awe as Frank splayed his cards on the table for all to see: a jack of hearts, a jack of diamonds, an ace and king of hearts and an ace of clubs.
“I believe we just won the game,” Frank added, not missing a beat.
Tom groaned, “Screw this! I knew I should have called spades!”
“Then why didn’t you?” Julie asked.
“Because I’m an idiot.”
“No comment,” Peg said.
“Oh well, it’s just a game,” Tom said, with more than a trace of cynicism.
Just then, Kelli entered the room and tugged at Tom’s sleeve. “Daddy, can you please tell Tyler to quit pulling my hair. He’s acting like a little shit again!”
Tom tried his best to keep a straight face as he reprimanded his five-year-old daughter, but he didn’t have much luck.
“Now you watch your mouth, young lady. Your little brother is not a little-what you just said. And if I hear you swear again like that, I’ll take your toys away from you for a whole day!”
“Oh, Daddy, you will not! And if you can call him a little shit, why can’t I? What’s the difference?”
“The difference is,” Peg said, “That your father needs to watch his mouth around his kids, that’s what. Now don’t let me hear you swear like that again Kelli or I will take your toys away for a week! Now go tell Tyler to come in here right this instant.”
“Okay, Mommy,” her daughter replied with a frown.
Kelli left the family room and Peg’s eyes burned into Tom’s like hot pokers.
“You have got to quit cursing around the children, Tom! My having to endure that sewer mouth of yours is one thing but I will not let your affliction be passed on to my children!”
“Sorry, dear,” Tom replied. “I’m working on it-honest! Kelli must have heard me call Tyler that under my breath earlier today after I saw what he’d done to my iPod headphones. Neither of the kids were in the room when I said it-Kelli must have been eavesdropping.”
“Yeah, right.”
Tyler came into the room, his head hung down forlornly.
“Do not pull your sister’s hair again, Tyler.” Peg said.
“I won’t, Mommy, I promise. I’m sorry.”
“Okay, then. Tell Kelli you’re sorry, too.”
“I will, Mommy.”
Tyler sauntered out of the room
“Anyone need another drink?” Tom asked.
“I could use a Seven-Seven,” Julie said.
“New Year’s Eve isn’t until Wednesday, Jules. Don’t you think you’re celebrating a bit early?” Frank said to his wife.
“This will be my last one, Frank. I can’t help but notice that you’re on your third beer already. So what makes you so special?”
“I can handle my booze-you can’t.”
Julie scowled. “That’s a crock.”
“Whatever.”
Tom got up and headed out of the room. Frank followed behind and paused for a moment in the living room.
“How’s it going, pumpkin?” Frank asked his four-year-old daughter, Brittany. “Are you and Kelli having a good time?”
“Yes, Daddy. Guess what! We just decided that we’re going to be fashion models when we grow up!” she gushed. The two girls then commenced to sashay around the room as if they were doing a runway show.
“Perish the thought,” Frank sighed as he followed Tom into the kitchen. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for the teen years, Tom. I’ve been dreading that the very moment I found out we were having a girl.”
“I know just what you mean,” Tom replied. He opened the fridge and saw that the Seven Up bottle was nearly empty.
“Looks like we’re out of pop. I’ll go to the store and get some more.”
“Want me to join you?” Frank offered.
“Nah, that’s okay. You hold down the fort and I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Okay.”
They returned to the family room and Tom gave Peg a peck on the cheek.
“I’m going to run to get more Seven Up-we’re fresh out. Anything else anyone needs?”
“Can you get me some cigarettes?” Julie asked.
“Sure. Marlboro Lights, right?”
“Yes, here, I’ll go get my purse.”
“Forget about it, Julie. As much as I don’t want to be a party to your suicide, I will spring for the little killers for you.”
“You’re a dear, Tom.”
“I know it. Back in a flash.”
“Be careful, Tom. The roads have surely gotten slick by now,” Peg cautioned.
“I will.”
Tom went to the closet, took out his coat and gloves then left through the side door. The snow was coming down hard and it looked like Columbus was finally going to get its first blizzard of the season.
Excellent, Tom thought. It was about time.
He got in and started the engine then grabbed the ice scraper lying on the back seat floorboard. He went about the task of clearing the windshield and windows, taking his time as he did so. The frigid air felt good and he was in no particular hurry to get back to the others.
As he backed the Jeep Laredo out of the driveway, Tom found himself pondering his present dilemma. He had in fact been thinking about it the entire day-dismayed to discover that even the euchre game had failed to relieve the incessant nagging thoughts.
Was he doing the right thing? Or should he tell Frank the whole ball of wax and let fate take over from there?
“Yeah, right.” he breathed out loud.
Face it, Grayson-this is a no-brainer!
He reached the supermarket and pulled into the parking lot. The Jeep’s interior was still uncomfortably frigid so he left the engine running, hopped out and pressed the lock button on the key remote.
Once inside the neighborhood market, Tom began searching for the soft drink section. Although he’d been here countless times, he couldn’t recall where it was. He stopped agonizing over his thoughts long enough to walk the entire length of aisles, peering down each one until he finally located the beverage section near the far end of the store.
Tom picked up a liter of Seven Up and headed toward the checkout lanes. He paused at the cigarette counter long enough to pick up Julie’s Marlboros then joined the throngs of people waiting in line. It was obvious that New Year’s Eve was just around the corner when he observed the enormous amounts of wine, champagne and beer piled up in the carts.
As the thought of New Year’s Day entered his mind, Tom considered it’s profound symbolism. If he were to do what he should morally do, this New Year would mark the beginning of a whole new life for him: the end of his comfortable existence with his wonderful wife and kids in their quaint but beautiful home in suburban Worthington, and the likely termination of his job as art history professor at Capital State College. And to think that he had just received tenure this year
…
His turn came and Tom paid the cute young cashier with his check card and headed for the exit. He sneezed loudly along the way and cursed his sinuses-how long had it been since he’d been able to smell or taste anything? What he had once thought was a head cold had now become full blown sinusitis. Peg was pushing him to see a doctor about it and he had to admit he was getting tired of not being able to breathe half the time. Maybe he’d go have it checked out after all, he resolved dismally.
The snow was coming down hard now-in fact it was a full-blown blizzard. Tom could barely make out his Jeep parked just twenty yards away.
He got in and stared out at the driving snowstorm. Instead of pulling away, he sat there mesmerized by the wintry scene and resolved that he must come to a definite decision about Tracy Adams. He already knew what the answer would be, but the moral aspect continued tugging at him hard, making it difficult to fully and unequivocally commit to it.
Unfortunately, the fact that Tracy was pregnant with his child wasn’t the only issue here-as if that weren’t enough.
He had to consider the other person involved in this as well-the poor black girl who had been dumped off in the alley over a month ago. Tom learned from Frank, who was a trial lawyer, that the young woman had in fact been abducted and raped but had no clear memory of what her assailant looked like. The police were looking for anyone who may have possibly seen the woman’s attacker or his vehicle on the night of the crime.
This had really thrown Tom for a loop. And as guilty as he felt about not coming forth with any info for the police, he was still too paranoid to even consider getting involved in the investigation.
Once it became public knowledge that the police still had no leads in the case, Tracy started calling Tom on a daily basis to update him on her pregnancy and beg him to go with her to the police station to report what they had witnessed.
But Tom didn’t want to hear any of this. He just wanted everything to go away.
A week ago, apparently fed up with his noncommittal attitude toward their unborn child and the rape case, Tracy gave him an ultimatum. If he didn’t take responsibility for his actions, she would go to the police by herself and give her account of what they had seen that night. She assured Tom that she would keep him out of the picture, so he needn’t worry about being involved. She would have their baby all by herself, without any involvement from him whatsoever, and he would never be allowed to see their child or be a part of its life.
In essence, she was telling him that he would be off the hook.
Tom could hardly believe what he was hearing-he was absolutely elated. For not only would he get out of having to testify in a court case, he wouldn’t have to worry about his little secret ever being found out. All would be good again!
Or so he thought.
His conscience was gnawing away at him. The girl obviously loved him and her feelings were hurt. Although that certainly wasn’t his fault-he’d made it clear to her all along that he loved his wife and would never leave her-it nevertheless wasn’t making him feel any better about this.
But the clincher was that Tracy still hadn’t gone to the police in all of this time. Her threat of reporting the incident had just been a bluff-a last ditch effort to heap the maximum amount of guilt on him in hope that he would relent. She wasn’t going to go to the police unless he accompanied her-that much he was certain of now.
So in essence, the burden of dealing with this whole mess fell on his shoulders.
Damn! he thought. If only he had never accepted the girl’s offer to go out for “an innocent beer” that day. None of this would have ever happened. But he had let her incessant flirting win him over and make him forsake the first cardinal rule of teaching: never get personally involved with a student. And now he was paying the price for allowing the ill-fated May-December romance to go on as long as it had Tom’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the absolute fury of the raging storm that was now obscuring virtually all visibility outside the Jeep. Knowing that Peg and the others would be concerned, he threw the gearshift lever into drive and carefully pulled out of the supermarket parking lot.
He kept his speed at around 20 miles per hour as he deftly navigated the Jeep over the snow-covered roads through the blinding frenzy. Ten minutes later, he pulled into his driveway and parked. Clutching the grocery bag, he got out and headed for the side door.
The first thing he noticed when he entered the house was that the laundry room light was not on. Glancing over at the light switch, he saw that it was in the ‘on’ position, yet the fluorescent ceiling light was out cold. Odd.
Then he noticed the deadly silence.
The kids had been noisy all afternoon while at play in the living room. Perhaps they were back in the family room with the adults.
He entered the kitchen. The lights were out. The light switch was on.
The storm must have killed the power, he thought. He removed the liter of Seven Up from the bag and took Julie’s cigarettes with him into the dark living room. As he neared the family room, he could feel his heart beating faster as the overwhelming silence began to register full tilt.
When he entered the family room, he was utterly shocked at what he discovered Not a soul was in sight. The card table was just as it had been before he left-the playing cards strewn around in random stacks, the half empty bowl of chips sitting near the center and everyone’s drinks, including Peg’s half finished daiquiri, sitting there among the rings on the tablecloth. Three of the chairs were pulled away from the table about the distance they would be if they were occupied. When he noticed this, Tom felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck.
It was as if they had all vaporized.
Then he chuckled to himself nervously. Surely this was some kind of gag. A little pre-New Year’s prank dreamed up no doubt by Frank, the perennial jokester. That had to be it!
Tom decided to play along.
“Here are your coffin nails, Julie,” he announced to the empty room. “Oh, imagine that! The damn things must have already killed you and your cancer-ravaged body has been carted off to the morgue. Oh well, I guess I better find out where everyone else is and let them know that we need to start making your funeral arrangements.”
Half expecting someone to suddenly run out from behind the furniture and reveal their cover, Tom quickly turned around. Nothing. Then he headed through the living room to the stairs leading to the second floor. Most likely they would all be hiding up there somewhere, he thought. He took the stairs at a leisurely pace, giving everyone adequate opportunity to hide themselves. He could almost see the kids, Kelli in the lead, jumping out from behind her parents’ king size bed and screaming bloody murder to scare the mortal shit out of him.
He tiptoed to the master bedroom door and opened it slowly.
“Anybody in here?” he said.
He walked past the dresser over to the bed and sat down in it. He fell onto his back and peeked over the edge on the far side. Not a soul.
“Hmm. I wonder if there’s anyone in the closet.”
He got up, went over to the walk-in closet and opened the door.
“Gotcha!” he cried, his arms outstretched like a ghoul.
But there was nothing but clothes and dark, muffled silence inside.
Tom closed the door and felt his senses sharpen as he left the bedroom and headed down the hall to the kids’ rooms. He now realized that his theory was ludicrous – the notion that Peg, Frank, Julie and the three kids had all gotten together while he was gone and decided to play hide and seek just didn’t float. It simply didn’t seem realistic, especially given the fact that the power was off, which the snowstorm had apparently prompted.
Unless they had decided to trip the circuit breaker themselves, which would be less likely and even more ridiculous. Peg, in her typical level-headed way of running the house, would never have allowed that to happen for such a cheap thrill.
He went to Kelli’s bedroom and peeked in. The room was shrouded in semi-darkness but it was clear that nobody was there. He went over to Tyler’s bedroom and discovered the same.
The basement was his last shot. Annoyed and put off now by this whole farce, Tom went back downstairs and headed for the basement door located near the entrance to the kitchen. When he opened it, all he saw was absolute darkness. He went to one of the kitchen counter drawers and found a mini Mag-Lite, switched it on and trained the beam on the stairs as he made his descent.
The basement was little more than a large storage room and a place for the rarely used Brunswick pool table. There was also a half-bath and a small area that Tom used as a darkroom for his photography. It took only thirty seconds to determine that the basement was unoccupied.
The silence was intense as Tom went over to the circuit box panel and opened it. He shined the light on the breaker switches and saw that all of them, including the main switch, were on.
So there had indeed been a power failure.
So where the hell is everybody?
Tom closed the panel and went back upstairs, taking two steps at a time. He could now feel his pulse pounding like a drum in his neck as he realized that he was experiencing a keen sense of dread. His wife, kids and close friends were gone-seemingly evaporated from the house!
Coats! He thought. If they had left the house, they surely would have worn their coats.
He ran over to the hallway closet and gazed inside. He saw Frank’s gray wool coat and Julie’s blue parka along with their kids’ winter coats.
Tom’s sense of dread now became absolute fear.
In a panic, he ran over to a window and peered out at the street. As expected, he saw Frank and Julie’s gray Chevy Tahoe still parked along the curb out front-he recalled seeing it there when he’d returned from the supermarket. He ran over to the front door and stepped out onto the porch. He looked up and down the street as far as could see and noticed that all of the lights in the houses were out, as were the streetlights.
The phone! He thought. He would call the power company and find out what the deal was with this power outage.
But first he would call the police.
He ran back inside and picked up the phone. There was no dial tone. Recalling that the cordless phones didn’t work when the power was off, he ran into his study and picked up the old analog office phone on his desk. It was dead as a doornail.
He located his cell phone in his briefcase and booted it up. The sound of the welcoming chime was music to his ears. Now he could finally get to the bottom of all of this.
He stared at the LCD and awaited the welcome screen to come on. When it did, he noted that there were no signal bars showing up as he keyed in 911 and brought the phone to his ear. Nothing but pure silence. He tried again. Nothing.
“Shit!”
Now he was absolutely mystified. There was no power, no phone service and no sign of his family or friends. He stared at the phone a few seconds then flipped it shut and shoved it into his back pocket.
Unsure of what to do next, Tom finally decided to run next door and see if the Chandlers were home. Maybe Bill or Marge would have an idea of what the hell was going on. Maybe they even knew where Peg and everyone had gone.
He fled the house and trudged across the driveway to the Chandlers’ front door and rang the doorbell. Realizing that their power was most likely out as well, he knocked on the door and peered through a window to see if he could see anyone. He waited a few seconds then started beating on the door when he noticed their only car parked in the driveway.
“Bill, Marge – are you guys in there?” he shouted.
When nothing happened, he walked around to the rear of the house and peered through the dining room window. There were no signs of life anywhere. Certainly odd, seeing as the elderly couple rarely went out with anyone and their car was here.
Tom decided to try Gary Morris, who lived directly across the street. He knew for a fact that Gary was home because he’d seen him pull into his garage just as he left for the supermarket.
He ran through the driving snow across the street to Gary’s and beat on the door.
“Gary, it’s Tom!” he cried, wanting nothing more right now than to simply see another human being. He knew that Gary Morris had a penchant for keeping an eye on the neighbors and their goings on. If anyone knew what the hell was happening around here it would be good old Gary.
After another minute of pounding and shouting, Tom ran around to the side of the house and peered into the garage window. Inside he saw Gary’s blue ‘99 Buick. He continued around the side to the backyard gate and lifted the latch. He strode over to the back door that led out from the kitchen and began beating on it. A moment later he went over to a window and peered inside. Tom saw nothing but a darkened room.
Gary lived in a single story ranch that had no basement, only a crawl space. In this tiny house, he most certainly would have heard all of the beating and shouting by now.
Tom went back over to the kitchen door and tried it. It was locked, just as the front door had been. He made a quick decision: he would bust out a window and go inside. Gary was either dead somewhere in there or had vanished mysteriously like the others. He had to find out.
He spotted a snow shovel leaning against the siding and picked it up. He went over to the kitchen window and poked the handle through a single pane of glass near the middle of the frame. The muffled tinkling sound of the shattered glass was all but lost in the raging snowstorm. Tom reached in and turned the latch, hoisted up the window and stuck his head inside.
“Gary-it’s me, Tom! You in there?”
When no reply came, Tom slipped fairly easily though the window and onto the linoleum floor. It was dusk now and he could barely see his way around in the kitchen. He rummaged through the drawers until he located a flashlight and switched it on. The first thing he did when he spotted the wall phone was try it. The line was dead. He replaced the phone and went into the dining room.
Tom knew the house well. The living room was straight ahead and the two bedrooms and bath would be to the right. He felt his heart race in his chest as he moved cautiously into the living room.
He flashed the light around the entire perimeter. Gary’s easy chair was in its usual position in front of the television. A neatly folded newspaper sat on the coffee table and the remote control rested on a small table beside the chair. Tom went over to the television and touched the screen. It was still warm, just as he had expected it would be.
But where was Gary?
Tom felt like a nervous cat burglar as he crept slowly toward the hallway where the bedrooms were located. He knew that the first room on his left would be the spare bedroom. He peered inside and saw nothing but a single bed, nightstand and a dresser. He walked past the bathroom to the only remaining room in the house. The door to Gary’s bedroom was closed. Tom took a deep breath and turned the doorknob slowly, dreading what he might find on the other side.
“Gary?” he called softly, startled at the sound of his own voice in the eerie silence of the house.
He swung the door open gently.
He aimed the flashlight first on the queen sized bed then all around the room.
Nothing. No body. No Gary.
He was gone, just like the rest.
Tom felt his heart sink like a lead weight.
Where in the holy hell is everybody?
At that moment, something inside Tom snapped.
Like a raging lunatic, he tore out of Gary Morris’s house across the yard to the Williams house and beat on the door furiously with both fists.
“Mike, Carol-open the door! It’s Tom Grayson! Please come to the door and talk to me!”
He only waited a moment before turning the doorknob to see if it was locked, which it was. He ran over to their driveway and saw the Williams’ teenage son’s Mustang parked behind Carol’s Sonata. Mike’s Explorer was parked out front on the street.
Tom sprinted back to the front door.
“I know you guys are in there-answer the damn door!” he cried.
In a fit, Tom ran around to the side of the house and looked through a window for any signs of life. Then he ran around to the backyard and tried the sliding patio door. Miraculously, it slid open.
Not really expecting to find anyone there, Tom entered the Williams house as though he lived there.
“Just dropping in to see if anyone in this fricking neighborhood is still around – hope you don’t mind!” he hollered as he sashayed across the family room into the kitchen. He picked up the phone, which was of course dead, then made his way throughout the house. There were signs that someone had been home recently-the television in the den was still warm as was Jason’s iMac in his bedroom. But, just like everybody else, the entire Williams family had apparently vanished from the face of the earth.
Tom entered the living room and plopped down on the soft leather sofa. His mind was awhirl, trying to put all of this into some sort of reasonable perspective.
It wasn’t possible to do.
He considered the facts thus far. It was a fact that every person he had tried to locate since returning from the supermarket was gone. Where they had gone, he did not know. And, they all appeared to have been in their homes before their sudden disappearance. Everyone involved also shared the following circumstances: the power to their homes was off and their phones didn’t work.
Theories, Mr. Grayson?
He had none.
Deductions?
He hadn’t an inkling.
What to do now? What would be the most logical thing to do?
Tom pondered this for a moment. He only came up with one obvious answer: he had to find out if anybody, anywhere was still around, period.
And he needed to do it pronto, before it got any later.
Because the last thing he wanted to do tonight was go to bed in utter darkness and total isolation, knowing that when he woke up nothing will have changed.
Tom exited the Williams home and returned to his home. It was pitch dark inside so he gathered up several candles and placed them throughout the house. Afterwards, when he tried the phone again only to find it was still dead, a thought suddenly came to mind: his iBook! It ran on battery power-maybe he could get on the internet!
Smiling to himself at the prospect, he went over to where his laptop computer was plugged into the wall near his fax machine and clicked opened the lid. He recalled that it had been a bit low on power that morning so he had attached it to the charger. It should be fully juiced up by now.
He pressed the power button and held his breath as the computer booted up. Once he saw the desktop, he clicked on Safari in the dock and watched the application appear on the screen. When the window opened, he clicked on the Yahoo bookmark tab and waited.
Two seconds later, a new window appeared.
You are not connected to the internet. Check your…
Tom leered at the screen. Oh, but yes I fricking am connected, you sonofabitch!
Then Tom laughed out loud lamely as he realized his folly.
But of course you aren’t connected to the internet, you idiot! Because although your ethernet cable is connected to your computer, it is connected on the other end to a dsl modem which in order to work requires not only ac power, which you ain’t got, but a working telephone line as well, which you also ain’t got Tom shut down the computer with an agonizing groan. He now realized that in spite of his impending dilemma, he was totally exhausted. He could feel the wind in his sails starting to wane.
He sat the laptop down and went into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water and chugged it down. He knew what he had to do next. And he was going to have to do it now, in spite of his fatigue and in spite of the fact that the blizzard outside showed no signs of letting up.
He retrieved the flashlight and went around the house blowing out all of the candles. Then he left by the side door and began scraping the freshly fallen snow off of his Jeep. The snowstorm was really raging now.