The Vanishings by Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins Page B

know about, and it blew while several cars were in an intersection here. Your mother’s been taken to Lutheran General in Park Ridge. You know where that is?”
    “No, sir.”
    “Well, it’s—jes’ a minute, son. . . . Yeah, OK. . . . Listen, Ryan, you have friends or relatives there that can look after you for a while?”
    Ryan wanted to blurt that he had just seen his dad’s name on a list of air crash victims, but he didn’t. “Why?”
    “Son, I hate like everything to tell you this over the phone, but your mother didn’t make it. The county morgues are full, so one is being set up at Maine East High School in Park Ridge, not far from the hospital. You’ll want to get someone to get you over here in a day or two for identification, but don’t try to come right away.”
    Ryan couldn’t speak.
    Sergeant Flanigan apologized again. “I’msorry, son. You’re sure you’ve got someone there to take care of you?”
    But Ryan hung up. Was it possible that the people who had believed in Jesus had been taken to heaven, just like Raymie had tried to tell him? He and his parents and Captain Steele had been left behind, but now both his parents were dead. What was he going to do?
    Ryan had no idea, but he was going to try one thing. Raymie’s church was less than a mile away. Ryan wasn’t in a hurry. He just wanted to walk and think and cry. If anyone was left at that church, Ryan might be able to find some help.

TEN
Finding Each Other
    “EVERYTHING all right at your place, Judd?” a neighbor called out as Judd Thompson headed around to the back of the house.
    “Don’t know yet,” Judd hollered.
    In truth, of course, he did know. He knew exactly what he would find in that house. The buzz of the champagne was long gone, and he felt suddenly foolish with his scraggly goatee, his wallet full of cash, and that top-of-the-line credit card. Aren’t I something? He asked himself. Big man. Big criminal. Big shot. Now I’m an orphan. He felt like a child, despite his sixteen years.
    Judd ran upstairs and checked Marcie’s room first. She was the persnickety one, the one who always kept her room just so, dolls lined up in a row, her schoolbooks and the next day’s clothes laid out neatly. Two tinybarrettes lay in the dent in the pillow her dark-haired head had left. Judd pulled back the covers, revealing her nightie.
    In Marc’s room, was which almost as messy as Judd’s own, he found socks and underpants in the bed.
    He glanced at his own room before heading down to the master bedroom. His parents had been in there, that was clear. They had gone through his stuff, looking for clues to where he might be. Maybe they had called the library to check on him. Somehow, they had figured it out, but he had left no clues in his bedroom. Fooling them, tricking them, putting one over on them had seemed so cool when he was on his way to O’Hare. Now he felt like an idiot.
    Judd had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he descended the stairs. He wanted his little brother and sister and his parents to be with Jesus, of course. That was what they wanted, what they talked about, what they looked forward to. But he didn’t want to be alone, either.
    He slipped into his parents’ bedroom, where the curtains were closed and it was dark. He didn’t turn the light on, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the darkness. Judd shut the door and leaned back against it, feeling weak. He hadn’t slept much on the plane,and now he was paying for the nervous energy that had kept him awake.
    Judd was stunned to see that his parents’ bed was still made. Could it be? Was it possible they had not been taken? No! It couldn’t be! He whipped the covers back and saw no bedclothes. He looked around the room, now turning on the light. His mother’s robe was draped over a chair. This made no sense. He found his father’s robe in the closet and held out a flicker of hope. But what was he hoping? That his little brother and sister