Read Online Vanish by Tom Pawlik - Free Book Online

gravel.
    Mitch shook his head and lowered the gun. His eyes filled with tears. “No.”
    This couldn’t be real. His mother had died ten years ago. He had watched her suffer as the cancer devoured her. This couldn’t be happening again.
    A sliver of sunlight shone between the curtains on the window across the room. Outside, a shadow passed by, blocking the light momentarily, and then moved away.
    Mitch brought the gun up and fired at the window. Bullets tore through the curtains, shattering the glass. Smoke filled the room. He lunged for the window and tore the curtain aside. Sunlight poured in, blinding him for a moment. He heard a thump overhead followed by a heavy scraping, like claws skittering across the shingles. Then another series of thuds and then…
    Nothing.
    Squinting in the light, Mitch peered out the window. Nothing moved in the yard below. He turned back to the room. Through the haze of smoke, he could see that the bed was empty. The quilt was pulled down, but all that remained was a pillow. No indentation, no other sign that his mother’s body had been there. He looked out the window again and then back to the bed.
    Mitch blinked and stormed into the hall. Enough of this. They wanted to mess with his head? He’d give them something to mess with!
    He ran down the stairs and outside, circling the house, pointing the gun in front of him. He checked the roof, the shrubs, and the tall hedge that enclosed the spacious backyard. Nothing moved. No sign of life.
    “Who are you?” he shouted. “What do you want with me?”
    His voice dissolved into silence. Nothing moved in the yard or out on the street. He heard nothing but his own labored breathing.
    Mitch shook his head and his voice softened. “Why are you doing this?”
    He returned to his motorcycle, swung a leg over, and sat for a moment.
    He
had
seen his mother in her bed. It couldn’t have been a hallucination. He had
heard
her breathing. The stench of death was as thick as it had been all those years ago. She looked exactly as she had then. He was fourteen when she died, and he remembered vividly the suffering she had gone through. And how horrible she looked.
    And he remembered his father—the congressman—sitting at her bedside, praying and reading the Bible to her. The man’s piety revolted him.
    Mitch had never accepted his father’s faith. It was never anything more than a set of rules and regulations. He had given God one chance to prove Himself. To show He was more than just empty religion. Mitch had prayed for his mother to be healed. For seven months he prayed. And when it was obvious she wasn’t going to get better, he prayed for at least a quick and merciful death. But even that prayer was not answered. She died slowly. She lingered for more than a month in that condition.
    Mitch grimaced. It was as if God wanted to show off His handiwork. Like He took delight in her suffering.
    The morphine had done little to ease her pain toward the end. And his father would read that stupid Bible to her as if it would bring her some comfort. She was lying there, moaning, and he just kept reading. It was as if no one could see her suffering. And no one would do anything about it.
    That was when Mitch learned prayer was useless. God did what He wanted. He couldn’t care less. Mitch had hated God with every fiber of his being.
    And he hated his father for keeping his faith.
    Mitch ran his hand through his hair. What was going on?
    It must have something to do with the cloud he’d seen last night. Or more specifically, whatever was
inside
the cloud. He shook his head and grunted. As weird as it seemed, there had to be some kind of alien presence at work.
    Whatever was happening, Mitch knew he wasn’t alone. Someone… or some
thing
… was following him.
Watching
him. It was as if they were trying to make him see things, to scare him. Maybe just to see how he would react.
    He felt a light breeze brush back his hair. And on the breeze, he heard