Ryan Wiley - Disappearance

I grab my gun and get out, Tabby trying to follow along behind me.

“No, Tabby! Not this time, you stay here.”

I close the door in her face and she gives me a disapproving meow.

When I walk over, I think back to not only what Cujo looked like but the ground around him. I remember blood everywhere and thinking that a dog like that couldn’t possibly bleed that much.

I see nothing on the ground, though. Like Abby’s black BMW that vanished along with everything around it, Cujo has disappeared. He’s gone and all the blood and pieces of his body seem to be missing too.

Logically thinking, Cujo getting cleaned up seems way more possible than the car disappearing. I think, given one full day, I could have Cujo taken away and soak up enough of the blood to make the yard look good as new.

Somehow I don’t think this is what happened. If I wouldn’t have experienced the same situation with the car I may think otherwise, but I’m beginning to think it’s all just a fairy tale with no rational reason behind the things that are happening.

I look around just to make sure there isn’t even a hint of blood on the ground but there isn’t. Cujo has disappeared like the car, like everyone else. Nothing makes sense anymore.

I walk back to the car, Tabby looking at me with her little nose pressed against the window. I wonder what she’s thinking right now. When I get in she doesn’t try to come over. She stays by the passenger side window and only looks over at me for a moment before turning her attention back to the window.

I put the gun back in the passenger seat, turn the ignition on, and make my way to the highway. Tabby looks out the window, not seeming to be her regular self. I’ve known this cat for less than a day now and I’ve already become the worried parent.

When I get to the highway, there is a cross lane to make an illegal U-turn if needed. I figure this is as good a place as any to camp out. After all, I’m not sure what direction the black car will be coming from. I think back to previous days and it’s all been very random where the black car has been. Wherever I am, it finds a way to show up. It’s best that I be in a position to chase down the car from either side of the road.

I check the time again – eight thirty. I figure now is a good time to get everything in place. I take my gun and the box of bullets. If it speeds past me, I’ll only have time for one good shot — maybe two — but I want to have the bullets near me just in case.

Seeing me grab my gun seems to get Tabby out of her daze. She looks up at me like a worried mother looks at her son before leaving for military duty.

“It’s OK Tabby. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

I’ve just told my first lie to my baby. Something bad is about to happen. I’m not sure what, or if it will be bad for the car or me, but something bad is definitely going to happen soon.

Every minute I turn my head from one side of the highway to the other. To keep myself occupied, I recheck the holster to make sure the gun is locked and loaded.

Getting antsier, I check the time and see I still have twenty minutes before they should arrive. This is too much time to waste standing here so I get ready to do another test shot with the gun to make sure it’s working. The last thing I want is to be in the perfect position only to discover the safety is on or the gun isn’t firing for whatever reason.

The “No U-Turn” sign seems to be the perfect target practice. As always, I get into position far enough away that I don’t think debris will come back and hit me. I aim, this time able to stretch out my arm far enough that I can look down the barrel and properly aim. The sign is large from this distance that it only takes a second to measure it up. Then, I pull the trigger.

The gun kicks up into the air. I almost fall to the ground from the explosion. When the smoke clears I see the sign has been blasted to bits. I love this gun!

I’m glad I did the test run, because now I know I need to have a better stance to keep my balance. For this shot I was standing as if I were getting ready to walk. Instead, I now know I need to have my left foot well out in front of my right. Common sense, I’m sure, for most country boys, but I grew up without getting my hands dirty.

I’m now confident and ready for the black car. I look in the car window and see it’s 8:58. It’s amazing how time can slow down when you don’t want it to. I look down at Tabby who is staring at me with her worried face.

“I’m worried too Tabby, it’s OK.”

I turn my head from side to side every five seconds trying to find the black car. I can visualize it coming down the highway as far as I can see. It moves at breakneck speed as I get my gun ready. When it gets close, I take aim at a front tire and pull the trigger. It hits and the black car spins out of control tumbling over — finally stopping at my feet.

That’s the fairy tale scenario. If it were a week ago I might have expected it to happen like that. Now, I know even the simplest things have proven difficult.

More minutes pass but there’s no sign of the black car anywhere. It’s now time for it to be here.

The silence of the world around me is still hard to adjust to. In the regular world there’s almost always some kind of sound to distract your attention, whether it’s the TV, the radio, having a conversation, or the regular clicks and clacks you hear at work. Even when you’re outside, you hear birds or cars or something. It’s never totally silent… except for this past week.

That’s why it’s easy to hear the black car coming up behind me. It makes its way up the road I just came from. Unlike every other time I’ve seen the black car, it’s moving at the speed limit. It approaches the stop sign that leads to the highway, which is only about thirty yards from where I’m standing. Adding further to my surprise, the black car comes to a complete stop.

The car is close enough that I can see clearly there still isn’t anyone behind the wheel. It stays stopped like it’s looking at me and wondering what I’m going to do.

The truth is I have no idea what to do. This wasn’t part of the plan. I hold my gun tight in both hands, wondering if I should shoot at one of the tires. My hands are shaking but I could probably steady them enough to hit them. Something inside of me is telling me this isn’t what I should do, though.

Instead, I take one slow, careful step toward the black car. Then another. Worst case, I figure, if it speeds after me I can dodge out of the way. Since it’s so close, it can’t gain much speed at me.

I continue walking and the black car remains still. I don’t hear the engine running; does this mean it’s electrically powered? Since I’ve never seen this type of car before I can only assume that’s why it’s not making any noise.

I make my way to the driver’s side window and realize I’m afraid to even touch the car — images of being shocked to death flow through my mind. I peek inside to see if anyone’s hiding somewhere inside, but it’s empty. It’s just sitting here as if it’s off in a parking lot somewhere.

I decide I’m going to touch the car, just to see what happens and because I want to get inside. I reach my left hand out and touch the window… nothing. No electrocution, no engine kicking back on, no movement. Nothing.

I try opening the door but it’s locked. Go figure .

I’m stumped on what to do next. Should I take a shot at one of the windows? I’m so scared now I can hardly breathe. I ask myself why I’m this terrified. It’s just a car; I’m in no real danger unless it somehow self-destructs. Then I remember something said in one of my psychology classes in college discussing how we are afraid of the unknown. That’s what is making me so scared. I have no clue what this damn car is going to do next. It could transform into an alien spaceship for all I know.