The Disappeared by Vernon William Baumann Read Free Book Online Page A

emotion. Her eyes filled with tears. She
took torturous slow steps towards her immobile father. Her one hand was
stretched out in front of her. She crept closer, reaching for him. ‘Please
daddy,’ she pleaded, ‘what’s wrong?’ Sobs choked her voice and racked her tiny
frame. In an excruciating ballet of fear and terror, Minki reached out her
hand. Reached out and touched her father. And then ...
    He spoke.
There was no alarm in his voice. No inflection. Nothing. And he said only one
word.
    ‘Sophia.’

Chapter Three
 
 
6:11
     
    Lindiwe stood
in the backyard of gogo’s house, frozen in place.
    Spring had
only just begun to stir in the trees that dotted the yard and the neat shrubs
that were arranged along the wooden fence. The tiny lawn on which Lindiwe stood
however was still yellow from the bitter touch of winter. The air was without
movement; a deathly stillness saturated everything.
    That was the
first thing that struck her. The utter desolate silence. Not a single sound
stirred the morning stillness.
    Lindiwe was
staring at the rear end of gogo’s cute little cottage-like house with
its quaint wooden window frames and its bright red kitchen door. But she didn’t
see any of it.
    Every morning
since her arrival – without fail – gogo’s two Yorkshire Terriers would
rush out to greet her. Licking. Barking. Clawing. With early morning
exuberance. Bloop and Blaps . The two Yorkies. Without fail either
one or both would come to fetch her and take her into the house.
    But this
morning there was only silence. And emptiness.
    And there was
something else. Something she couldn’t identify at first. What was bothering
her? What –
    And then she
realised. She ran to the wooden fence separating gogo’s yard from her
neighbour. Like clockwork, the appearance of the two Yorkies would elicit a fit
of barking from the neighbour’s grumpy old Doberman. But now there was nothing.
The barking had become such a part of her morning ritual that only its absence
now made her notice it. She looked over the fence, scanning the yard of their
neighbour – an old retired railway worker who was only slightly less grumpy
than his dog.
    Lindiwe
gasped.
    Old Mr
Roelofse kept the Doberman tied to a long chain that allowed the dog to roam
the limits of the yard.
    The chain was there.
But attached to the end of it was only an empty collar. The dog was gone.
    On the
dew-moistened grass, the empty collar with its chain lay like an incomplete
sentence. An obscene joke with a failed punch line.
    Lindiwe walked
anxiously towards the fence on the other side. Here the elderly Du Preez couple
kept their black Labrador unleashed. Free to roam their small neat yard. But
this morning the yard was empty. And the Labrador was gone.
    The anxiety in
her chest boiled over into near panic. Lindiwe ran for the back door.
     
     
6:29
     
    Someone was
behind him.
    Joshua paused.
With a measured breeziness he slipped a Camel cigarette from the packet in his shirt
pocket.
    Just be
chill. You’re just a hitchhiker, nothing more.
    As casually as
possible he turned around.
    It was a young
boy. He was staring up at Josh. A blank look on his face. Josh looked around;
the boy was alone. Unattended by an adult. He focused on the little boy’s face
again. That same blank unfaltering look. Josh guessed the boy was around eleven
years old.
    ‘Hey man, you
got a light on you?’ Josh smiled. Silence. The little boy’s empty stare didn’t
falter.
    ‘Have you seen
Winston?’ The question came out like a statement. Flat and toneless. Josh
frowned trying to probe the boy’s face for any hidden meaning. There was only
the blank wall of childhood. Josh looked up and down the street and shrugged.
He tried his most amiable and unthreatening expression.
    ‘Hmm ... Winston?
Now let me see.’ He put on a big show of thinking hard. Appearing to rack his
brain. ‘Nope. You’re the only little boy I’ve seen today. I guess your friend
must be at his girlfriend’s