The Vanishings by Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins Read Free Book Online Page A

lights went off, and when Judd headed toward the tiny bathroom, he noticed only the occasional reading lamp here and there. By the time he was back in his seat, the plane was a dark, quiet, humming chamber. He wished hecould sleep, but he couldn’t get his mind off his family.
    When would they discover he was gone? How would they feel? What would they do? Was it too late to just catch a plane back home, apologize, and beg for mercy? No, he was going to see this through. He was going to prove he could be independent.
    But boy, he thought, he was going to be tired. When that plane hit the ground in London, he was going to have to find a place to stay. Nervous energy left him weak and drowsy, but there was no way he could keep his eyes shut. Too much to think about.

    For two years since her parents had become Christians in the most bizarre way at that trailer park dance, Vicki Byrne had watched for them to fail. She was embarrassed by what they called “witnessing”—telling other people about Christ. They said they were “sharing their faith” with the people they cared about.
    That sounded so much like a cult, like the weirdos who tried to talk to people in airports, that Vicki wanted nothing to do with it. Her little sister was so excited about Sunday school and church that Vicki decided not to hassle Jeanni about it. Her older brother, Eddie, wrote and told her he had begun going to church up in Michigan.
    Vicki felt surrounded by idiots. She admitted to herself that she was impressed that her father had quit drinking. He still smoked, but he was trying to quit. He always said he felt bad about that, but she never saw him smoke at church, and he didn’t even smoke in the trailer anymore. He often said, “Someday God is going to give me the strength to beat this thing.”
    Vicki’s mother pleaded with her, to the point of tears, to go to church with them once in a while. Vicki finally gave in and asked if they would get off her back if she went to one service a month. They agreed, but she really had gone only three or four times in all. Every time her mother or father reminded her that she was not upholding her end of the bargain, the arguing began. She would swear she had just been to church with them the month before. They would show her on the calendar that she had not. She would yell and scream and walk out. They would plead and cry and pray for her.
    When she went to church, she hated it. Sometimes her mother looked at her to see if she had listened to what the pastor had justsaid, and at other times her mother leaned over and whispered the pastor’s last sentence. “Get out of my face!” Vicki hissed at her. Again, her mother fought tears.
    Vicki didn’t understand herself. Often she asked herself why she had to be so mean, so angry. It was obvious that this . . . this thing, whatever it was, was working. Her dad was a new man. He never missed work, was always on time, got promoted, had more friends. He was always sober. He looked happier. The only sore point in his life, besides his smoking, was Vicki. She could see him getting more and more frustrated with her, and she had to admit her goal was to make him explode in anger. Why? So she wouldn’t feel so bad about herself.
    She had always hated it when he had blown up at her in the past, but this new obsession with church and God was worse. The one time she pushed her dad past his limit, rather than yell, he broke down. “I think the devil’s got hold of your soul and he won’t let go!” her father exclaimed.
    Vicki laughed in his face. “What?!” she said. “You really believe that, don’t you? You think we’re living in the dark ages and maybe I’m a witch, is that it?”
    “I didn’t say that,” her father said, moaning.
    “Don’t you see how crazy you all are? Please, just leave me out of this!”
    “We don’t want you to go to hell!” her mother pleaded.
    “At least I’ll be with my friends,” Vicki said. She had heard people