“But haven’t you broken the law by kidnapping us?” asked briefcase man.

The smaller Nixon paused and thought about the question. “I suppose we have, but we don’t believe they will pursue us because their energy and time will be taken up investigating the technology we have shown and the suggestions we will make. We believe our message will be strong enough to bring about changes to the law.”

“What do you mean by ‘suggestions’?”

“Well what you just saw . . . there really is no penalty for the so-called trivial laws. There are fines, there is something called probation for minor offences and then there is prison. We will be offering an alternative penalty.

“And what may that be?” asked briefcase man.

“Let’s focus on prison for a moment, while a criminal is in prison they can’t commit crimes, can’t rob people, break into houses or mug someone. On that level, prison does work. But from the other side, some have said that being in prison made them hard, functioning more like an animal than human. There’s a loss of sensitivity, lack of care and not being scared of returning to prison—a revolving door mentality. So we want to avoid prison.”

“But people who commit minor offences don’t end up in prison.”

“Repeat offenders do. And they keep offending because they are not sufficiently inconvenienced by the current punishments.”

“Why are you telling us this? Shouldn’t you be talking to the authorities?” One of the women spoke up.

“Not at this point. You are our messengers. As you can appreciate, if we were to appear in public we would be arrested, so we will wait for the appropriate time.”

Mackenzie looked around. She was tired. Most of the others had returned to their seats. They all looked weary, resigned to the fact that really there was not much they could do but wait it out. She pulled up a seat, and joined them. A bus trip back tomorrow. She couldn’t wait. It should be an interesting bus trip. How were they going to conceal their hideout? With blindfolds or blackened windows, maybe. Giddy up, horsey. Yes, she was tired.

Waiting was easier said than done. Mackenzie thought it would be a good idea maybe to get to know each other; it would also help kill some time.

Briefcase man was Graham, an entrepreneur, who owned a speciality coffee company now expanding into the Asian market. Everybody wanted an espresso after his introduction. Angela was a personal trainer and worked in a city gym. Mark was a backpacker on his way to buy some groceries. He was excited—backpackers want stories to tell, and he reckoned he was on to a good one here. Not everyone shared his enthusiasm. Barbara and Peter were tourists and weren’t overly excited about the deviation in their holiday plans. And Mackenzie was Mackenzie. She broke down when she told them about Paul. Barbara and Angela comforted her.

And there was the man with what looked like a tear tattooed on his face. He didn’t participate in their team building exercise. People didn’t want to push his involvement.

The introductions killed some time. Dimness came over the room. Hot food was wheeled in—pizzas. At least they knew they were near civilisation.

Chapter 18

AARON RETURNED TO HIS apartment late in the afternoon. He was none the wiser, and it had been a long day. Thoughts of Mackenzie made it hard to concentrate on anything else. His boss was sympathetic.

He had stopped near the site on the way back home and watched as emergency services personnel tried to control people, crazy people. Once news of a big event or accident got out crazy people came from everywhere to see what had happened. And this was a big event.

A group of people had placards declaring the end was near. Repent and be saved. Aaron wondered what church they belonged to—there was a drunk arguing with them, swaying forward and back. Some placard-holder’s friend stood ready to catch the man if his coordination skills completely failed.

Aaron needed some air so put on a sweatshirt and headed out to the balcony. He could see a helicopter hovering over the site. Why were people attracted to tragedies? Does it put people on a pedestal if they were able to tell others they saw where those people vanished? Everyone seemed to be seeking significance. He walked back inside thinking about dinner. He looked at his phone on the coffee table. Do people feel significant when they got text messages? Is someone more significant if they have a famous person’s autograph?

Why was this significance thing bothering him so much? Mum and Dad always made him feel significant, important. They were good parents. Maybe some seek significance because no one told them they were important. Maybe some take their own lives because they feel insignificant, unimportant, like the world would be a better place without them. It was a frightening thought. Mackenzie was important to Aaron. Did he ever tell her that?

Aaron walked into his study and found the folder he was looking for—the one with his investigation notes on Dad’s death. This incident involved the same technology. It was too much of a coincidence not to, and it looked like it had passed its testing phase. He retrieved the number of the security firm where Lucas worked and called it. As he expected, Lucas no longer worked there and there was no forwarding address. Did Lucas still live in that flat in Morningside? He doubted it.

He thought of Mackenzie and he remembered her faith. Aaron whispered to Mackenzie that he was coming but he needed to work out few things. He asked God to look after her.

Aaron went into the kitchen and found some Thai takeaway leftovers in the fridge. He put the leftovers in the microwave and set the timer. He walked over to the TV, turned it on and started flicking through the stations. It seemed every station was covering the event. It reminded him of the TV coverage of the floods that rampaged the city some years back. The microwave timer went off.

He grabbed his tucker and cutlery, sat down and continued watching the TV coverage. The actual vanishing was caught on CCTV and had been released to the media outlets. Aaron watched and recorded the replay. Although he sensed it, the video confirmed that Mackenzie was one of those that vanished. Was he in some kind of denial? He put down his cutlery and placed his head in his hands. He was angry. He took some deep breaths, calmed down, and watched the replay again. Mackenzie and Paul were pushed from behind by a man being chased by police. He hoped that person wasn’t still with them. The police must have been after him for a reason.

Where had they gone?

Aaron got tired of the coverage of the event and wanted to watch something different. He started flicking stations again and a man caught his attention. It was a familiar face. Where had he seen that face before? The man was giving his view of the event.

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable answer coming. I have met with the Police Commissioner who will join us soon. Our best people are on the job, so I’m expecting some answers soon”.

“As a churchgoer, Mr Windsor, do you believe this could be something similar to the rapture?” a reporter asked.

“No, I don’t.”

“Could you elaborate?”

“Well, I’m still here.”

“What does that mean?” another reporter asked.

“As churchgoers, we believe that the Lord will return one day to take us to be with him. They say in the twinkle of an eye the Christians will be taken up to be with the Lord. Do we know if any of those that have gone missing are churchgoers? And, as I said, I’m still here.”

Aaron shook his head. That’s where he had seen this guy before . . . church with Mackenzie, and the events after church that night. Aaron had briefly seen this man a few times before and had all but forgotten about him. Then he remembered he was hanging around his mum there for a while. He was thankful nothing happened there.

Now he thought about it, he remembered Lucas was connected to this minister guy. He watched further to see if there were any more questions. More rapture-type questions cropped up. Why were they asking questions about the rapture? Mackenzie once explained the rapture to Aaron. He understood that all the Christians would disappear, but today’s vanishing was only eight people.

An aide whispered something in the minister’s ear and handed him a mobile. He turned to the reporters and asked to be excused. He stepped away from the podium.

He came back and spoke to the camera. “We have received some correspondence regarding the vanishings. We have been advised to be careful with jaywalking in the city. Do what the red man says or else you may be inconvenienced and have to make your way back to work from a place far, far away. Yes, it will happen again, maybe the same place, maybe not.” He continued, emphasising the need to pay attention to the red man and not break the law, and don’t be inconvenienced.

Forget about the rapture. This was starting to sound like a Batman movie. Aaron couldn’t make up his mind if the devious Riddler had returned or the Joker has been let loose. But far, far, away? That sounded like Shrek’s kingdom. The humour just eased his stress level.

It was all getting a bit surreal. Inconvenienced if you broke the law? Some believe laws are an inconvenience anyway. He imagined a red man running around with horns in his head and a pitchfork. Where did that memory come from? The day had been too long; he needed sleep. His mind was all over the place.

He lay on his bed in boxer shorts and t-shirt, the reverse-cycle air conditioner keeping him warm. The bedroom curtains remained open, the darkness of the room softened by the glow and sparkle of the city lights. He thought of Mackenzie. He thought of his father. Dad would have pursued the perpetrators and Aaron would do the same. That minister guy had strong links to Lucas. They were all together at the café that night—the night that Lucas and his mate paid Aaron a visit.

They were all connected. They must be. Aaron just needed to work out what to do next. He again asked God to keep Mackenzie safe.

<°)))><

Aaron was tossing and turning as thoughts darted through his mind. He lay there and turned his head towards the window, the city lights reflecting, beckoning him. He got up, walked over to the window, and stared past his ghostly reflection towards the incident site. It beckoned him. He wasn’t tired. What time was it? His phone sitting in its bedside cradle told him it was 21:05. When was the last time he’d gone to bed so early? He decided to respond to the beckoning and take a walk.

He left his apartment dressed in a pair of jeans, t-shirt, a grey zip-up styled hoodie, and canvas sneakers. Out in the street things were quiet. He turned and looked down towards the river. A vapoury mist was floating up from the river bringing a chill to the air. He zipped up his hoodie and started walking towards the incident site.

St Stephen’s Cathedral came into view. Aaron stopped and looked up at the cathedral. A sign described it as the ‘spiritual heart of the city’. An angel sculpture guarded the cathedral’s entrance and stared back at Aaron. It all felt strange, like something was communicating with him or trying to communicate with him. What was going on? Something was being revealed to him but he could not interpret it. He turned from the angel and continued his walk, puzzled.

The incident site stood out, ablaze with huge spotlights, making it more like daytime than night-time. A slight breeze rocked the blue and white tape sealing off the site.

Some people stood watching investigators pottering around doing their thing with some interesting-looking equipment. Aaron looked over to where he’d helped that poor man a few months back. An eerie feeling came over him. He tried to shake it off. Maybe this area had become some kind of Bermuda Triangle.

He stood, watching, wondering where Mackenzie was and hoping she was safe. He wanted so much to talk to Lucas and get the answers. A trip to Lucas’s flat wouldn’t achieve much as Aaron felt that Lucas wouldn’t be there, but he still needed to check. He’d do that later.

Aaron thought of God and knew He would be helping Mackenzie. It gave him a strange feeling of peace. Was this faith? Since Afghanistan, he’d thought of God a lot more. It was probably fear—reaching out to God was merely a crutch for the feebleminded, a weakness for those that want someone to tell them how to live. Yet here he was, asking God to look after Mackenzie. Did that make him weak and feebleminded?