Wired (2 page)

For a moment Graham stated in the mirror. His brown hair hung down into his eyes, but he had a pleasant round face and striking
dark eyes for a forty-year-old. At six feet tall, Graham always had a handsome look even after just dragging himself out of
bed. A second glance only confirmed the fact that a shower ought to do him a great deal of good.

He reached inside the shower door and hit the digital button to start the music at a low, quiet level. He touched the next
electronic switch that instantly produced hot water exactly at the temperature that Graham previously set the regulator.

Haunting sounds of Beethoven's
Moonlight Sonata
drifted across the bathroom, giving Graham Peck the closest thing to a spiritual lift that he had ever received. He needed
to start the day with something, anything, a lift.

Maria Peck was already scurrying about the kitchen when Graham came downstairs. The spacious room had a chopping block in
the center. In front of lace drapes purchased from Europe, a long deacon's table sat along the back window with an expansive
view of the backyard. The large way floor tile added a majestic appearance to the room.

Although Graham's mother was a small woman in her early seventies, Maria always arose earlier than everyone else. She seemed
to get a particular pleasure out of setting up the table for the children to sit down and eat breakfast, but they seldom spent
more than a couple of minutes gobbling down whatever they were consuming for the day before rushing off to school.

Maria's childhood had been spent in Millinocket, Maine, near Baxter State Park and the Penobscot River with a cluster of lakes
nearby. Her father emigrated from England as a common laborer and Maria grew up with the simplicity of a backwoods child.
Life had always been basic, but she had absorbed fearlessness as well as a decided common sense from the forests. The endless
buzz of the rampant busyness of her son's family left he somewhat befuddled by the hubbub of everyone rushing off each morning.

“Good morning, Mother.” Graham kissed Maria on the cheek. “You look happy this morning.” He picked up a glass of orange juice.

Maria beamed. “I'm happy every morning when I wake up in this home, my dear. It's wonderful to be here.” She hugged Graham.
“You're up rather early this morning.”

“The newspaper hitting the house woke me up, but I need to get to work early today. Lots to do.”

Maria nodded. “You work so hard, Graham. I worry about you.”

Graham smiled for the first time that morning. “You always did fret over me.”

“Everything is upside down,” Maria said as she popped a slice of bread in the toaster. “Yes, I know. All them people disappearing
has made everyone extremely nervous. The election is so important and all these strange events have happened lately.”

“Yes,” Graham said matter-of-factly.

“Shootings and robberies are everywhere these days and it's dangerous to walk out at night,” Maria rambled on. “The weather
has turned crazy and the world is upside down. I saw how eerie the moon looked last night. Our mayor has to worry about running
the city under such demanding conditions, don't ya know.”

“Hi, Grammy!” Mary sailed into the kitchen. “I've got to leave early this morning.” She stopped. “Oh, hello, Dad. You up chasing
last night's monsters at the crack of dawn.”

“Ha, ha.” Graham's voice was flat and sounded cynical.

“I thought maybe the vampires or werewolves would attack last night,” Mary teased. “Can't ever tell about what could happen
on Halloween Eve.”

“I wouldn't laugh about such,” Maria said, shaking her finger in her granddaughter's face. “I know you young'uns don't believe
in much anymore, but I grew up knowing that evil is really out there.”

“Come on,” Mary taunted. “How could you believe in all that nonsense?”

“I know, I know, twenty, thirty years ago lots of people lost their interest in religious things, but I didn't,” Maria insisted.
“The Church almost faded away, but then again, your parents didn't go anyway.” She abruptly shook her finger in her granddaughter's
face. “I'm here to tell you, Mary Peck, that the dark side didn't disappear. It's real and you ought to be careful of what
you say about these things.”

Mary laughed. “Come on, Granny. You're starting to sound like one of those Wicca freaks at my school. The truth is I don't
believe in any of it.”

“Your grandmother is trying to tell you something for your own good,” Graham said. “Pay attention to her.”

“
Whatever
.” Mary rolled her eyes.

“If nothing else, there's too many creeps walking up and down the streets these days. A few people have a lot of money and
a lot of people have nothing. Makes for a bad mix. You have to watch out for thugs sulking around the city.”

“Sure,” Mary said indifferently. “Sleazeballs, pluguglies, gorillas, hatchet boys, whatever. I know they're out there. Don't
worry, I'll stay out of their way.”

“Make sure you do!” Maria shook her finger in her granddaughter's face. “We don't want any disasters in this household.”

Mary smiled at her grandmother. “I promise I'll be a good girl. Honest. I'll stay of their way.” She grabbed a Pop-Up Bread
from the plate. “I don't need to toast this. I'll eat it on the way to school.” She started walking toward the door. “See
you this evening. I've got a pom-pom squad practice after school so I'll be home later tonight.” She opened the back door.
“Bye.” In a whisk Mary was gone.

Graham stood there staring. His daughter had come and gone like a whiff of smoke. One minute she was there. Then, boom! She
was gone. For a fourteen-year-old, Mary moved through the house like she owned the place. Graham wasn't sure weather he like
up her presumption or not.

“She's gone,” Maria said and threw up her hands. “By the time they are thirteen, children act like they own the world. I swear,
Graham! Your daughter acts like she's going on twenty-five.”

“She's a good girl, Mother. That's what gives me some peace of mind. Mary is popular at school—she has lots of good friends.
I trust her to do the right thing. She'll be fine.”

“I don't know.” Maria kept shaking her head. “She can be dad-gummed belligerent, hard headed sometimes. I simply don't know.”

“We named her after you. How could she be any other way?” Graham smiled impishly.

Maria kept muttering to herself, arranging and rearranging the dishes lined up on the cabinet. “I wonder how Matthew is doing
this morning off at that big university. You know Northwestern is terribly large for such a young boy as he is—and a freshman
at that.”

“Our son is fine,” Graham said. “Matt's always been a good boy.”

“I know, I know,” Maria said more to herself. “I simply wish they had more religion in ‘em.”

“What are you going to do today, Mother?”

Maria swished her cheek to one side and scratched her chin. “Well, I told Jackie I would straighten up your garage. I'm actually
thinking about painting the walls out there in that no man's land. Heaven knows the place needs a real workin' over. George
told me he'd help.”

“That's good. George needs to put in more time around the house doing something worthwhile.”

“He's only eight years old, Graham, but he'll be a real help.”

“Sure. And not having that five-year-old brother hanging around will help.”

Maria shook her finger at him. “Jeff is a very bright boy. He may only be five, but he's got the brains of a child twice his
age. Don't ever count him out.”

“Certainly.” Graham slipped his suit coat on. “Jackie won't be down for a while. I'll drive my two-seater to the Metro Urban
Express station. I filled it up with hydrogen night before last. She can use the gasoline car.”

“Now you be careful, son. Remember all those things you told Mary.”

Graham laughed. “Keep worrying about me, Mom. It helps.” He kissed her on the cheek and closed the door behind him.

T
HE RIDE
from Arlington Heights to downtown Chicago had changed since the installation of the Metro Urban Express lines. Of course,
transportation in all of the big cities had altered radically in the last fifteen years since petroleum supplies had become
even tighter. The train's comfortable seat and speed through the suburbs fit Graham's style. The train's breakneck speed fit
him like a tailored suit. He had always been a quick moving, decisive person who could make any office hop. The employees
straightened up when he came into the office. One of the reasons Graham had risen to the lofty position of assistant to the
mayor had been his ability to make instant decisions that turned out to be correct.

The Metro Urban train cruised at such a high rate of speed that travel time was minimized. The inner city had turned into
a place of startling contrasts. Plush stores remained as exotic as ever; but the tenement areas were frightening places to
visit, much less live in. Poverty had produced children who lived like animals. Anyone could be attacked on the streets by
young punks and never know what hit them.

Graham didn't worry much about those possibilities. He carried in his pocket a personal alarm button that the city provided
for all their top-level employees. One punch of the button and the nearest police officers would be alerted to come with their
guns drawn. At most, he would be exposed to attack for only a matter of a minute or so. Graham stuck his hand in his pants
pocket to make sure the quarter-sized button was there.

Like every other city in America, Chicago had grown enormously in the last twenty years, stretching its housing areas toward
Peoria and Urbana as well as Freeport and Rock Falls. If anyone wanted to avoid the urban beasts that roamed the streets at
night in search of drugs, it was necessary to keep moving toward those outlying areas. Unfortunately, all of the farming land
had been devoured by housing developments.

Peck leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to tune out the noise of the packed car. No matter
where he and Jackie turned, multitudes of people milled around. Even the poor restaurants had long queues. Periodically Graham
got tired of feeling like a piece of sand on an endless beach. There almost wasn't any place left where countless numbers
of citizens didn't flow back and forth like creatures bobbing around meaninglessly in the surf.

And then he thought about all those people who had simply disappeared. Graham didn't know any of them except for a minor employee
in his office, and he virtually didn't know that man. In an instant, millions had simply disappeared. Poof! Gone! And no one
knew where.

The unknown was what bothered him the most. Graham's style dictated grabbing a problem by the back of the neck and shaking
it until change followed. Not on this one! Researchers had not been able to turn up anyone who seemed to have any idea about
what had become of that multitude. Graham had worked with millions of Chicagoans who came and went every day. The idea such
a huge number could disappear without a trace simply left him speechless. The best he could do right now was to dismiss the
entire idea.

Graham patted his neck and made sure his sweater was in place. No one wore a tie anymore and graham liked the change. Sweaters
were infinitely more comfortable. Of course, comfort was the word these days. Everyone dressed for ease. Even the mayor appeared
on television occasionally wearing blue jeans that made him look even younger. Graham didn't like Bridges's extremely casual
appearance in those television shots, but the voters did and that was all that counted.

The train slowed and graham reached for the small computer case he carried with him wherever he went. In a matter of seconds
he could turn on the machine, flash a holograph keyboard on any surface and type out what he wanted to remember or send to
someone. The pocket computer made his job with the mayor easier to handle. He needed the help.

The campaign to reelect Frank Bridges had flip-flopped the city's regular offices from “Administrative Staff” painted on the
door to “Election Campaign.” Graham kept a foot in both worlds, both working for the mayor and being a major player in the
hoopla to win reelection. The task was demanding.

Within minutes of leaving Arlington Heights, the train pulled into his station and Graham joined the multitudes pouring out
for work in the downtown area. He pushed his way through the turnstiles and hurried up the street. When he reached the office,
the scene was exactly as he had anticipated. As he worked his way through the hubbub of secretaries and assistants, silence
fell over the employees. At the back he found his usually quiet office.

“Good morning, Sarah,” Graham said briskly to the secretary in front of his office.

“Oh, good morning, Graham,” Mrs. Cates answered. “You're looking sharp this morning.”

“Bad lighting,” he quipped.

“You're always funny.”

“Comes with the trade.”

Graham shut the door behind him and sat down at his desk. Momentary solitude surrounded him with the luxury of quietness that
few enjoyed. He took a deep breath and looked out the tenth-floor office window across the city toward Lake Michigan. The
changing of the trees' colors always imparted a sense of well-being. Like the lake, the scenery flashed beauty in every direction.
He had to put the picture behind him. It was time to get tough. The mayor expected him to crack the whip and Graham knew how.
He took a deep breath, and mentally put his armor on.

The phone rang.

“Peck here.”

“Graham, this is Frank Bridges. Can you get down to my office in one minute.”

“Certainly. It will take me less than sixty seconds.”

“Good. We've got a big problem. It needs your touch.” Bridges hung up.

Graham stood up. Maybe more people had disappeared. The daily riot had started again.

A
S USUAL
, Graham Peck had already been hard at work at his office for an hour before the family awoke. George Peck opened his eyes
slowly and stared at the white ceiling far above him. A now forgotten dream had left him frightened and unsettled. He stirred
uncomfortably in his bed. The noises downstairs told him that the rest of the family had already started their day. As always,
his father had left for work more than an hour ago and his sister Mary was probably gone before his father left the house.
Only his five-year-old brother Jeff would still be asleep across the room from George's bed. He turned the thick blanket back,
but didn't get out of bed. His heart kept pounding. George lay there, thinking about how strange everything in his world had
become.