Back in the Aboveground, speculation about the disappearance of Miss Sarah Ann Williams, the pretty high school English teacher, was positively rampant. When coverage in more serious newspapers died down, the ridiculous tabloids began to speculate about what had 'really' happened. Everything from abduction by aliens to spontaneous combustion was suggested; one story in an issue of World News actually ousted the aliens, the Bat Boy, and Nostradamus.
For weeks after it happened, the little Quick Mart grocery where she had vanished from had more business than it knew what to do with. Thomas, the manager, had to take on six new full time employees just to keep up. Not that he was complaining, mind you, oh no. He knew a good opportunity when he saw one and didn't hesitate for a second to take full advantage of the situation. As soon as the cops had everything cleared away he started designing flyers, which were handed out to every curiosity seeker brave or stupid enough to cross the threshold. And gawkers did come, from all over. What they hoped to find when they got there was anyone's guess, but one of them rarely left without first buying something. If things kept up this well, he might start making t-shirts, and then . . . who knows? One thing Thomas was sure of though; Miss Williams getting herself shot in his store was the best thing that ever happened for his business.
The cops investigated it like it was a murder case, which technically, it was, even if they did only have one body and a pool of blood instead of two bodies and a pool of blood. And because there was so much blood—much more than any normal human being could have lost and still walked away, assured several forensic experts—and because there was also the dead body of one Mr. Nathaniel Jones, shot once through the head, laying in a puddle of stale beer and broken glass, as well as an eyewitness that claimed to have seen everything, they had no problem making the charge stick. In fact, when they caught up with Len and Alan, the two armed robbers, Len did perhaps the smartest thing he had ever done in his life and agreed to testify against his good buddy Alan, and in return, the DA agreed to waive the death penalty. For Len, of course, not for Alan.
Sarah's family was devastated by her loss, though admittedly, her mother was a little more devastated than either her stepmother or Toby.
Sarah's stepmother said it was a real shame, though secretly, she thought Sarah had gotten exactly what she had coming to her. What with all the running around with strange people she'd done back in high school and college—people with tattoos and piercings in unnatural places, who read Nietzsche and listened to Van Halen and quoted Jim Morrison—what else could anyone have expected for her but a bad end and a short life?
Toby had cried when his mother told him that his sister was dead, the way young children do when they don't really understand what it means, then went out to play with his friends at the arcade, and soon forgot all about it. Later, when he was older, he would say, "Yes, that was my sister," when he was asked by the curious and well meaning, but he barely remembered her by then. And he never knew that she had once saved him from the Underground. He wouldn't have believed it even if he did; you see, Toby didn't believe in fairies either, but the difference between him and Sarah was that Sarah remembered what it had felt like to believe.
Sarah's mother mourned Sarah's loss for the rest of her life. After the trial and conviction of Leonard Baker and Alan Sanderson, she had her daughter declared legally dead. She had a headstone made and erected in the cemetery beside Sarah's father. Not a cheap headstone either; it was one of those fancy alabaster stones with cherubim and doves carved into it. She went to the cemetery every day to cry against the injustice of a world that could take such a sweet, pure, innocent person from her family. She always left a single red rose on the ground, where Sarah would have rested, had she in fact been dead.
She was the 'grieving mother', and it was the best part she had ever played, on or off the stage, and she knew it. Her most secret fear was that one day her daughter would show up, completely unharmed and undeniably alive, and wonder just what the hell all the fuss was about.
She spent thousands of dollars and uncounted hours discussing this with her therapist.
At the high school where Sarah had once worked, her tragic disappearance provided her colleagues with a new topic to gossip about, which they did at great length.
The principal, Mr. Humphries, interrupted class a little before noon the day after I happened to call for a moment of silence. For the most part, the students spent this 'moment of silence' passing notes and trying not to giggle.
Samuel Windham's connection with the incident brought him popularity among the student body almost overnight. People he didn't know and had never spoken to were stopping him in the halls to chat. He was invited to all of the best parties. And even though he was a relatively bright boy for his age, and handsome in a very ordinary way, it would have amused Sarah to no end if she had known that she was more than a little bit responsible for Sam losing his virginity that year.
The only person who was not overwhelmingly surprised at the news of Sarah's disappearance was Laura, her editor. Sarah had always had an otherworldliness about her, as though she didn't have to wonder about Heaven, or Hell, or Shangri-La, because she'd been there already and had not been impressed by the view.
When Sarah's mother had had her declared dead, they had a little memorial for her and Laura had been invited. Actually, there was nothing little about it, but that had been what the invitation said. Laura had not attended. She was probably one of the few people in the big apple state that did not attend, but she had not wanted to go to something that she considered to be a farce.
It pleased her to think of Sarah somewhere else, alive and happy, living out her days in a place where she finally belonged, not cold, and dead, and rotting somewhere in a place that she had never honestly fit in.
Two days after Sarah's 'death', Laura received an envelope in the mail, forwarded to her office under Sarah's name. When she slit the manila envelope open with a quick jerk of her letter opener to find an acceptance letter for The Labyrinth, she sat down and laughed until tears ran down her face.