The Travelers: Book One

by Tate, Sennah

  “Cabron,” Izzy hissed as she returned to Gemma, still glaring through the door though her target was long gone.

  Gemma just raised her eyebrows in question.

  “Oh, don’t even get me started. He’s not worth the breath,” Izzy answered Gemma’s unspoken words.

  Gemma nodded, not wanting to provoke Izzy any more. She already felt like she was treading on thin ice and she didn’t even know why.

  She finished her drink much more quickly than usual and made her way home without saying much else to Izzy. She couldn’t explain the feeling even to herself, but something just felt off. Izzy didn’t quite seem like herself, but Gemma couldn’t put her finger on the problem.

  She eventually chalked her reservations up to her own paranoia. There was nothing off about Izzy. She was just over-thinking things as usual, she reminded herself. There was no use in getting all worked up over nothing. Izzy wasn’t mad at her, she hadn’t done anything to offend her, there was no reason for her to be freaking out like this.

  It was a fitful night of sleep; Gemma tossed and turned, unable to shake the feeling that something just wasn’t right. She’d never really had much in the way of intuition, but right now her instincts were screaming at her. She tried to push them aside. She tried to go about her normal routine.

  But nothing was normal.

  The sky was clouded over, the sun shone still behind the dense blanket, the reflected rays making the sky a nearly blinding white despite the faint drizzle.

  Sunshowers. She was used to them being a Floridian, but they typically were an afternoon occurrence. In Tampa you could damn near set your watch by the 4 o’clock thunderstorm, but she’d yet to see one in Hannaford Glen.

  The rain was off and on during her walk, leaving her exhausted and the tiniest bit cranky by the end of it. Eustis ran up to the fence as usual as she approached, but instead of his cheerful wagging tail and lolling tongue, he greeted her with an aggressive bark and a low snarl. Gemma took a step back from the fence, surprised by the sudden change in the dog’s demeanor.

  “What’s up, buddy?” Gemma asked, still keeping her distance from to snarling dog.

  Eustis stuck his muzzle through the fence, snapping and growling at Gemma.

  “Mrs. Kruft?” Gemma called, “Is everything okay with Eustis?” It was out of character for the always happy pup to be so vicious.

  The old lady looked out at her from behind a screen door.

  “He’s protecting my property! Why are you hanging around out there? Scoping the place out? Trying to rip off a little old lady? Well, not while Eustis is around. He’ll protect me,” she raved before slamming the door closed.

  Gemma heard the distinct sound of the door’s tumblers locking into place and she just stood dumbfounded in the middle of the sidewalk for a moment not knowing how to respond.

  Maybe everyone was just having an off day. Maybe it was a full moon or Friday the 13th or someone broke a mirror — there had to be an explanation for the strange behavior of everyone around her.

  But if there was an explanation, she certainly couldn’t find it.

  A few more days passed, each one more cloudy and miserable than the last. By the end of the week, Gemma didn’t even want to leave her house any more. Eustis wasn’t the only animal effected by whatever was going around, either; the past few nights Gemma had failed to get any sleep at all because of the howling and caterwauling of brawling animals in the streets. It was enough to drive her insane, but she tried to keep her cool.

  Izzy’s lack of presence weighed heavily on her mind, too. On more than one occasion, Gemma walked or drove by Izzy’s house, debating whether she should check on her friend or not. Each time she told herself that she would be over-stepping some kind of boundary. She tried to call Izzy every day, not knowing if she’d ever gotten a new phone or not, but there was never any answer.

  She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t worth panicking over. Izzy said she was busy the last time they saw each other. Maybe she was just too busy for Gemma. It wouldn’t be the first time that she’d heard that excuse.

  Finally, after a week of clouds and rain, the sun started to break through for the first time. It seemed like the perfect day for sunbathing with a cold drink and a good book to take her mind off of all the recent unpleasantness.

  With a blanket, a Kindle and a hard lemonade in hand, she spread herself out on the grass in her yard before slathering on sunscreen to protect her fair complexion. She didn’t know why she thought she might be able to have a moment of privacy, but Mr. Garaldi quickly proved her wrong.

  “Good morning, young lady!” The old man called over the picket fence that separated her front yard from his.

  “Hello, Mr. Garaldi,” she replied, a polite smile curving her lips but never quite making it all the way to her eyes.

  Maybe she’d underestimated how much she enjoyed her privacy. At first she liked the community feel, but she didn’t exactly feel comfortable with her elderly neighbor peeking over her fence while she was in a bikini. Her sunglasses let her focus her attention on something other than the old man without looking rude. She wished that Izzy would come to her rescue with Mr. Garaldi like she had so many times in the past, but Izzy was no where to be seen.

  “How does this fine day find you, Miss?” He asked with a slight tremble in his raspy voice.

  “Same as usual. You?” Gemma answered, laying her head back, hoping he would take the hint.

  The octogenarian remained oblivious and continued to prattle on about various goings-on in the area. Gemma tried to maintain the image of being politely interested; though instead of listening to what he said, she spaced out, trying to find patterns in the liver spots covering his shiny bald head, like looking for constellations in the night sky. Whatever hair was missing from his head migrated to his eyebrows and — to Gemma’s amusement — his nose. She tried to ignore the long hairs that curled from his nostrils and the faint wheezing that came from them with every heavy exhale.

  He was a harmless old man; the least she could do was humor him for a little while. He was probably just lonely, she thought to herself, realizing she may have been a bit harsh on some of her solitary neighbors. Feeling a sudden burst of empathy, she tuned her attention back to what he was saying.

  “The Drewers, the Fulmonts, the Browns, the Lius…”

  She had to stop him, her brain scrambling for comprehension.

  “What about all of them?”

  His eyebrows raised and he took a deep breath, ready to give his practiced speech again, this time to an attentive audience.

  “They’ve all reported a pet missing in the last week. The animal shelter is overrun with reports, but none of the critters are turning up. If you ask me… Well, if you think about it, when was the last time you saw a stray out here? If you think about it, it was probably a while ago. Pretty spooky if you think about it, don’t you think?”

  Gemma frowned; what exactly was Mr. Garaldi suggesting?

  “I try not to think about it,” she replied honestly.

  It struck Gemma as odd that so many people were reporting missing pets when every night she saw the creeping shadows and heard the keening wails of animals on the prowl. It was bad enough that they were keeping her up at night, but two nights ago the animals ripped Emily Drewers’ car cover to shreds. The last thing she wanted was a yard full of debris after someone’s beloved pet decided to ransack her garbage can or even worse property destruction; she was on the verge of calling the animal shelter herself, but what Mr. Garaldi was saying didn’t match up with her experiences.

  Was he senile or was she going insane?

  With her sunny mood doused for the day, Gemma retreated into her home after a polite goodbye. She wiled the day away, flipping through channels, trying not to think about how badly she wanted to talk to Izzy about everything going on.

  She felt that Izzy’s disappearance was completely out of character, but she hadn’t even known her for a month; could sh
e really make that kind of judgment call?

  “That’s it. I’ve had enough of this moping around feeling sorry for myself,” she announced, turning the TV off before slipping into a pair of flip flops and grabbing her keys on the way out of the door.

  It wasn’t a long walk to Izzy’s house, but a strange tingle on the back of Gemma’s neck told her she should drive there just to be safe.

  The street lamp near her car flickered and she could just hear Albert’s voice in the back of her head: “See? It’s a safety concern and only when the community members make their voices heard can we address issues like this.” She noticed that his flier on the telephone pole about the neighborhood speeder was now covered by a multitude of ‘Lost Pet’ posters stapled all over. She frowned and thought back to the Neighborhood Watch leader.

  It was nice that Albert thought he could make a difference, Gemma mused, but she spent too many futile years trying to campaign for new books, classroom supplies and parent involvement. She knew how to spot a losing battle from a mile away. Being a martyr didn’t do any good if it the sacrifice didn’t actually further the cause.

  So, even though it was a nuisance to find the keyhole in her twenty year-old Ford Escort, it wasn’t enough of an inconvenience that she was ready to storm City Hall about it. Like most of Gemma’s neighbors, Albert just had too much time on his hands and was looking for somewhere positive to direct that energy. She knew she shouldn’t make fun of him, even if it was just to herself.

  The shrill cry of a cat fight a few streets down made the hairs on Gemma’s arm stand at attention. Her heart raced as another howl of antagonism pierced the quiet night. She took a deep breath and exhaled as she climbed into her well-loved vehicle; there was nothing to get paranoid about. Animals fought all the time…

  But what about all of those missing pets?

  She rolled her eyes, inwardly scolding herself for giving too much weight to the words of a gossiping old man. She knew better. Gemma took a moment to clear her head; there were too many things out of place lately. Isabel’s absence only propelled her concern into the stratosphere.

  She tried to tell herself that she was over-reacting. Without thinking about it, she turned the key in the ignition and pulled out onto the street, her eyes trained on the rear-view mirror. She couldn’t shake this feeling that something was out there, something important. Her intuition wasn’t exactly telling her to turn heel and run, but it was definitely telling her to sit up and take notice.

  The drive to Isabel’s was slow and methodical. There was no reason to work herself up into a frenzy about hypothetical situations. Gemma definitely considered Isabel a very close friend, but that didn’t necessarily mean that the other woman shared the sentiment. There could be a thousand explanations for the missed calls and curt text messages.

  The Escort slowed to a stop a couple of houses down from Izzy’s. Gemma wondered if she was overstepping her boundaries by snooping around. In her mind, she was doing the right thing; checking on a friend, making sure everything was okay, asking if there was anything she could do — that’s how she was raised. She knew that not everyone shared the same upbringing, though. What could be considered thoughtful by one neighbor could be interpreted as nosy or overbearing by another.

  The thought of losing Izzy’s friendship for being too attached made Gemma take pause. She’d never been the type to have many friends so she wanted to be sure not to mess this one up. Moving to a new town was hard enough — being in a new town with no friends would be torture.

  She sat in her car for a few minutes, fidgeting with the keys as she tried to talk herself out of imposing on her friend’s privacy. Her leg shook with anxiety as she mulled over her real motivations. Was she really just purely concerned for Izzy’s safety, or was she just bored and lonely?

  It all factored in for sure; it was better to be safe than sorry, Gemma decided. If everything at Izzy’s was okay, they would both have a laugh about her Nancy Drew theatrics.

  Her feet took her from the safety of her car, down the dark sidewalk, towards Isabel’s home. The snap of a twig breaking made Gemma stop in her tracks; she wasn’t the only one sneaking around Izzy’s. Someone — or something — shuffled across the front lawn. She wasn’t in the position to see anything, still a house away from her intended destination.

  She heard far more in the still night than she’d be able to see anyway. Leaves rustling, the front steps creaking, a test of the door…

  Gemma’s heart thundered in her chest as she peered around the neighbor’s fence to look at Izzy’s modest little cottage. The lights from the street did little to illuminate the figure that investigated the exterior of the house. Gemma took a few steps closer, being careful to keep her distance and stay hidden in the shadows.

  She wiped her clammy hands on the worn denim of her jeans, trying to convince herself to calm down as the large man continued to try to open each of Izzy’s windows. Calling the police was only a fleeting thought in Gemma’s mind; her cell phone was in the car and if someone was trying to break in, the police wouldn’t ever get there in time to stop him.

  The hairs on the back of Gemma’s neck stood on end; she knew she should be terrified for her life, but still her feet inched her closer.

  The shadowy man reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. The next thing she knew, the front door to Izzy’s home swung open and the man entered with one last look around. His eyes skated over her and Gemma held her breath, so sure that he’d seen her.

  Trembling and telling herself she should turn and run, Gemma persevered. The man disappeared within the darkness of Isabel’s seemingly abandoned house and Gemma hurried to follow him in.

  The stranger didn’t close the door all the way and it swung open slowly on its hinges revealing the interior. Gemma wondered where all of the neighborhood gossips were now when there was actually something scandalous going on. It figured that she would be all on her own now, without a witness if anything went down.

  You’re a big girl, she reminded herself, put on your big girl panties and go figure out what’s going on.

  Yes, it was foolish. Yes, it was probably dangerous. But, even considering all of that, Gemma just couldn’t resist the pull of the mystery surrounding Izzy. Who was this strange man? What was he doing breaking into Izzy’s house? Should she confront him? What if he had a weapon? Would he even need a weapon? He looked to be considerably larger than her, both in height and bulk and could easily overpower her.

  Perhaps she should just call the police and hope that all was well.

  Still, her feet pulled her forward, into the house. A floorboard creaked underfoot and Gemma didn’t know if she caused it or if the other person had. She held her breath for a moment, hoping he wouldn’t come investigate.

  When the coast seemed clear, she continued onward, trying to figure out what the man was doing in Izzy’s house without being detected by him.

  Of all the stupid things you’ve done Gemma Marie Fellings, this has to take the cake, she scolded herself as she peeked around the doorway that led into the kitchen.

  The shadow was getting closer, growing larger. She was sure that she’d been spotted, but before he was completely in view, she scrambled to find a place to hide, her heart racing in her chest, thumping wildly in her eardrums.

  Footsteps grow closer and she held her breath for fear of detection. She pressed her back against the wall, only the barest sliver of light peering through the crack of the pantry door she cowered behind.

  She couldn’t hear anything for a moment; then in a thunderous roar her pulse raced through her veins drowning everything else out. His shadow darkened the crack of the door and Gemma closed her eyes tight, wishing more than anything in the world to teleport away from here.

  Chapter 3

  The empty house felt so creepy; everything was quiet and still in its place. Izzy’s coffee mug was still in the sink, laundry was still in the machine and the kitchen table was littered with dried petal
s that had long since fallen from the once charming bouquet at the table’s center.

  Something was definitely wrong, but Carson just couldn’t place his finger on it. Truth be told, he didn’t really know his sister’s habits too well, but he didn’t think she would just up and leave without telling so much as her employer.

  Isabel had always been the good girl. The one to keep her nose to the grindstone and work hard while no one paid her any attention. Carson took the opposite role: he was the trouble-maker, always finding himself in a sticky spot, needing his baby sister to bail him out. After a while, Izzy decided she’d had enough of it and cut Carson out of her life completely.

  He took the opportunity to straighten himself out a bit. He still found himself in the occasional awkward spot, but more often than not, he came out unscathed. It had been years since they’d spoken, but Carson always kept a close eye on Izzy. Whether she liked it or not, he was always going to be her protective older brother. It was his job to make sure she was safe and taking care of herself.

  He’d apparently failed in his duties. He tried to be subtle in how he checked on Izzy. He didn’t want to draw her ire anymore than he already had. Carson was sure that she’d wished him death a hundred times. No need to give her a reason to make that a hundred and one. It only came to his attention the day before that Isabel hadn’t been to work in nearly a week. As far as Carson knew, she enjoyed her job and didn’t have any reasons to desert it.

  Of course, Carson didn’t know that much about her life. He didn’t know any of his sister’s friends or even if she had a boyfriend or not. He tried his best to keep up to date on her life, but sometimes his own got in the way.

  He’d been on alert long before learning about Izzy’s disappearance. Carson knew that something weird was going on in his hometown. Some of his neighbors were acting strange, there was a sudden surge in vandalism and petty crimes and something in the air just felt wrong.

  He couldn’t place his finger on it, though, so Carson hadn’t taken the time to voice his concerns with any of his friends. There was no reason to alarm others if it was all in his head. A deep breath had Carson’s nostrils twitching. It was strange — the moment he entered Izzy’s house, everything seemed more vivid. He smelled everything from the passion fruit dish soap to the sweet decaying scent of potted plants in need of water. There was something else… something soft and sweet he couldn’t place.