The Travelers: Book One (8 page)

Chapter 9

Hours later, Gemma awoke from her nap feeling like she’d had a full night’s sleep. She reached for her phone and realized she still didn’t have it. It would probably be dead by now anyway. She definitely needed to go home to refresh and grab some essentials if she was going to be hanging out for a while.

The thought caught her off-guard. Why would she stick around? She had her own house not far away. There was no real reason to stay in the clubhouse. Except…

She had to admit that she liked being around everyone; so much of her time since Izzy’s disappearance had been spent in solitude and she wasn’t really used to being alone. She was used to being surrounded by three dozen hormonal children. She didn’t know how to handle alone time.

With a big stretch and a yawn, she navigated her way back downstairs, eager to see what everyone had found in her absence.

“Wow! That was a quick nap,” Ty said from behind his wall of monitors.

“Was it? How long was I out for?” Gemma asked, reassembling the bun in her hair.

“Three hours
maybe
,” Ty answered.

“Whoa. It felt like twenty. I guess I wasn’t as tired as I seemed,” she answered proudly.

“Guess so,” he replied, the computer’s glare reflected in his thin-framed glasses.

“Where is everyone?” Gemma asked, realizing they were on their own.

“Aaron and Dez went out looking for whatever they could find… I think Trick said he was going to check out her house again, they should all be back pretty soon.”

Gemma nodded without another word and took it upon herself to start looking around the giant open space they called the clubhouse.

It had everything a guy could dream of; like a frat house built by billionaires. She remembered Aaron saying that it was all Desmond’s and thought that was odd. She couldn’t quite make sense of the two opposing images of the kind of man that would own a property like this and the giant of a man covered in neon orange powder that she’d met a few hours ago. How could they possibly be the same person?

Never judge a book by its cover, Gemma,
she scolded herself.

“Hey,” Ty piped up after a few minutes of silence, “when was the last time you received contact from Izzy’s phone?”

Gemma nibbled on her lower lip, trying to count back the days.

“Oh, she said she lost her phone the last time I saw her. I never heard if she got a new one or not…”

Ty frowned, actually looking up from his screen to stare off into space for a few minutes.

“It’s just not adding up. I’ve done consulting on missing person’s cases before and this is anything but text book.” His eyes still focused on some far off space that Gemma couldn’t see.

“So, you haven’t found anything?” She asked, crestfallen.

He sighed, removing his glasses to rub his eyes, postponing the confirmation of her worries.

“I’ve done what I can. I set up monitors on her identity and any aliases I think she might try to use. There’s not much history to really go on. Unfortunately, Hannaford Glen hasn’t caught up to everyone else with traffic cameras yet, or I’d have facial recognition set up to track her.”

He saw the hope drain from Gemma’s eyes and instantly felt a pang of regret for being so honest with her.

“Don’t worry though; I’m not the only brains in this operation. I’d be surprised if Aaron and Dez don’t find something.”

Gemma nodded, trying to find reassurance in his words. She wanted to believe him, but she didn’t know any of them well enough to have much faith.

Right on cue, the door opened admitting Aaron and Desmond back into the clubhouse.

“Holy shit!” Aaron said, his eyes wide and unfocused.

Gemma turned toward them, her heart beating wildly; what had they seen?

“It’s crazy out there!” Aaron finished.

“What do you mean?” Ty asked, pushing his chair back from the desk.

“The whole industrial ward is overrun… Carson’s definitely not wrong about whatever is going on out there. It’s a madhouse. I wouldn’t be surprised if they called in the National Guard,” he answered, his voice shaking as he stumbled his way to the bar for a drink.

Ty turned his eyes toward Dez, raising his eyebrows in a silent question. Dez shrugged in response, but Gemma didn’t know what the exchange meant.

“It’s like the Police Station…” she muttered, drawing all attention to her.

“What happened at the Police Station?” Trick asked, walking in from the apartment side.

With all eyes trained on her again, Gemma took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Carson wasn’t here now to calm her; he couldn’t be her rock to lean on when he was upstairs snoozing. She was going to have to be her own support and just bite the bullet.

She launched into the retelling of the chaos they’d experienced earlier. The men listened with rapt attention and by the time she’d finished, they had plenty of questions. She filled in what she knew, but they all still ended with more questions than answers.

Her story sent Ty and Trick into a titter over possibilities, theories, conspiracies and the like. Everything from biochemical warfare to a zombie apocalypse was suggested as an explanation. Gemma didn’t have anything to add to their discussion and her eyes wandered over to Aaron who had resumed his seat at the bar, nursing a drink.

“Mind if I join you?” She asked, sliding into the seat next to him.

“Uh,” he grunted, swirling the amber contents of his glass around, seemingly mesmerized by the eddies the liquor created.

She took that to be a ‘yes’ and grabbed her own glass and a splash of liquid from his bottle. She took a sip and quickly sputtered, coughing and making disgusted faces.

“What’s in there? Jet fuel?”

Aaron chuckled, still staring deep into his glass like he was gazing into another world.

“Hey,” she said, nudging him with her elbow, “are you worried about Izzy?”

His golden eyes flicked up to meet hers, a hint of a shimmer returning to them.

“No. Well… yes, of course I am, but it’s not that…”

“Then what?” Gemma asked, testing the waters of his boundaries.

He hesitated and she could almost see him building the walls up to keep her out.

“No judgment,” she said, “I just want us all to have our head in the game to do our best for Izzy,” she fibbed. Of course she wanted to find Izzy, but she thought that the subtle manipulation would be enough to get Aaron to open up a little; she wasn’t wrong.

“Just being out there…” he said with a sigh, finishing his drink before pouring another. He regretted every drop of liquor the instant it passed his lips, but what choice did he have? This wasn’t something he knew how to deal with. They didn’t have boot camp to train you to be a normal person again.

“It was like being in a warzone all over again,” he muttered his eyes dull and haunted with past memories.

Gemma frowned, resting a hand on his forearm; all of his muscles were tensed, ready to spring into action.

“You were in the military?” she asked, her voice softening with sudden realization.

“Army,” he answered. “You know… I have to constantly remind myself that I’m not there; I don’t have to be worried about IEDs and little kids hiding AKs. But… whatever is out there is changing that. I just wanted out…”

His voice cracked and he cleared his throat loudly before downing the rest of his drink. He took a deep breath and slammed the glass down on the bar.

“You’re right though. I need to have my head in the game for Izzy. I owe her that much.”

Gemma wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but he was already pushing himself away from the bar, a slight wobble in his movements. He was probably a little more intoxicated than he wanted to admit, but Gemma didn’t think it was her place to say anything about it.

She wanted to say something to make him feel better, she wished she had the words to comfort him, but Aaron didn’t seem to think he was worthy of comforting. He continued to sulk, eavesdropping on Trick and Ty and occasionally offering his two cents to the topic at hand.

Not really knowing what to do with herself to be useful, Gemma started to drift off into thought. She just couldn’t make sense of the jumble of things going on around her. People were going crazy all over town, Izzy was missing, and there was the strange man at the bar… but none of it seemed to fit together. Like Ty said, none of this was how it should be and that only made it more frustrating.

She couldn’t have been lost in thought for more than an hour when Carson made his way down the stairs, bleary-eyed but looking refreshed.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Trick teased.

“Is it? How long was I out for?”

Ty rolled his eyes, “No, it’s not morning. It’s…” his eyes darted to the corner of his computer screen, “7:22.”

Carson looked surprised, but didn’t say anything more about the time.

“All right, so what have we found out?”

It wasn’t long before the rest of the gang filled Carson in on everything he’d missed and they were all on the same page again.

“So, this is way bigger than some convict uprising at the precinct,” Carson stated, massaging his temples as if he were trying to coax his brain to fit the pieces together.

“I’m still sticking with my zombie apocalypse theory,” Trick said, crossing his arms in front of his chest resolutely.

Carson shook his head, his eyes narrowing in annoyance.

“They’re not zombies. Gemma and I saw them up close; they weren’t after our brains.”

Trick rolled his eyes, a sneer of distaste crossing his usually-jovial features.

“That’s such a narrow of view of what zombies are all about man. This isn’t the 1970s any more, Grandpa,” he quipped.

Carson slammed his fist on the table, drawing everyone’s gaze to him.

“This isn’t a fucking joke, Trick. This is my sister that’s missing.”

Trick withdrew into himself, not appreciating the public scolding. He didn’t have a witty retort or a snappy comeback, though. He just sank into his seat and pressed his lips together in a mixture of barely-contained anger and sulking.

If Carson noticed Trick’s reaction, he didn’t say anything; Ty was the one to speak instead.

“You know… if I didn’t know any better…”

“What?” Aaron asked his palms on the table in front of him, braced for action.

Gemma found it hard to concentrate on the conversation. They kept snapping at each other and having arguments about nothing. Everything that was mentioned seemed to get derailed by some kind of personal pet peeve.

“There hasn’t been an outbreak of this magnitude in… well, I don’t know… maybe ever?” Ty muttered, scratching the orange stubble on his cheek.

“What are you going on about?” Carson asked, his hands clenching with impatience.

“It would be impossible to know without a sample of some kind,” Ty answered without making eye contact with any of the confused people surrounding him.

“In English, Einstein?” Dez prompted, chugging his third syrupy energy drink in a handful of minutes.

Ty sighed, raking his fingers through his hair.

“Well, I don’t want anyone jumping to conclusions, but the symptoms you’ve described sound like… rabies.”

Chapter 10

“Rabies?!”

“Is that even still a thing?” Trick asked.

“Isn’t that what killed Old Yeller?” Desmond asked, his eyes sad with the memory.

“No, doofus, Old Yeller was shot,” Trick teased.

“Well… because he had rabies,” Gemma corrected, trying to get them back on track again; she could see Carson glowering out of the corner of her eye and knew that his patience with them wouldn’t last for long if they didn’t get back to business.

“Still, that was a really long time ago…” Trick added, pouting again.

Ty scratched his chin thoughtfully.

“Well, that’s why I’m hesitant to draw conclusions… Human cases aren’t unheard of, but they’re fairly uncommon. Most people nowadays are vaccinated… For numbers this large, it would have to be mutated or weaponized.” He didn’t look satisfied with his explanation, but at the moment it was the best they had.

“Who would want to unleash a virus on Hannaford Glen?” Gemma asked, her mind not fully accepting what Ty said.

“Well… Motive is something I’m stuck on. I’m not sure what this could accomplish other than mass hysteria.”

Before he had the chance to elaborate on his thoughts anymore, a loud shrill sound — similar to an air horn — emanated from his computer bank.

“What’s that?” Carson asked, springing to action before Ty had a chance to respond.

Ty took his time wandering over to his computer, looking at the screen over the edge of his glasses.

“I got a hit on Isabel’s credit card,” he answered.

“What? Where?” Carson hurried over to Ty’s side with Aaron as his shadow.

Everyone gathered around Ty who shifted on his feet, not really comfortable with the crowd around him.

He pulled up a satellite image of the town and a glowing red pin point pulsated on the north east corner of the map.

“What is she doing over there? She couldn’t pick a worse part of town,” Aaron muttered before breaking off from the group to gather some supplies.

“What are you doing?” Carson asked as Aaron practically sprinted from one side of the room to the other grabbing odds and ends.

“We’re going to get her, aren’t we?”

Ty frowned, typing away frantically on his keyboard.

“Just because her credit card is there doesn’t mean she is, Aaron,” he reminded as gently as he could.

“And I don’t remember inviting you,” Carson added.

Aaron wasn’t having any part of it. His thumb fingered the edge of his pocket knife before he slipped it into his pocket and turned on his best friend.

“I wasn’t waiting for an invitation.”

Gemma took a step back; the prickling electricity between the two men was nearly tangible and she didn’t trust the burning embers of anger in either of their eyes.

She placed her hand on Carson’s arm, wincing as she did; she didn’t know why she expected him to swing on her. He tensed the muscles in his forearm and turned his eyes down toward her.

“Why don’t we all go look for her?” Gemma suggested, not wanting to step on any body’s toes.

“Who knows what we’ll run into; the more hands the better,” she added, her eyes searching his for a glimmer of understanding.

It took Carson a moment to shake off the ferocious protective instinct that came over him. He and Aaron had been brothers for years and years; he shouldn’t even be thinking twice about Aaron’s reaction to Izzy’s disappearance, but something didn’t sit well with him. He couldn’t ignore the feeling that Aaron knew more than he was saying and anyone that was keeping information from him was just standing in his way.

“Fine,” he ground out, wrenching his arm free of Gemma’s soothing touch.

He looked around at his friends, each one was already mobilized and ready to go.

“You guys can stay here…” he said, knowing the words were futile.

Dez swung a jumbled mass of keys around his meaty fingers, silently making his point.

Ty unhooked his laptop from the hub and tucked it under his arm, falling into place with the rest of the group as Desmond led the way to his garage.

Gemma didn’t have time to pick her jaw up off the floor as she followed everyone; she didn’t know what she should expect by now, but she shouldn’t be surprised that Desmond’s garage could pass for an auto showroom floor.

None of the others seemed bothered by the extravagance, so Gemma kept her mouth shut and kept in line with everyone else.

Carson’s feet hit the concrete with more force than necessary. He didn’t appreciate the entourage. As much as he loved and appreciated his best friends, there were some things that a man had to take care of on his own. Family was one of those things.

Still, Gemma did have a point: there was safety in numbers. They still didn’t really have any idea what was going on out there. If Ty was right… well, Carson just hoped they weren’t too late. The hit on her credit card gave him hope; he didn’t want to acknowledge what side of town they were headed to, even as Dez navigated the massive SUV through the dim streets.

His friends’ voices were distant and muffled under the raging current of his blood. He couldn’t stop conjuring images of Izzy in terrible situations. He didn’t want to think she’d gotten involved with drug fiends or infected with a mysterious outbreak. The ever-present thrum of guilt crested, making his stomach clench with pain — if something did happen to her and he hadn’t been there to protect her…

A soft touch on his arm brought his attention up to her bronze gaze; her eyes twinkled with unspoken understanding. She was trying to ground him — trying to keep him from getting lost within himself. How did Gemma know just when to pull him from the brink? It was unsettling.

Ty hammered away on the keys next to him, pinpointing the location of Izzy’s ping.

“Left here, then a quick right. The bodega’s on the right,” he instructed.

Carson’s hands clenched and unclenched reflexively. His heart thundered and his eyes darted from window to window. Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary for this part of town. There were handfuls of people loitering on street corners, but that wasn’t unusual.

Dez pulled to a smooth stop at the curb and Carson climbed over Gemma to scramble out ahead of everyone else.

“Carson —” Aaron faltered, his hand fumbling for the door handle.

Gemma pressed herself into the side of the car, letting the men file out ahead of her to avoid being trampled.

“Where is she?” Gemma heard Carson roar. She stumbled over the curb, trying to catch up to the rest of them.

The frightened Pakistani man behind the counter pointed down the street. Like a pack of wild dogs, the men all turned their eyes to the figure at the corner, his arms laden with the bounty of goods he’d purchased with Isabel’s credit card.

Carson wasted no time leaping into action. The bags dropped from the man’s arms as he realized he was the target of Carson’s laser-point focus. Glass shattered as the brown paper impacted the pavement — even half a block away the pungent stench of whiskey was unmistakable.

“Carson!” He heard a chorus of people calling after him, but his body propelled him forward.

Amongst the carnage of broken bottles and torn bags, Carson spotted Isabel’s smiling face on her ID. He stooped to pick it up, not minding the glass as he picked the card free from the rubble. He examined the card for a moment, a wave of nausea washing through him as his eyes connected with hers. He lifted his head and only saw the blur of the man running from him.

Aaron was at his side — he was saying something — Carson didn’t hear him.

The next thing he knew, he was on top of the stranger.

His knuckles impacted the man’s jaw with a sickening crack.

“Where did you get this?” He growled, shoving the ID in the man’s bloodied face.

He struggled to stand; Carson used his weight to keep him pinned to the pavement.

“Fuck off!” The man grunted, raising his knee into Carson’s stomach.

The air left Carson’s lungs all at once, forcing him to roll off the man to catch his breath.

The stranger stood to flee, but Carson’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the ankle.

His face hit the pavement with a loud crunch and Carson was on top of him again.

“Tell me where my sister is, fucker!”

Aaron had once again caught up to them and reached for Carson’s collar.

“Get off of him!” Aaron shouted.

Carson pulled against his grasp, the sound of threads snapping was deafening in his ear as his shirt ripped at the seam.

“I just found those! I don’t know where she is, man!” The man shouted as he rolled to avoid another punch.

The commotion was starting to draw a crowd.

“Carson, come on! She’s not here!” Aaron called, his voice barely making it through the jeers and taunts being hurled at the brawling pair.

The onlookers were getting restless. The fight was in the air.

Gemma stood on her toes, trying to see over the gathering crowd. When she couldn’t see, she tried to nudge her way into the inner circle, but a strong arm around her waist caught her and pulled her back.

She struggled against the arm grasping her until her eyes connected with Trick’s.

“Stop,” he said.

Gemma wanted to protest. She still tried to push him away, but her attempts were only half-hearted.

“But he needs to get out of there!” She shrieked, watching in horror as the crowd started to close in on her new friends.

Trick pulled her back again, lifting her off her feet for a split-second.

“You’re not going to be able to help them Gemma,” he said, a stern look in his eyes.

“Go back to the truck with Ty,” said Trick before diving into the melee himself.

Ty reached for her hand and tugged her away from the fight. She heard bones breaking like twigs snapping underfoot and the sidewalk was spattered with bright red smears of blood.

“We’re not the fighting types, Gemma,” said Ty, ushering her into the car.

“It’s okay, you’ll be useful somewhere else. There’s no reason for you to get dragged into that.”

He started the car and zoomed down the street where Trick and Aaron hopped in right away.

“Where’s Car—” Gemma started.

Before she fully voiced her question, it was answered.

Desmond appeared, hefting Carson over his shoulders and through the crowd. He tossed his friend into the truck and jumped in the passenger seat.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Dez said.

Ty’s foot didn’t waste any time finding the accelerator.

Gemma didn’t even register that they were moving. Carson laid across her lap, groaning and bleeding. His face was already purpling with a monster black eye and a massive gash on his arm steadily dribbled blood onto the top of Gemma’s foot.

“Carson! Are you okay?” she asked, brushing his hair away from his face to better examine him.

“What the fuck
was
that?” asked Trick.

“That’s what we saw downtown,” said Aaron.

“And at the police station,” said Gemma.

Carson groaned and clutched the bite mark in his arm.

“Well, it looks like I’ll be able to get that sample I wanted,” Ty said, looking a bit squeamish around all of the blood.

Gemma looked around the car and saw that almost every man bore some injury for helping their friend. She still couldn’t understand what had come over Carson, though.

Trick was on his knees, looking out the back window of the vehicle at the receding crowd.

“They just came out of nowhere!” He said.

Ty nodded, glancing in the rear-view mirror as he drove back to the clubhouse.

“They seemed to be attracted to the violence,” he answered.

“Blood thirsty,” Aaron said, his face ghostly pale.

“I don’t know,” said Trick, “it looked an awful lot like a zombie apocalypse to me…”

“Which means you think Carson is infected now?” Aaron asked, poking a hole in Trick’s explanation.

“Well, no, he’s not infected. Then we would have to shoot him.”

“No one is shooting ANYBODY,” Gemma yelled, a tremor of hysteria creeping into her voice.

She didn’t know how they could continue to bicker like little children when Carson lay in agony across the backseat.

“Can we just not worry about all of that right now and just worry about making sure Carson is okay?” she said, feeling like the last sane person alive.

“Yeah.”

“You’re right.”

“Sorry,” they said in unison.

Gemma had just enough time to take a deep breath before they were back at the clubhouse.

“Wait, don’t you think we should take him to the hospital?” she asked, thinking that the injury on his arm alone warranted stitches at the very least.

“No,” said Desmond.

She was getting ready to launch her debate, but Aaron spoke up to intercept her.