Vanishing Hitchhiker Novels & Stories

The man said. Without another word but thank you and goodbye, we grabbed all we have an I shifted to my wolf. So did Drake and Demiana. Charlie decided to ride on his uncle while Lilith settled on Demiana, her mother ever since. When we looked for Hunter's body, we were stunned immediately as he mysteriously disappeared. It was like his body had faded away and turned into dust blown away by the rustling wind. Nonetheless, we gathered our bearings and decided to head off. Silently pondering over how Hunter's body can really disappear just like that.

I breathed. “Keep watching,” Hilda muttered. She swiped, pulling up another feed. “Okay… okay, yeah. They took a right on 12th.” She kept skipping from feed to feed, her cousin must’ve been working his ass off in the background. It was like a horrible video game—trying to keep the van in sight while the clock ticked down. Every time the screen flickered and the van appeared again, I felt like I could breathe. Every time it didn’t, my stomach sank like a stone.

He had chosen not to pick up. His low, hoarse voice. The soft panting. The way his breath caught before he ended the call. Every detail painted a vivid picture of him and Mara together, far away in Veyra Falls. I doubled over, retching up nothing but burning acid. My tears wouldn't stop falling. I curled up on the couch, hugging myself tight, as if I could squeeze out even a scrap of comfort. Then someone knocked on the door. I wiped my face, dragged myself up, and opened it.

It’s going to be a long night… I parked my car across the main entrance of The Vintage, shaking my head at the crowd and unusual amount of reporters, swarming The Vintage. It’s an awfully chilly night although it’s the middle of summer, zipping up my black hoodie, I pocketed my keys before pushing through the swarm reporters and entering the large building. As I had been walking through the entrance, I heard the reporters talking amongst themselves about the mysterious disappearance of the Hudson twins causing my eyes to widen. What the hell? The disappearance of the Hudson twins?

Come. The creature spread its arms. The shadows around it thickened, coalescing into shapes: more figures, half-formed, faces flickering between Mamá, Marco, Alexander, me. An army of fragments, birthed from the seed. Lila’s voice cracked over the comms: “Evac chopper inbound… three minutes!” Three minutes. The creature tilted its head again. “Too late.” It vanished. Not walked. Not ran. One moment it was there, the next, gone. The shadows collapsed inward, the crater exhaled a final plume of ash, and the hook in my chest snapped taut.

Tracking Travis ended up being less difficult than they would have imagined. It turned out he was a straightforward sort of a Vampire. He basically seemed to stick to Highway 89 as he approached the Crazies and there were plenty of accounts of seeing a suspicious character, as well as the body of one elderly drifter that never made the evening news.

Emma's heart was racing as they emerged onto the street, the bright sunlight a stark contrast to the dimly lit station. They dodged pedestrians and cars, their pursuers hot on their heels. Emma's breath was coming in short gasps as they ran, her eyes scanning the street for any sign of escape. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a black van pull up to the curb. The side door slid open, and a figure leaned out. "In," the figure said, beckoning to them. Emma hesitated for a split second before grabbing Julian's arm and pulling him towards the van. They leapt inside just as the door closed behind them, the van speeding away from the curb before they even hit the floor.

“There have been other disappearances this past year, a recent one very similar to this. A month ago, seven-year-old Anne Marie Hauer from Utica vanished from her bedroom. No forced entry, no forensic evidence. She’s just GONE, like Timmy Danvers. “And you know what, fellas? I’m tired of this. I really am. All the time, you act as if you don’t know anything, that you’re just as mystified as me, like everyone else in this town. But I call, fellas. I call BULLSHIT.”

The helicopter rose into the night sky, the rotors chopping the air into a deafening rhythm. Below us, the Vane headquarters was a torch, a pillar of fire lighting up the London skyline. The sub-basement lab was gone, incinerated by Marcus’s charges. Arthur, Evelyn, the experiments—all reduced to ash and memory. I sat in the back, the unconscious girl—Zero—draped across my lap. She was shivering, her skin pale as milk, her wet hair clinging to her neck like dark seaweed.

It was the exhaustion of survival. I sat there, holding his hand long after he’d drifted back to sleep, staring at the storm-light playing across his face. Vincent thought he’d broken us. He didn’t understand — pain had been our language from the beginning. But love… love was the defiance that refused to die. --- The next morning, I met with Detective Harris in the hallway. His face was grim, his tone clipped. “We traced the car Vincent used. It was abandoned near the docks. He’s vanished.”