Night rain slicks the windows as the train hums toward a border no one can see. On that train, a backpacker named Theo dozes, lulled by the clatter of wheels and the scent of damp wool. At the next stop, his seat is warm, and empty.
In the aisle, languages shift, but the sound of dread is universal. Weeks later, along a coastal road that splits two towns, a strange pattern emerges. Identical p...
