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  Jacker tipped the glass in Stephen’s direction and said, “Thanks.” It was obvious that he was thankful for more than the beer.

  Stephen sat down and leaned back until the top of his chair rested against the wall. “Let’s talk about Widowsfield.”

  “No, no, no,” said Rachel. “Let’s save it for the show.”

  Stephen let his chair drop back down and then crossed his arms. He nodded his head as if coming to the conclusion that his wife was right. “Okay, fine. But let’s at least go over the agenda.”

  “Okay,” said Rachel.

  “If we leave tomorrow morning we can get there before dark,” said Stephen. “I figure we should stay the night in Branson, which is about forty miles from Widowsfield. Then, on Monday morning, we’ll head out to the old Main Street. It’s a ghost town now. We can do some filming there, and get a bunch of b-roll, that’s just exterior shots that we’ll use to fill in places for the actual show. It’ll give us a chance to explore some of the more famous spots around town.”

  “What spots are those?” asked Alma.

  “Well, like I said, there’re a lot of theories about what happened,” said Stephen. “There was a UPS truck in the area at the time, and the driver disappeared just like everyone else. The guy wasn’t from Widowsfield, so it’s unlikely he was tied to the meth ring. His truck was found on Main Street, outside of a used book store. We can go there, and check out the store.”

  “And then there’s the hill,” said Rachel.

  “Right,” Stephen pointed at her as he nodded. “Some of the teenagers from the area go to a hill that overlooks a farm near Widowsfield. It’s kind of a make-out spot for the kids, but a lot of them have reported seeing a cloud appear over the field, filled with green light, and then suddenly disappear.”

  “I’ve seen some videos of that shit online,” said Jacker. He was getting infected with Stephen’s enthusiasm about the project.

  “Right,” said Stephen. “It’s creepy, isn’t it?”

  “Fuck yeah it is,” said Jacker.

  “I want to go spend the night on the hill,” said Stephen.

  “Surrounded my teenagers making out in their cars?” asked Rachel with a grimace, as if this was the first she’d heard of this plan. “Are you serious?”

  “I don’t think they’re out there every night,” said Stephen.

  “I think you just want to catch a glimpse of some teen girls’ boobs.” Rachel crossed her arms and smirked as she chided her husband.

  “That’d be cool too,” said Stephen.

  “Could I make a suggestion?” Alma was still timid around their hosts, and she had to force herself to speak up to be heard over them as they playfully argued.

  Rachel and Stephen turned their attention to Alma. “Sure,” said Stephen as if surprised that Alma felt like she had to ask permission.

  Alma’s hands were shaking and she hid them under the table. “I’d like to go to the cabin first.”

  “Which cabin?” asked Stephen.

  “The one that my father used to take us to. It’s near the elementary school, on the edge of town.” Alma looked down at her trembling hands and stilled them between her bony knees. “The last time I was there was with my mother, and I had a…” She stopped and struggled to continue. The others stayed silent as she battled with herself to recount any details of what happened. She felt like tears were about to spring from her eyes. She shook her head, trying to break the odd, sudden emotion, and took a long, deep breath. “That’s when I remembered my brother again.”

  Rachel was quick to ask a question, uninhibited by Alma’s obvious emotion. “What do you mean? You didn’t remember him before that?”

  Alma shook her head and continued to look down. “No. Something happened that day, in Widowsfield, when the cloud came through. I just forgot him. Not just what happened with him that day, but everything about him. It was like he didn’t exist. When my father and I got home, I saw pictures of him in our house, but I didn’t know who he was. My mother was furious and kept showing us pictures of my brother to prove he existed, and eventually called the police on my father. It was the worst day of my life. The cops interviewed me for hours and kept showing pictures of Ben and me together, but I didn’t remember any of it.”

  “Wow,” said Stephen as he leaned forward, his elbows perched on the table, to listen intently to what Alma was saying. “How did you end up remembering?”

  “At first, I thought I started to remember him, but it was really just a trick of the brain.” Alma felt Paul’s hands on her shoulders and leaned her head back into his stomach as he stood behind her. She was thankful he was there to comfort her, and she suddenly realized that she couldn’t do this without him. “Have you ever heard about the study they did on childhood memories where they Photoshopped pictures of people together in a hot air balloon?”

  Everyone shook their head, so Alma explained. “They would take a picture of a father and son, and put them in a hot air balloon even though they’d never gone in one before. Then they’d show the people a bunch of pictures of their childhood, most of them real, and the hot air balloon picture would be mixed in with the real ones. Afterward, they asked about the events in the pictures, and almost every time the patients talked about their trip in a hot air balloon with their father. They made up their own experience, and thought of it as real.”

  “Hold on.” Rachel got up and rushed into the kitchen. She came back moments later with a pad and pencil and was furiously scribbling. Then she sat back down with the pencil, ready to write more. “Okay, go on.”

  “Do you always have to take notes?” asked Stephen with a laugh.

  “Yeah,” said Rachel matter-of-factly. “I’m a reporter; it’s what I do. Go on, Alma.”

  “Anyhow, I think that’s what happened with me. I saw those photos of me with Ben, and I started to believe in them. I made up a relationship with my brother, even though I couldn’t remember that he ever existed. Then I went to Widowsfield with my mother, and it all changed.”

  “What happened?” asked Rachel. She was quick to respond and was ever vigilant with her pencil, ready to take down every bit of information that Alma was willing to divulge.

  “Chaos Magick,” said Stephen, and his response surprised everyone at the table. “Am I right?”

  Alma nodded. “Yes. You mentioned it at the restaurant too. How did you know about that?”

  “I’ve been researching you for a long time, Alma,” said Stephen. Then he smirked and sat back. “Not to sound too creepy or anything. I’ve been looking into supernatural stories all around the country, trying to figure out which one would make a good first feature for our site. That’s when I discovered that you lived near us. Once we figured that out, we knew it was Widowsfield that we wanted to focus on first.”

  Alma was confused as she thought about what Stephen was saying. “Then why didn’t you come to me first? Why did you go try to find my father first?”

  Rachel and Stephen appeared uncomfortable. Rachel was the first to try and explain. “Well, we wanted to test out our format first, so we went to Philadelphia and did that story on the haunted house. That’s what got everyone buzzing about our site in the first place. Since we were there, we decided to interview your father.”

  Alma thought about it, but still shook her head. “Still though, why wouldn’t you come talk to me first?”

  Neither of them was willing to answer, and it became apparent that they were hiding something. They couldn’t hide their guilt.

  “What’s going on?” asked Alma. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Okay.” Stephen put his hands down on the table as if laying out his hand in a card game. “I’m going to be totally honest with you, because you deserve to know everything.”

  Alma’s heart started to beat faster and her hands clenched into fists. She was getting angry, and she could feel Paul’s grip tighten on her shoulders. He knew how to recognize when she was getting mad.

 
“We’re the ones that pushed for you to get the new classroom at your school.”

  Alma’s anger subsided, and she felt the tension release from her muscles. “What? I don’t get it. Why would you do that?”

  “Well, we knew that we wanted to get to know you better, and we needed a good way to do it. Rachel proposed the story to her network, and they agreed to go along with it. We got the school to sign off on everything, and we set it all up.”

  “I thought it was a PTA thing,” said Alma.

  “It was,” said Rachel. “Blair was great, and she did most of the work. She and the others really adore you, Alma. They loved the idea of setting you up with a new music room.”

  “Then why the subterfuge?” asked Alma. “Why didn’t you just come out and tell me this right away? Why go to all the trouble of setting something like that up? Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you did! I just don’t understand.”

  “I think I do.” Paul spoke with a tinge of anger in his tone. “You said the school signed off on the footage, right?”

  Stephen nodded and looked at Rachel as if silently communicating with her. Alma could see that he was nervous, and knew that Paul had figured something out that she hadn’t as of yet.

  “And I’m willing to bet that means you own the footage now.

  Again, Stephen nodded.

  “What does that mean?” asked Alma. “I still don’t get it.”

  “He owns his own company,” said Paul. “The station hires him as an independent contractor. When the school signed off on the footage, they were giving him full ownership of it. He can use it for anything he wants, including a story on Widowsfield.”

  “But what good would that footage be?” asked Alma. “It was just of me at the school.”

  “The piece would look better if we had shots of you,” said Stephen. “We didn’t want to go that route, but we thought it’d be good to have some footage of you, just in case. And everything worked out for the best. We were able to help pay for a new music room, and we got a chance to meet you.”

  Paul was quick to intercede. “And you dragged her father into this. And you nearly got her killed last night when her father showed up at her apartment.”

  “Oh my God,” said Rachel. “You didn’t tell me about that. What happened?”

  “It’s a long story.” Alma was anxious to avoid the subject. She’d lied to Rachel about what happened to her foot as she limped around all day, and didn’t feel like admitting to that now.

  “She’s too nice to be mad,” said Paul. “But I’m not. You two put her through hell for this. Her dad is a nutcase, and he’s going to do anything he can to keep your story from getting out there.”

  “Paul, it’s okay,” said Alma.

  “No, Alma, it’s not okay,” said Paul. “These two pulled some shady shit here. They put you in danger. They…”

  “Paul,” said Alma as she pulled her shoulders out of his grip. “I can defend myself. I don’t need you fighting my battles for me.”

  He looked like she’d struck him, pained and ashamed.

  “This is getting out of hand.” Stephen stood up and walked over to Alma. He set his hand on Paul’s shoulder, which was an oddly intimate action and Alma saw that it made Paul uncomfortable. “Paul, honestly, I never meant any harm. I swear, man. You guys have been great, and if I did anything to upset you, I’m sorry for it. I’ll help out with your insane dad any way I can.”

  “It’s okay, Stephen,” said Alma and she reached out to take Paul’s hand. She guided it back to her shoulder, and then around her neck as she kissed it. “Paul, sorry I snapped at you.”

  “It’s okay, babe,” said Paul. “This has been a hell of a day.”

  “So, where were we?” asked Alma.

  Rachel looked at her pad of paper and said, “Chaos Magick.”

  “Oh, right,” said Alma. “How did you know about that?”

  “Your father told us about it,” said Stephen as he returned to his seat. “He said that your mother approached him about it.”

  “Really?” asked Alma. “I didn’t know about that.” Stephen’s knowledge of her past made Alma uncomfortable.

  “They were already separated at the time,” said Stephen. “But your mother was obsessed with your brother’s disappearance, and the number 314. She wanted the address of the cabin, and she begged your father to spend some time with her meditating on the symbol for pi in an attempt to remember something about your brother. He refused, and asked her not to force the Chaos Magick on you.”

  “He doesn’t want me to remember what happened,” said Alma. “That’s why I’m going with you. Whatever it was that happened, I need to know.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” said Rachel with a smirk. “Are you saying that this Chaos Magick stuff really worked?”

  “It did for me,” said Alma.

  “See.” Stephen gloated.

  Rachel was unconvinced. “I’m the skeptic of the relationship. It’s hard for me to believe in that sort of stuff.”

  “Same here,” said Alma. “And it very well could’ve been just some mental block for me that I got past when we went to Widowsfield. I’m not saying the Chaos Magick was the reason I remembered everything, but it’s true that I was looking at the symbol for pi when, all of the sudden, all of my memories of Ben came rushing back.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” said Rachel. “It probably had more to do with being in that spot, and actively trying to remember.”

  Stephen chuckled and shook his head. “Or it could be that there’s something to this whole Chaos Magick thing.” He rolled his eyes and pointed at Rachel with his thumb. “She’s never willing to believe anything; a consummate atheist about everything.”

  “I’m a skeptic,” said Rachel. “Isn’t that why you married me?”

  Stephen shook his head. “I married you because you’re super hot.”

  Jacker set his empty beer glass down hard, which rattled the table. He looked embarrassed and apologized.

  “More beer!” Stephen exclaimed as he stood. “That’s what this party needs. Who needs another?”

  “Everyone,” said Paul before quickly pounding his beer.

  “Okay, enough shop talk.” Rachel set her pencil down and stared across the table at Alma. “Time for war, my little Scrabble victim.”

  “Oh crap,” said Stephen with a dejected sigh. “Once she starts, she’ll never stop. Might as well wave goodbye to the girls for the night.”

  Rachel was quick to produce an expensive looking Scrabble board that was made of wood and perched on a swiveling base. She told Alma it was a wedding gift, which Stephen said was the worst gift they received, even worse than the bread maker that they’d never used. Rachel flipped over the page that she’d been taking notes on and drew two columns to tabulate points. Within minutes, they were deep into their first game.

  Paul, Jacker, and Stephen spent some time in the kitchen, drinking and talking about motorcycles while Alma focused on the game. By the fifth turn, she was already losing by a good amount, which forced her to concentrate. Paul tried to ask her something, but she angrily waved him away and hushed him as she stared at her letters.

  “Geeze, babe,” said Paul. “Don’t be grumpy.” He leered over Alma’s shoulder, and she clenched her jaw as she tried to will him away.

  Then he reached out and took one of the letters off the wooden stand where they were perched.

  “Hey,” said Rachel. “No helping.”

  Alma turned, frustrated with Paul for interfering. He’d taken a letter ‘C’ off her stand, and then he reached down and took an ‘A’.

  “What are you doing?” Alma asked, annoyed.

  Paul pointed at the pad of paper that Rachel was keeping score on. “Give me that real quick.”

  Rachel slid the pad over and then Paul asked for the pencil as well. She shrugged and frowned at Alma before rolling the pencil across the table. “What’s up?” she asked.

  Paul set the letter ‘C’ down
first, and then the ‘A’. He pointed at the numbers on the corner of the tiles, a 3 and a 1. “The third letter in the alphabet is ‘C’, and the first is ‘A’, the fourth is ‘D’. What’s the number for pi?”

  “314,” said Jacker.

  “I know that, dumbass,” said Paul. “I mean after that. Keep going.” He started to write the alphabet down on the pad of paper, and then wrote numbers in sequence below the letters.

  “Hold on,” said Stephen as he picked up his cell phone from a table in the living room. He used the smart phone to go on the internet and look up a longer sequence for pi. “3.141592.”

  Paul interrupted Stephen as he scribbled letters on the pad. “That’s all I need. Look at this shit.” He dropped his pencil down and stepped back from the table with his hand over his mouth. He had an expression of satisfaction and surprise, as if he was startled by the simple, nonsensical word he’d written on the pad above the sequence of pi.

  Cada EIB

  Stephen looked at the word and gasped. “Holy fucking shit.”

  “That’s a company based out of Widowsfield,” Paul explained to Alma, who was still confused. “Its name is code for pi.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Together Again

  March 10th, 2012

  “What does that mean?” asked Alma.

  “Cada E.I.B. is a company that brokered deals between the US military and other countries. They helped sell outdated weapons and vehicles to friendly countries.”

  “Why would their name be code for pi?” asked Rachel. “And it’s not even that good of a code. It’s not like they were trying hard to hide it.”

  “But there it is,” said Stephen as he pointed at the pad of paper that Paul had written the key to the puzzle on. “Plain as day. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “It’s weird,” said Rachel. “I’ll give you that.”

  “Damn straight it’s weird,” said Stephen. “We’re going to have to check their place out. It’s abandoned now, so we should be able to get in.”