Justin stood outside in his backyard with an extremely unhappy Strutter, who was being forced against his will to brave the cold and use the bathroom. The snow caused the old dog much discouragement. Admiring the falling flakes, he fell into his thoughts about past and present transgressions for which he claimed admitted guilt. He wondered if he’d done the right thing, and if he hadn’t, what then? He worried about his wife’s reaction when she found out, but she had to know, he thought, how could she not know? Judging by her reluctance to speak to him, and her sharp tongue when she did, Justin didn’t need a doctorate in biology (which he had) to know she basked in her fury. Allison waged war on their plastic ware when she learned that Paige went to the show in the first place, but Justin conveniently forgot to tell his wife that Limbo Diver headlined the event. Wait until she finds out the rest.

Justin’s sudden recovery could be considered a medical miracle (if he believed in miracles), but Allison never questioned his overnight revitalization. She continued on about her business as if he’d fought off a bad cold, then again, she knew why he was sick. They both knew what was happening to him and Allison had been there all those years ago, from day one. The past never went away, it may lay dormant for a while but there’s always a trigger causing that well-rested beast to rear its ugly head—Justin’s beast had an empty stomach and a thousand mile memory.

The mistakes of the past plagued them, but for the most part, they made those mistakes together, not this time. He’d made the decision without her knowing, without her approval and his deceit might cost him his marriage, but he prepared to come clean. Strutter accomplished his duties and hopped to the backdoor, sinking in and out of the snow and shaking off his paws. Justin followed his longtime companion up to the porch and into the clutches of his lifelong companion, but stopped before reaching the door. A familiar sensation gripped him and he stood in place, startled when the distinguishable voice took over his crowded thoughts. He whipped around, expecting to see the voice’s owner in the flesh, and then stared at the door. Should have seen this coming, he thought, but aside from hearing Limbo Diver’s signature sound blaring from Paige’s room, he hadn’t heard Michael’s distinct voice in over ten years. Strutter whined at the backdoor as Justin wrapped his hand around the cold knob, inhaled the wet air and let him inside. The well-rested beast followed behind with an empty mug and a crowded mind. The door squeaked shut. Allison stood waiting.

“I’m assuming you received a message,” she said, standing by the fire with crossed arms and a quilt draped around her shoulders. Justin had the random, panic-induced thought that she looked older, as if the past twenty-four hours had aged her by twenty-four years, or perhaps he never noticed she’d grown old.

“Why?” he asked. “Did you receive a message?”

Allison rolled her eyes and pointed her long skinny finger, “Oh no you don’t, not this time,” she hissed. “You first, and don’t try acting blasé or unconcerned, like you don’t know anything, because I know that you know what the hell I’m talking about!” Justin jumped despite himself. Thrown off by Allison having the home field advantage, he wanted to pitch the perfect game before things got out of hand. Damage control is going into overtime.

“Honey, now calm down, I did receive a message from Michael, really took me by surprise actually, and I was coming–”

“Took you by surprise?” she asked. “Let me ask you something before you catch yourself in another lie. Did you talk to them before the show tonight?” Score! Justin’s back hit the proverbial wall.

“I did,” he answered. Allison glared at her husband. Her eyes reflected the raging fire in the backdrop. The patchwork quilt glowed with paisley, stripes and polka dots.

“Before we get into the why of it,” she said, “let me ask you something. What makes you think that he’s not behind all of this?”

“Clarify, he.”

Allison erupted. “You’re a real piece of work you know that? You go on and on about your conspiracies, the cover-ups and lies, yet you can’t even be honest with your own wife!” She adjusted the quilt and moved in closer, “I don’t know why you bother going behind my back when you know full well I’ll find out. You’re a child sometimes, you really are.” Her long skinny finger sliced the air. She moved in closer, “Oh, and I’m glad you’re feeling better, guess you thought that’d go unnoticed too. You want to know what Michael’s message was, I’ll tell you what he said, and I quote, hello Allison, Paige is with us. Justin’s been deceiving you, oh, and Billy says hi.” Pulling her quilt tighter around her shoulders, she waited.

“Say something!”

Justin flinched. “Billy says hi? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her finger pierced his chest, “I think you’re missing the key ingredient here, honey, but before we discuss how you’ve been deceitful, go ahead and tell me what he said to you. I’m sure it’s quite different from my message.”

Colder than an ice sculpture at a shotgun wedding in Antarctica, he thought. “Okay,” he said, gesturing with his empty mug, “my message said, hey pig, we have Paige, it’s show time.” He commented while he still had a pulse, “I’ve always found Michael to be a bad judge of character, haven’t you?”

Allison looked as though the roof had collapsed, again. Justin stood like a beggar in the rain—exposed, defeated and far from being off the proverbial hook.

It was a quarter past midnight when Kendal Doucet returned to The Blue Star. She managed to evade the CMC officers and arrived at her destination before the streets became impassable. Snowfall continued its record-breaking pile up and wind howled through the cracks and crevices of the early 20th century building where she took shelter. The dark city took on an eerie silence save for distant sirens heard every so often wailing into the black night from some unknown location. Glad to be rid of Regan, she remained guarded in the company of her brother and his faithful childhood friends. Alliances that formed decades ago retained their relevance and Kendal retained her resentment for the Faradays. According to her brother, blood didn’t run as thick as water, and dysfunctional though they were, Michael committed treason when he turned his back and denounced his family. Other than the few times Limbo Diver reunited for a show, Michael kept his distance from the Doucets, and Kendal blamed the Faradays for her brother’s dissent. She sighed, sipped her coffee and passively tuned in to the conversation. Brushing her long dark curls away from her face, she cringed when she looked at Ashley and saw the old green ski hat covering his head. She dropped her eyes and stirred her coffee with a small red straw, her long skinny fingers bored without a musical instrument. Ashley inquired about the blackout, asking if it was citywide, statewide or worldwide. The professor also turned to Kendal for an answer.

“What did the news report say on your way up here?” he asked.

“Nothing but static,” she replied, eyeing Paige who stood and excused herself. It was her third trip in one hour to the bathroom. Paige borrowed the professor’s flashlight again, filed past the pool tables and searched the shadows for Vincent and his gold pocket watch. She swung open the door and scanned the room, kicking open each stall just as she’d done fifteen minutes before. Approaching the last stall on the far end, she stopped. A warm red glow spilled through the cracks of the door. She hesitated, took a few steps back, held her breath and listened for signs of life.

“Hello?” she said.

The light faded and reappeared in the stall beside it, and then the next, and on down the line until a bright flash exploded and bathed the room in white-washed luminosity. Paige shielded her eyes as she stumbled back and tripped over her own feet, the blinding light mimicking the sun, reflecting off the bathroom mirror as it warmed the ice cold air. When the heat subsided, she lowered her arm and opened her eyes to see a slender woman in a red silk dress standing before her. The flashlight shut off by itself and Paige grabbed hold of the sink, her double-knotted shoes welded into the black-and-white checkered floor. Appearing solid with a soft red glow illuminating her figure, the mocha-skinned woman held her finger to her mouth and placed her hand into the pockets of her red dress. With piercing green eyes, she gazed at Paige through the mirror and whispered, “He knows you from another time. He offers fool’s gold. He plays the fiddle where the strange fruit grows.” Holding her finger to her mouth again, she turned, faced Paige directly and screamed without making a sound, her mouth stretching open as her hands clinched the pockets of her red dress. Paige recoiled. Tears streamed down her face as she trembled with weak legs and clung to the sink for a lifeline. Closing her mouth abruptly, the exotic woman gazed at Paige through the mirror again and whispered, “He follows the moon with a hidden eye. Gabriel ain’t supposed to die.” Her image became distorted, appearing through fragmented light and then dispersing into tiny orbs that sparked and blinked out of existence. The flashlight clicked on and the bathroom door swung open.

“Everything okay in here?” Kendal asked, shining her light into Paige’s watery eyes.

Nodding, Paige followed Kendal out of the bathroom and returned to her seat next to Abbey. Her body shuddered as she picked at her bottom lip and peered through the darkness. White letters, suspended in midair, gleamed in the light of the oil lamp, the word, WOMEN, becoming foreign the longer she stared. She halfway listened as Abbey talked about the end of the world, his tone nonchalant and his posture relaxed, he concluded that the end had already begun. Professor Faraday stared at his drink in a trance. Paige stared at the bathroom door.

“The world’s not coming to an end,” Michael said, crunching on an ice cube. “This blig blue ball of crap will go on whether or not we’re along for the ride.”

Paige crinkled her forehead and looked up to see Ashley smiling, his hand resting against the green hat. Michael crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

“Look,” he grinned, “all I’m saying is that the poles will shift a little, we’ll tilt a little closer to the sun, the earth will warm and cool, species die, new life is born, it’s the circle of freakin’ life.”

“The world will end when they want it to end,” the professor said. “When they pull the plug, mankind will be depopulated by one means or another, and Mother Nature will be destroyed in the process.”

Under different circumstances, Paige would be a mighty contender in the current debate, but the woman in the bathroom preyed upon her sanity. Her stark green eyes and thick French accent tormented her body with cold un-abating chills as the woman’s voice played through her head until Abbey’s voice interrupted. You okay? Glancing over, she thought, I’m seeing ghosts! Abbey widened his eyes, don’t go to New Orleans!

“Words of wisdom,” Michael said, “but in the grand scheme of things, history is repeating itself.”

Professor Faraday nodded in agreement before answering, “But it doesn’t have to, and I’ll say this much, if we are barreling towards Armageddon, most people probably wouldn’t even notice.”

Michael eyed Abbey and Paige as a deep red light enveloped him, not around Kendal guys, keep it light. Kendal eyed all three of them and stirred her black coffee. Yawning, Michael repositioned himself, draped his arm across the back of the futon and rested his head.

“It’s mind control,” he said.

“It absolutely is,” the professor nodded, taking another drink.

Paige struggled to keep from looking at Kendal, the silent member in the band, the female bassist who rounded out their sound with pitch-perfect harmony now felt like a threat. It wasn’t anything she did or said, or even Michael’s warning, it was something else, something about the way she stirred her coffee and glared into the shadows as if she too, searched for the woman in the red dress. Paige focused on Professor Faraday instead, who sat next to Kendal and schooled them on the ways of the world. His speech gained momentum the longer he spoke until the lecture snowballed into a full-blown rant.

“Our reality is ruled by propaganda,” he said. “It’s doled out like chicken feed! A deliberate disinformation campaign, and with everything being censored, from the news to our textbooks to the kitchen table, we don’t know the truth about anything!”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Michael said.

The professor paused for a drink before continuing, “But those useless eaters don’t seem to care, just so long as they get their chicken feed. They’re the happy-go-lucky masses, and anyone who sounds the alarm, like myself, is a crazy conspiracy theorist.”

“Absolutely,” Michael nodded.

“Cognitive dissonance,” the professor said, pausing for another drink.

Michael glanced at Ashley and shrugged. Abbey and Paige turned to each other, smiled, and then looked to the professor. Kendal stirred her black coffee.

“The social need to justify conflicting ideas or actions,” the professor explained. “If something is too far-fetched or too far-removed from our common beliefs, it’s easier to believe lies than it is the truth.”

Ashley pulled the ashtray closer and mumbled something under his breath. Paige couldn’t decipher what he said but the professor appeared pleased with his brother, slapping his leg and pointing his finger.

“Exactly!” he exclaimed. “The bigger the lie, the more they believe. Hitler even wrote about it. The Big Lie, Nazi propaganda.”

Kendal sighed and primped up her hair. “Tell us more, Billy,” she said. “You want to quote something out of Mein Kampf?”

The professor dropped his shoulders and brushed back his hair as he turned and stared at Kendal. Curling her lips, she sipped her coffee and focused on Ashley.

“Why are you wearing that hat?” she asked.

Ashley clenched his jaw and sat up straighter in his seat.

“That hat,” Kendal said, “it clashes with your designer suit. Not at all your style.”

Smiling with only half his face, Ashley replied, “And having couth has never been yours.”

Michael came to the rescue before another fight broke out between his best friend and one of his sisters. With his legs outstretched across Ashley’s lap, he placed his finger over his friend’s mouth and warned Kendal to behave. Holding up his wrists, he reminded his sister that his life depended on her cooperation. His yellow glow turned red as his dark eyes bore into his sister, but she ignored his slow burn and continued stirring her black coffee. Flinching back, she almost fell from the stool when her mug slid across the table and crashed to the floor. Michael grinned and winked at Paige as Professor Faraday bent down to pick up the chunks of glass.

“So much for the truce,” he commented from the floor. Kendal’s high-heeled boot bobbed up and down above the professor’s head while he finished cleaning the mess. Michael closed his eyes and rested his head against his arm, but Ashley pulled him back up and reached for the First Aid kit on the coffee table. Rolling back his sleeves, he whispered for Michael to take it easy while bandaging his scarred wrists. Paige turned away from the two friends and observed the bathroom door, haunted by the green-eyed woman.

Gabriel ain’t supposed to die. She couldn’t get the words out of her head. The woman in the red dress petrified her, but for a split second she looked beyond fear and saw something. The dream, the dark club, the green army coat, the forbidden trunk in the attic—she discovered a crease on the face of reality. While she stood frozen in terror with the woman’s silent scream piercing her ears, Paige thought she understood the message. The overwhelming fear crystallized her thoughts and she saw through the constraints of denial and skepticism and mistrust. She found clarity, but like waking from a dream, she lost it as soon as Kendal opened the bathroom door. She remembered the message and tried to make connections but something was missing, the dots weren’t lining up, blocked by an obstruction, blocked by denial and skepticism and mistrust. All roads lead to New Orleans, she thought, where the devil wants to make a deal, and while Paige never believed in the devil, Gabriel did. The millionaire teen dream who chain-smoked, abused hard drugs and romanced older women, embraced his spirituality. Gabriel once said he’d already made reservations with the man upstairs, that his soul was golden—Paige hoped so. For his sake, she hoped heaven did exist, because whether or not he was supposed to, Gabriel died, she thought, and Ashley’s wearing his hat, and Abbey looks like his identical twin.

“The way I see it,” Ashley said, shoving the First Aid kit into Michael’s backpack, “This little family reunion has been a long time coming, like fire in a forest, and tomorrow, I’ll be the spark.” Finishing off his drink, he stood and requested orders as he slid over the bar and returned with two small glasses and a handful of beer.

Professor Faraday enjoyed a prolonged gulp from his fresh drink, but his face tightened as he set it aside and looked to his brother.

“Hey, Ash,” he said, folding his hands over his knee, “what do you think Gabe would say about the state of the world today?”

Ashley gently pulled the hat off his head and held it in his lap. Rubbing his fingers across the faded cotton fabric, he answered, “Same thing he always said, the world’s been taken over by a bunch of Nazi Satan worshipers.”

The professor chuckled and agreed, “You’re right, that’s exactly what he would say.”

Michael sipped his drink and asked if they remembered the speech Gabriel gave at an awards ceremony. After winning Best Actor, the teen dream took to the stage and addressed the audience, holding up the gold-plated award, he stated, I find it quite fitting that this is shaped like a pyramid, and to the winners before me who thanked God, I don’t think He cares if you win Best Supporting Actor. I’d like to thank Lucifer, the real winner here tonight. Gabriel then gave the award away to one of the stage guides.

Ashley laughed and wiped his eyes, “Yeah, I think that was the last award he ever won.”

Paige listened while they reminisced about the fallen idol and almost felt like she knew Gabriel, as if he wasn’t a bigger-than-life celebrity but merely a friend who never came around anymore. She drew in more lines and milked her beer. We’ve been down this road. The professor beamed with fondness as he remembered the young actor, suggesting the world would be in much better shape had he lived. Even Kendal shared a heart-felt narrative, but Abbey remained silent, scoffing to himself before finally storming off to the bathroom. Paige watched him disappear behind the door and hoped the men’s room wasn’t harboring its own ghosts. Ashley loosened his tie and placed the ski hat into Michael’s bag, the two friends exchanging worrisome looks after Abbey’s abrupt departure. Professor Faraday sighed and rotated his beer on the table.

“I think Gabe would be pretty freaked out about the progression of things,” he said. “I know I am.” Michael nodded and agreed, adding that Gabriel saw it coming more than any of them. From the civilian military to the collapse of the dollar to the death of America, he concluded that the young star had known how and when the dominoes would fall—a planned collapse of society. Kendal scrunched up her face and glanced at the ceiling.

“Michael,” she said, leaning in closer, “I loved Gabriel as much as anyone. Sneer all you want, Ashley, I did love him, but he was misled. There are no evil puppet masters running things.”

Nose to nose with his sister, Michael replied, “They exist behind closed doors, Ken. You, more than anyone, should know that. Quit playing games.”

The heel of her shoe mimicked a yo-yo as she replied, “Gabriel was misled, and none of this is The Council’s doing.”

Michael grinned and waved at the ceiling. “No one said anything about The Council, Ken, but since you brought it up–”

“No, not the closet, don’t look in the closet,” The professor said, flailing his arms around. Kendal responded with daggers. “There’s no evil plot,” she said, her arms and legs tightly crossed. “The human population got out of hand, so The Council stepped in. We need them. There are far too many of us and we’ve blundered away our resources. It’s not a global conspiracy, it’s a global problem.”

Lowering his voice, his grin replaced with a frown, Michael suggested suicide might be a worthy answer to her cause. The professor quickly came to her defense.

“Michael, that’s uncalled for!”

“No it’s not,” he replied. “One less human equals one less useless eater.”

Kendal glared at her brother and yanked her jacket tighter around her waist. “I am not a useless eater,” she said, “and you know you’d be a lot happier if there were less of them!”

Paige set her beer aside and tuned out their sibling rivalry. The dizzy spell returned and she struggled to make sense of her surroundings, the shadows jumping and moving closer, tricking her eyes into believing a tall stranger with a hat and cane stood by the bathroom doors. Abbey emerged from the men’s room and privately asked if she was okay. Rubbing her temples, she shook her head and winced as a sharp pain ripped across her forehead. Michael slammed the rest of his drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He spoke with mounting anger.

“When we get to New Orleans,” he said, “father will fall to his knees, and Alain will be called out, so choose your side now, Sister.”

A fiery glow consumed Kendal. Her foot assaulted the air as she glared at her brother, the two siblings absorbed by each other, transfixed, until Kendal broke eye contact and glanced at Paige; she then nudged the professor. Jumping from his stool, Professor Faraday knelt down before Paige and cupped her clammy hands. Dizzy and sick to her stomach, she fought to keep her eyes open as the world around her dimmed, but the professor’s calm voice extinguished her mounting panic. She inhaled a deep breath and fell into the rhythm of his breathing. He tightened his grasp and a warm sensation rushed throughout her body like fire erupting from within. He feeds off fear, she heard the professor say, and when she looked up, a bright green light surrounded him. The room spun off kilter and Paige clung to the professor’s pale blue eyes, his warm grasp sending her into a dreamscape.

Weightless and disconnected from her body, she closed her eyes and let go. The cold, windy night gave way to a pale blue sky as the secure embrace of a heavy blanket enveloped her. Suspended in a languid ocean, her body moved with the rise and fall of the waves as they carried her out to sea. The quiet roar of the ocean’s lullaby swallowed her whole and washed away her pain, but just as she was lifted up and ready to absorb the boundless sky, the cold and windy night returned. Professor Faraday handed her a bottle of water and directed her to drink. She obeyed.

“You shouldn’t have any more dizzy spells,” he said, patting her on the shoulder and returning to his barstool.

Paige couldn’t stop smiling. “But Professor,” she said, “what did you do? I felt like I was in another world, like a dream!”

“Paige please,” he replied, “call me Billy. Professor Faraday makes me sound so…old.” Tossing his long hair away from his face, he smiled and scratched his beard. “Okay,” he gestured, “hmm, let’s see, in order to simplify a complex process, let’s just say I made some minor adjustments to your energy level and your body’s overall ability to adapt.”

Laughing, she replied, “I don’t even know what that means, but it seems to me that you have magical healing hands. That was amazing! I’ve never felt so warm and relaxed in all my life!”

Michael laughed and held out his hand, “Fifty bucks please, cash only. Pay the pimp or pay the price.”

“Two-for-one deal,” Ashley grinned, his fingers displaying the numbers. “Satisfaction guaranteed.”

The professor smiled and apologized for their lewd comments. “I would expect this from Michael,” he said, “but I don’t know what’s gotten into my little brother.”

Holding up his glass, Ashley answered, “Rum! You know I’m not much of a drinker.”

Michael leaned back and rubbed his forehead, “Your nose just poked me again, Ash.”

Paige watched the two friends banter back and forth and longed for the same unbreakable bond, someone to shuffle between worlds with, call her out, pull her in and hold her up. Ashley threw a piece of ice at Michael, and she laughed as the famous rock god picked it off the futon and popped it in his mouth. He waited for Ashley to try again. When she asked the professor if his little trick was some sort of telepathy, like mind over matter, he shook his head and shrugged, claiming it just came naturally. Michael pleaded her case.

“Details, Professor, she needs details,” he said, clapping his hands. “Seriously though, we don’t know what’s wrong with this one.” Pointing at the professor with his thumb, he said, “This one here, he’s one of a kind.” A piece of ice fell to the floor as Michael stood to leave. Smirking, Ashley stood with him and straightened out his suit.

“We head-out early,” he yawned.

“Paige,” Michael bowed, “it’s been a pleasure.” He followed Ashley to the door and turned around at the last minute, “Oh, by the way, your parents received my message, and don’t worry, they know your safe.” With that, he bid them goodnight and disappeared behind the red door leading to the long hallway of mystery rooms. Paige gazed into the darkness. Something was there, not the devil lurking in the shadows or a ghost in a red dress, but something that begged for her attention. It buzzed and fluttered and tapped, like a dragonfly trapped behind a screen door, it longed to be discovered and set free.

“How well do you know my parents?” she asked, still gazing into the darkness. “Justin and Allison I mean, how well do you know them?”

Standing up, the professor stretched out his arms and answered, “Quite well.” He patted her on the back and suggested she turn in for the night, explaining the sleeping arrangements and apologizing for not having enough beds. She and Abbey would have to make do with a couch and a red chaise lounge.

“I think it’s best you go home tomorrow,” he said, “but I guess it’s not up to me. I urge you to reconsider.”

Paige followed him out of the bar and down the long hallway where he and Kendal said goodnight and retired to one of the rooms on the right. Abbey and Paige retreated to the main room where blankets and pillows were already set out. He offered her the couch and then curled up on the chaise, barely visible and cocooned in the thick blankets. Paige also cocooned herself from the cold and shut her eyes, plagued by a thousand questions and haunted by the silence.

Abbey, she thought, you awake?

Fading fast, he replied, what’s up?

Can’t sleep, she thought, I need to know about the deal. What does this Vincent guy want with me?

Don’t know, he answered.

I’m trying not to freak out, she thought, but I’m living someone else’s life. None of this seems real, but at the same time, everything feels familiar. Does that make sense?

Like a déjà vu? he asked.

Exactly! Like talking to you right now, telepathy isn’t possible, yet here we are, and it feels normal, but there’s something I’m missing, and I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s there, stalking me. Abbey? …Abbey?

The silence returned. Paige wished for sirens, or traffic or some sort of noise pollution to shatter the stillness, but it persisted, distracting and heavy and loud. She disturbed the universe when she flipped sides and pulled the covers over her head. The night played on repeat. She flipped sides. She cursed the silence. She flipped sides again, the silence, unapologetic. Her breathing finally slowed and her mind played out as her body relaxed and welcomed the first signs of sleep. Drifting off into an even stranger world, Paige vaguely wondered what time it was, but her cell phone was dead last time she checked, and does anyone wear watches anymore? Before succumbing to sleep, she saw the devil leaning on his cane, resetting his gold pocket watch.