2. Road Trip

The prearranged meeting spot for the group is on South West Street - midway between the Science Hall and Robert Carter Memorial Hall. When you get there, you see two Chevrolet Model Ks and a large Ford AA truck standing by. A gaggle of other students mill around the vehicles.

Robert Blaine waves you over.

As your luggage is loaded onto the truck, he introduces you to the others.

"This is Clarissa Thurber. She's a chemistry major." He points you to an attractive young woman, with long, brown hair styled in the latest fashion, hazel eyes, and an athletic physique. She's wearing a nice dress of a conservative length.

"Yes. If you're wondering. She is the daughter of Professor Theodore Thurber." Robert says with a slight smile.

"Don't hold that against me." Clarissa says with the slightest hint of a lisp. She smiles, but you can see she is sizing you up.

"This is Jason Trent. He's a history major." Robert points to young man with dark brown hair and eyes, thin lips, and a round face framed by large thick-lensed glasses.

Trent looks up, his eyes magnified by the thick lenses. "Hi." He says, lifting his hand ever so slightly as if to wave. He puts it down quickly and looks down at his feet.

"This is Little Rod." Robert says clapping a large young man on the shoulder. "He's a geography major, and on the varsity football team."

"Howdie." He says with an easy smile and a slight southern drawl. His broad, pleasant-looking face is only marred by a small "U" shaped scar on his chin. He proudly wears his football jersey and jacket.

"Louis Gibbons." Robert says, "is a Botany major." He points to a young man with striking blue eyes, blond hair, and perfect teeth.

"Well, hello." He says. A heavy Boston accent signals that he might be local. "A pleasure to meet you." A broad smile crosses his face and produces dimples that probably drive the girls crazy.

"Harry Higgins is geology major." He points to a thin, frail-looking youth with reddish brown hair and green eyes. He has a silver dollar sized birthmark on the right side of his face.

"Whoah! More people?" He asks Robert with a big smile. "You've got a full-on search party here." He nods to the group and doesn't wait for a response, before heading off to joke with the others.

"William Noakes is a ..." Robert gives the big, strapping lad with curly auburn hair, blue eyes, and freckles a confused look. "What is your major, Will?"

William smiles "Undecided." He says. A slight blush coloring his cheeks. He nods a welcome. "Nice to meet you." He says.

"And finally, Terrence Laslow, the psychology major." He says pointing to a young man with a sour look. Terrence has a thin, sharp face, black hair and a thin moustache that hasn't filled out well. He is dressed in a very fine suit that looks like it cost a lot of money.

He looks you up and down, but doesn't say anything. He turns to the group and states loudly. "I will be driving. There is no way I'm going to get crushed in the back."

Blaine calls the group together. He explains that everyone will be lodging in a farmhouse about three miles outside of Cobb’s Corners. It's going to take about a half day to get there, so get comfortable.

With the luggage stowed, he signals for everyone to load up.

Little Rod gets behind the wheel of one of the Chevrolets, and Terrance gets behind the wheel of the second. Robert looks at your group and asks "Do any of you know how to drive well?"

Marcus is taken slightly aback when no-one volunteers for truck driving duty.
"I g-guess that leaves me to do the driving. I'm quite good with cars, but never tried one of these. You folks don't drive too fast, alright?" he says to the other drivers.

He gets in the cabin, gulps at the size of the steering wheel. He tries to familiarise himself with the gearbox, pedals, adjusts the mirrors. This was designed for bigger men than me! he thinks, sliding the seat closer to reach the pedals.

"OK, I have room two here in the cabin. And plenty for cargo in the flatbed."

"Shotgun!" Calls out Harry Higgens.

He raises his hand and runs towards the truck, looking over his shoulder as if expecting a race with one of the other students. He slows when he sees no one giving chase. "Alright. I guess that was easy enough."

He clambers up into the cab and leans out the window towards Marcus. "So, Marcus. Care for a sip?" He produces a small flask and shakes it. Without waiting for a response, he unscrews the top and takes a quick pull.

"You know, if the government'd pass a constitutional amendment prohibiting anybody from learning anything, in five years we'd be the smartest race of people on Earth." He grins and holds out to flask.

Louis Gibbons strolls up to the truck. "Do you mind if I join you two?"

He gives the flask a momentary look of surprise, then a broad smile spreads across his face, producing those trademark dimples. "Well. It appears I joined the right group."

Marcus notes something familiar about Louis. It takes a moment to place him - you shared a handful of lectures in Marcus's time at Miskatonic. Classes aimed at students with an eye towards Medicine. But he hasn't been in any similar lectures this year.

"Just a taste, thanks. It will help me loosen up. You know, I've never tried to drive one of these before." He pats the steering wheel, than takes the flask from Harry for a brief sip.

As he returns the flask he acknowledges the second passenger, "Hey Louis. Saw you around in classes. Right. We'd better get going..."

He starts the truck engine, and looks up at the other cars, then glances at his stuff that he secured on the back of the vehicle.

"Ellis Hardy, undergraduate Astronomy," Ellis responds by way of introduction to the group. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"I can maybe start and stop a car, I'm not a driver. I'll get in the rear with the gear," Ellis replies to Robert good-naturedly. In the hubbub he missed his chance to grab a seat in the truck, so he starts eyeing the Chevrolets.

He already deposited his gear into the truck - warm clothes, his old rifle in a carrying bag, a small telescope, a printed star guide, and flashlights with red covers. On his person he keeps a small notebook, pencils, and a map of the Cobb's Corners area.

ELLIS
William Noakes drops into the front seat and the car rocks gently. He turns around, arm hanging over the back of the seat. "So, Ellis - Astronomy? That sounds interesting. Why did you choose that major?"

Jason Trent settles into the back seat directly behind William. He shrinks back slightly as the big man's arm drops behind the seat, near his leg. He sneaks a peak at Ellis, then returns his gaze to his lap without a word.

Terrence pulls the car door shut and turns to give William a sharp look. "Keep to your side, please." He waves William's knee back from his side of the car.

William shifts, pulling his knee back. "Oh. Sorry, Terrence." A slight blush colors his cheeks. He turns back to Ellis, recovering with an easy smile. "Astronomy?" He continues.

MARCUS
The truck lurches forward, rocking back and forth as it nearly stalls a twice. The gears grind and scream as Marcus wrestles the stick into second.

"Jeez!" Harry exclaims in his broad Irish lilt, knuckles white on the dash. "Never drove one of these - did ye mean a Ford truck, or automobile in general?" He barks a laugh at his own joke, and punches Marcus lightly on the arm. "Ah, don't worry about it, old man. I'm sure you're doing a much better job than I would've."

Harry turns to Louis. "So, taking some medical classes on the side, eh?"

Louis smiles at Harry, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "No." He says, with a low chuckle that carries a trace of his Boston accent. "I started out in Medicine. Spent a year at St. Mary's actually. But it just wasn't for me." He adjusts his jacket cuff. "Botany suits me rather better."

Louis turns back to Marcus. "So, what made you go into Medicine?"

"Sorry Harry," he replies to the Irishman. "I'll... I'll get the hang of it, I'm sure."
The truck bumps harshly driving over a pothole, as if on cue. Marcus grins embarrassed.

At Louis's question, he ponders for a moment how much to reveal to someone he's just met.
"Well... my family in Boston are practitioners... Have been for a few generations, so... I didn't get much of a say in the matter. Had to continue the legacy, I guess."

He tries to lighten the atmosphere, "but Medicine is alright. Just... there's SO much to learn! Struggling with the damn enzymes, at the moment. There seem to be thousands of types!"

He looks ahead at the other cars.
Hope Blaine is in the lead, being the only one who knows how to get there...

Jocelyn heads for the second car. She is surprised at the size of the expedition so keeps her thoughts to herself as she arranges herself in the vehicle. She has brought her father's old hunting rifle besides some basic provisions for a couple of days in the country.

MARCUS
"Family business." Louis says his smile fading. He shifts in his seat uncomfortably and gets quiet. "I understand."

He watches the road, his expression distant. When Marcus mentions the workload, Louis seems to snap out of it and nods along. "Yeah, it just wasn't for me. I couldn't see myself practicing Medicine for the rest of my life."

He smiles and turns to Harry. "How 'bout a sip from that flask?" He asks, holding out his hand.

Harry smiles and passes it over. "I knew I picked the right vehicle."

---

JOCELYN
Little Rod climbs into the driver's side. Robert Blaine takes the front passenger seat and immediately produces a map. He spreads it open on the dash, jabbing a finger at Arkham.

He traces one of the lines heading out of the city. "We need to get onto the 25 south to Boston. Then it's the 57 west." The discussion that follows drones on about highways, traffic patterns, and stops along the way - Little Rod nodding patiently as Robert talks.

Clarissa Thurber slides into the back seat beside Jo and turns to give her a warm smile. "A graduate student - at Miskatonic, no less." She raises an eyebrow with genuine appreciation. "I'm impressed."

She glances at the front seat, where Robert and Little Rod are still debating the merits of one highway over another, and wrinkles her nose at the two arguing in the front. "Fools." she says quietly, the word carrying more amusement than malice.

She turns to Jo. "Archaeology. Now that sounds exciting." A sparkle hits her hazel eyes. "Are you planning to attend any of the famous digs? My goodness, what about Tutankhamun? Are they still out there? I can't imagine anything more thrilling."

"Oh, it's natural for me," Ellis replies. "I've always been interested in the stars, ever since I was a child. I'd go out on dark nights and look for constellations. My parents got me a book of star charts for my birthday one year and I went out and marked it up with all my observations. I checked out all sorts of books from the library about the night sky."

After a moment's thought, Ellis continues, "I understand that you haven't decided on a major yet, do you have any leanings in any particular direction, Will?"

Addressing both Louis and Harry, he asks, "so... about this missing students business... Blaine wanted to propose to the missing girl... no wonder he is so invested in this. But he told me that a Miskatonic professor tried to stop the funds for the original expedition. Who could that be? Any ideas?"

He switches to a lower gear as the road gets more uphill, beginning to get a grasp on the temperamental gearbox...

"My line of work is more about finding bits of pottery or arrowheads in riverbeds right here in the good ol' U.S. of A," Jo replies to Clarissa, finding herself utterly unable to convey the fascination she herself feels with the topic. All that egyptology is far more glamorous, something of a pipe dream for a girl like me."

"What about you? Why a chemistry major on a field trip to Cobb's Corner?"

That came out wrong..."What I mean," she says quickly, "is why are we taking a football team?

ELLIS
"I don't know." Will says, shifting slightly in his seat. "I was happy enough on the farm, helping my pa. But Uncle Bill said I was a bright kid and I ought to give school a shot."

He shrugs his big shoulders with an easy, self-deprecating smile. "I like Anthropology well enough. History too. It's just ... a lot. More than I was expecting, I suppose."

He glances over at Jason Trent, who has not looked up from his lap during the entire exchange. "You're in History, aren't you Jason?"

The young man looks up startled - surprised to find himself included. "Uh, yeah." He says looking from Will to Ellis, blinking behind his thick lenses. A moment passes. The silence seems to drag.

Will draws in a breath to fill the silence, but Jason speaks up first. "I think we might find evidence of Witches up there." He says quietly, almost to himself. Then pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and stares at Ellis.

MARCUS
"Proposal!" Harry burst out laughing. "That's crazy. I was wondering why he was so fired up about getting this whole search party together."

Louis cuts in sharply, nudging Harry with an elbow and giving him a disapproving look. Harry sobers quickly, muttering something under his breath before taking another pull from his flask and staring out the window.

"I wasn't aware he had proposed." Louis says, turning back to Marcus. "I just assumed he felt ... responsible. Guilty about having to miss the field trip himself."

JOCELYN
Clarissa looks over at Little Rod, a wry smile playing at the corner of her mouth. She looks back at Jo. "It is quite a big group, isn't it."

She glances at Robert, who is still bent over his map and her smile fades. "Honestly? I'm not really sure why I'm here."

She leans in and keeps her voice low. "I didn't know anyone from the initial field trip. I mean - I do feel terrible that they've gone missing, of course. But I hadn't planned to search for them."

She studies Robert. "He was very insistent." She pauses, remembering. "Almost ...like he would cancel the trip if I didn't come along." She shrugs again. "Which is flattering, I suppose, in a puzzling way."

She turns to Jo and smiles again. "At least I've met someone interesting to spend some time with."

Something in the way Harry & Louis interact with each other seems strange. They gave no indication during introductions that they knew each other during introductions, nor when they climbed into the cab. Yet, the way Louis silenced Harry just now, and the way Harry accepted it without protest, spoke to a friendship older than just a morning.

And then there was Louis's reaction to Marcus's question about the Mistakonic professor. He seemed to know more than he was letting on. Was he holding something back?

"I'm sorry, but what do you mean by evidence of witches?" Ellis replies, taken aback by Jason's reply. Ellis continues asking questions as quickly as they enter his head. "You mean like historical evidence of occult folk practices? Was the Cobb's Corners area known for having witches in the Salem era?"

Marc's picks up on Louis's reticence and decides to press on. In conversational tone, he says:
"And how about you Louis? Have you also heard about that Professor wanting to stop the trip? Why would they do that, do you think?"

"Wow, I had no idea," replies Ellis, feeling a sense of amazement. Searching for his next words, he follows up with, "So is your specific field of study in Colonial-era history then?" Ellis isn't necessarily what you might call a "people person," but even he can tell that Jason seems to be suffering from a lack of confidence.

"Hey," he says. "You're doing work just by taking this opportunity to see what you can find out. Field work is important in Astronomy, I can only imagine that it's just as important in studying history. It's not nothing."

Hope that raises his spirits a bit, Ellis thinks to himself.

Wilmarth... Wish we'd found out sooner. It would have been interesting to talk to him, he thinks.

To Louis's request for confidentiality, he responds: "Understood, will keep it quiet."

ELLIS

Jason blushes and a smile spreads across his face. He pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Thanks." He says quietly, the smile getting wider.

Will twists in the front seat, his broad face lighting up. "Look at this guy, eh." He reaches back and bats Jason on the shoulder. The smaller man is caught off guard and bounces off the door. "Witches! Let's hope we don't actually come across any - I'd hate to be turned into a toad."

He lets out a full throated laugh and gently pats Jason on the shoulder, as if in apology. "I'm kidding, buddy. Genuinely though - I had no idea about Witch trials up in Vermont."

"Don't be stupid." Terrence finally pipes in, looking into the back seat through the rear-view mirror. "There's no such thing as Witches."

Wilmarth is familiar, though not from the classroom. It's somewhat unlikely that Marcus would have taken his classes in English literature or Folklore, unless it was for extra credit. That said, Marcus has seen him around - a slightly built man, with a clean-shaven, lean face and sharp eyes set behind thick spectacles.

Marcus easily places the professor. He's headed into the Restricted Section of Orne Library more than a few times over the past year or so. Not only did he visit, but Wilmarth and Dr. Armitage appeared to be good friends.

Interesting, Wilmarth and Armitage are in friendly terms. Yet Armitage encouraged Ellis to dig more, while Wilmarth tried to actively stop the trip, and now has his own 'spies' on the expedition... Quite opposed approaches, he thinks.

Not wanting to appear too inquisitive, Marcus shifts the conversation to more mundane matters.

He focuses on the driving.

"You're right, Terrence. Magical powers of flight and curses aren't real. Didn't stop people of the time from believing in those things, though," Ellis replies to Terrence's curt pronouncement.

Ellis then turns to Will. "Well, Will - here's an example of the choice between History and Anthropology. History tells you that there were people practicing witchcraft in the area in past times. Anthropology would tell you what they believed about those rituals and the culture that created them."

After a moment, Ellis smiles and adds, "and if you wanted to read and write about rituals of that type, then you could try Literature." He gives the larger man a friendly light slap on Will's nearby elbow.

The rest of the ride passes without incident. By half past one in the afternoon, the convoy rolls into Cobb’s Corners - a town that looks like a postcard. Neat clapboard houses and shops, maple lined streets, lush green lawns.

The locals don't miss your arrival. A few pause on the sidewalk to watch the procession turn south toward the center of town.

The three vehicles park, one after another, in front of Jim's Grill. Students pile out - stiff legged, dusty and hungry. They stretch and look around, blinking at the bright fall sunlight.

"Alright, everyone. Gather round." Robert says, waving the group to a spot near the door of the diner. "We'll eat, then head to the farmhouse to get settled. The rest of the afternoon is yours." he gives the group a practiced smile. "Interviewing and searching starts tomorrow morning, bright and early."

He's about to lead the group into the diner, when he turns back. "One more thing before we go in." His tone a bit sharper. "I'm responsible for every one of you while we're here. If you're planning to go off anywhere on your own, clear it with me first. Are we understood?"

He turns towards the door - and nearly walks into a man coming out the other way.

"Well, now." A grin spreads across his face. "What do we have here?" He thrusts a hand towards Marcus - apparently selecting him at random. "Richard Wendell. Cobb's Corners Gazette." He puts a bit of weight on the name of the paper, as if trying to highlight it's importance. "What brings a crowd like this all the way out here?"

Marcus is taken aback. He shakes the journalist's hand, craning his neck to catch Blaine's attention for help.
But Blaine has already gone.
Damn it... what do I tell this guy? I don't know how discreet Blaine wanted to be about this trip. Not very, judging by the way we paraded through town... Oh, well.

Cautiously, he says, "we are from Miskatonic University. Here to search for the missing students. I'm sure you covered their disappearance, and the death of Boyd Patterson, in your paper?"

He leans in conspiratorially. "And I bet you did a better job than those pretentious hacks at the Arkham Advertiser..."

Oh no... this newshound is looking for a piece at all costs... I'd better omit my name.

"Er... I'd rather not be mentioned in your paper, Mr. Wendell. And I only just arrived, too soon to jump to conclusions," he says in avoidance, with a dismissive gesture.

"Maybe in a few days we could have a more informed conversation."
He walks past the journalist and follows Blaine into the diner, intentionally omitting his name.

THE DINER
As you enter the diner, a slender woman with long blonde hair greets you from behind the counter. Directly across from her, perched on one of the stools is a young teenage boy. The boy is absorbed in a drawing, pencil moving in careful loops. He looks up and smiles as the students file in and offer an earnest smile before returning to his work.

In a far booth, against the window, sit two men in uniform. The younger one - short brown hair with sky-blue eyes - clocks the group immediately. He leans in and whispers something to the large man across from him. The larger man turns in his seat with deliberate slowness and gives the group a long, flat appraisal. His face is craggy, leathery, and aged beyond his years.

Once everyone is settled and perusing their menus, the large man eases himself out of the booth.

He saunters over towards your table, taking his time. The younger deputy, follows a few steps behind. The older man stops at the counter to top off his coffee before turning his attention to the erstwhile adventurers. The deputy loiters nearby, watching but not saying anything.

The sheriff turns and glares down at the students, as if looking at a group of hedonist anarchists. He doesn't sit. He doesn't move closer. "My name’s Sheriff Spencer and this, here, is Deputy Cutter." He pauses, watching. "We are the law in Cobb’s Corners."

What follows is much less a speech, more like a sermon, delivered slowly and deliberately. He's not interested in responses, talks over interruptions, and ramrods through all arguments.

"We will not hesitate to make your stay here most unpleasant if you break the rules. I am aware of how you city kids enjoy your speakeasies, staggering around drunk at all hours of the day and night. I realize there are so many of you delinquents that the authorities in the city let you run amok without a care for your lives or your souls. Well, not here. This is a God-fearing town! There will be no stories of drunken carousing, shoplifting, cow tipping, or any other perversions your idle minds can come up with! Cobb’s Corners has already seen more unwanted attention than it deserves thanks to the last group of inebriated hooligans who rampaged through here and wound up dead or missing in the mountains. We don’t need you stirring up trouble - so watch yourselves, because we’ll be watching you. God bless and have a fine day."

With his speech delivered, Sheriff Spencer drains his coffee. He sets it down with a soft click, and strolls out without a backward glance.

Deputy Cutter watches him go. Then he turns to the table and flashes a grin, warm and a little helpless. "Sorry about that." He says, taking a seat on a nearby stool. "Mind if I join you?"

"As long as you don't mind us being here," Ellis retorts, feeling a bit huffy after getting an unnecessary dressing down from the sheriff. "Sit down."

That was rather... heavy-handed. Talk about setting boundaries! he thinks, after Spencer's tirade. Oh well, at least he gave us his blessing...

Marcus nods at the Deputy in greeting, but stays silent. Is the man here to spy for his boss?

"I didn't," Jocelyn says in a not particularly helpful manner.

She looks at the Deputy for a moment, her head tilted slightly. The anthropologist inside her has got the better of her. "What's cow tipping when it's at home?" she asks.

Marcus looks around the room to see if he spots any reactions in the waitresses and staff, after the Law left the place.
Relief, amusement? He wonders what the locals think of their blunt Sheriff.

Maybe some staff could be persuaded to share some gossip

Marcus catches reaction of the waitress behind the counter when the sheriff leaves. She smiles and waves. Reflexive. Neighbourly. If there is any animosity there, it's not evident. She doesn't seem bothered by his heavy-handed approach. Maybe she's seen it enough times.

Cutter is different.

The teenager sees the deputy moving towards the door and swivels on his stool, picture raised - eager, waiting to be noticed. The waitress grabs the boys arm. Not hard, but firm. She gives him a stern look - one from parent to child ... don't.

She looks back into the kitchen. The chef stands behind the pass-through, watching Cutter's back as he moves through the door. He looks back at the waitress and they share a look of concern.

The door slams shut behind the deputy. Both of them relax noticeably. The waitress releases the boys arm and returns to her duties without a word. The chef drops his gaze and returns to the kitchen. The boy looks down at his drawing for a moment, then continues working on it.

Marcus leans over to Ellis and Jocelyn, gesturing to the kid with his head.

"Did you notice the kid over there? He wanted to show his drawing to the Deputy... But his mom, the waitress, stopped him. Something weird going on there. Can you see what the drawing is, from where you're sitting?"

"Let me see if I can get a peek," Ellis replies to Marcus.

Marcus leans down with the pretext of tying a shoelace, and tries to get a better line of sight to the kid and his drawing.

Marcus leans over just as the teen moves to take a drink of his soda. The picture clearly visible on the counter in front of him.

Jocelyn goes to the counter to get some sugar and heads back to her seat, a perplexed look on her face.

He whispers to Jocelyn. "Did you see it too? A weird subject, for sure... Were those... trees with mouths?"

He briefly describes the strange drawing to Ellis.
"Best to pretend we didn't see it, for now. The mother seemed sensitive about that drawing..."

"I'm sorry," Ellis replies in disbelief, "Did you say trees with mouths?"

After a moment to settle down, he adds, "I agree with you, we saw nothing as far as anyone else is concerned."

What the heck is happening in this town? Ellis thinks to himself.

"I saw the trees were odd," Jocelyn says in a hushed voice, "but it was the kids around the fire holding hands and one of them...levitating...that caught my attention more."

"Levitating, or... jumping into the fire?" he replies softly. "Either way, that's a weird thing to draw..."

Noticing the waitress approaching with the coffee pot, he calls her over for a refill.
"Thank you so much... nice place you have here! Family ran, I guess?" he says jovially, in a casual conversational tone.

"And we haven't even ordered any food yet" Jocelyn adds, feeling something of a pit in her stomach. "Say ma'am, I could do with this hot roast beef sandwich," She turns the menu to face the waitress and points at the sandwich section with a smile.

"And could you ask Jim to be generous with the mustard? That is Jim in back, right?"

She turns to Clarissa who is sat next to her, quite possibly because of the swarm of boys around them. "How do you actually know Robert?"

Ann brightens at the question. "Family owned - that's right. I'm Ann." She tilts her head towards the kitchen. "That's Jim, and this ..." She ruffles the boy's hair "... is Jason."

Jason glances up from the picture and gives the group a smile and a small wave.

Ann takes everyone's order, scratching notes onto her pad in practiced shorthand. "I'll be back with your drinks, and food should be up shortly." She turns and calls out the orders to the kitchen, starting with Jocelyn's "Jim! Beef commercial, paint it yellow ..."

---

Clarissa looks over at Robert briefly, then back to Jocelyn. "He approached me one day not to long ago." She shrugs. "He's not really my type, if I'm being honest. I mean, I'm focused on making the Dean's list. He's a train wreck."

She pauses and sighs. "He caught me at the right time. I'm well ahead on all of my reading and assignments - I suppose I was in the mood to be distracted. When he mentioned this trip I thought - why not? A weekend out of Arkham." Her eyes light up. "Besides, the whole story of missing students. It's quite the intriguing mystery. Imagine if we actually found them."

That is pretty much the right answer for Jocelyn and she warms to Clarissa even more, though she still finds Blaine's behaviour quite odd. She never tried for the Dean's list herself when she was an undergrad, it had never even occurred to her to go that extra mile in the subjects she was less fond of, all to achieve an accolade.

"That drawing reminds me," she says in a lower tone, just meant for their table, "Robert!" she leans over to the next table where the leader of the expedition is sat "Remember you said I could have as much time with those books as I wanted if I came along? Well here I am and a promise is a promise.".

The thought has crossed Jo's mind that Blaine maybe wants Clarissa along so much because she is a woman. (The only other reason she can think of is her family connection.) With his interest in demonology, the strange drawing and with Daphne Devine having gone missing, her mind leads her to an unpleasant supposition that she prefers not to voice. But she does resolve to keep Clarissa close.

He nods his head smiling at the introductions.
"You don't get coffee like this, in Arkham. Or in Boston, for that matters! That's where I'm from. Hey, I can see Jason is quite the artist!"

"I'm always careful with books," Jo says a little brusquely, though she can sympathize with Blaine's concern. "In German eh? Interesting."

"Look," she says, aware that he is reluctant to hand the book over, "That's my case right next to your bag. I'll just pop it open," she produces a small key and unlocks the case, snapping the catches open. "There's room in there and your books will be safe as houses."

Once that is sorted and the truck is closed again, she turns back to Robert. "None of our group were here with the original search party besides you, is that right? I'm only asking because Clarissa and I have have been getting on like a house on fire, but I'm not entirely sure why you wanted a Chemistry major on board?"

She's quite curious to see how he will respond to that

Marcus smiles and concentrates on his lunch, glancing every now and then at Jason to catch his eye, in case he felt encouraged to show him the drawing after the praise and friendly chat with his mother.

As they leave the diner, Ellis leans in towards Marcus. "Feels like they know something more than they are letting on. I wonder what that is."

He then notices Robert walking up alongside them. "Robert," he says, "I see you have a good stack of books there. I've been picking up on some Latin in my studies, in case you could use any help with translation work."

Ellis waits briefly for Robert's reply before climbing back into the car he rode in on.

Given the run of the upper floor, Jocelyn has a good root around. She reckons this may well be where the first group stayed, so who knows...

Then she gets down to studying...

Made uneasy by the waitress's spotting of his interest in her son Jason and his drawing, Marcus is glad for the change of scenery.

While there is still daylight, he proposes to Ellis to accompany him outside to take a first look at the surrounding woods, and at the ruined buildings outside in the grounds. "We won't explore far. Just to get an idea of the nature, round here. Also wondering about that old barn and outhouse we saw from the window. "

Night has fallen by the time Jocelyn settles in and prepares to read. She lights the candles on the desk, arranging them in a loose arc, and draws the ancient tome towards her.

The cover is dark leather, soft with age. It leaves something on her fingers. Not quite residue. More like grease - or sweat. It's a sensation that causes her to wipe her hands on her skirt before proceeding.

She opens it.

There is a feeling that washes over her. A dread. It raises a cold sweat that slowly rises along her back and settles around her neck. The candles flicker, as if pulling back from the pages.

There is no table of content. No index. No introduction. Nothing to suggest this was written for others to read. Only chapter after chapter of cramped, obsessive script pressed into thin sheets of parchment. The ink fades to near invisibility in some places, causing full passages to be lost to time. One section of the book had been ravaged by mold. The material lost forever.

She loses track of time. The material seems to hold her, keep her from turning away. Hideous creatures are described in terrible detail. Drawings added where words seem to fail. There are diagrams. Incantations. Rituals for summoning the impossible. Why anyone would want to call on these daemons is beyond comprehension.

Jocelyn is deep into a passage when a draft comes from no-where.

All four candles blow out at once.

The darkness is absolute.

MARCUSThe sun is disappearing behind Broken Hill in the distance. There's enough daylight left for a quick look around, but the light is already waning.

The field outside the back of the farmhouse is unkempt and overgrown. The knee-high grass bends in a faint trail towards the outhouse - the only sign anyone has moved through here recently.

Nearby is a beautiful flowerbed surrounded by a ring of stones. The violets, daisies, buttercups, and lilacs that fill the plot are in full bloom.

In the distance, at the far edge of the property where the field meets the treeline, lays the old barn. It has collapsed under on it's own weight. Most likely rot and weather taking it down. The trees beyond are dark already.

Marcus tries to pinpoint the cause of his sense of unease, looking at the local nature.

Perhaps he is only tired for the journey...

MARCUS
Something moves in the forest. Marcus wasn't looking directly at it - catching it from the corner of his eye. It's hard to tell what it was. The movement is gone before he can turn. The trees at the far end of the yard have gone fully dark.

There. Movement. Between two trees. Then a flash. Is someone signalling with a flashlight? It was quick.

Another light. Deeper in. Further away. A brief pulse. Are two people signalling each other?

The sun has fully submerged behind the hills and darkness bleeds across the sky from the east. A cold wind blows past. It's getting dark, and cold. The movement, and the lights, have stopped.

Marcus shivers in the advancing darkness. Whatever is moving and flashing lights in the woods, it's way too dark (and potentially dangerous, judging by the recent disappearances) to investigate alone.

He makes a mental note, trying to pinpoint the place where he caught the movement and lights as best as he can, in relation to the old barn.

He hastens to go back inside, where he will share what he has seen with the others, including Robert.
"Worth taking a look around there in daylight, in case it is relevant to our search."

ELLIS
Darkness settles in and the sky lights up. You’re far enough from town, and any major city, for the stars to be impacted by light pollution.

Something streaks across the sky. Most likely a falling star. Then another. Six more falling stars flame across your vision.

A dog begins barking. It’s most likely at a far off neighbour, the sound muffled by distance. It seems to have found something of interest. The barking is incessant.

That’s when you notice the silence. The buzzing of insects, which had filled the night, have gone quiet.

MARCUS

MARCUS
Something about those lights nag at you.

They couldn’t have been flashlights. They were colourful. Almost as if changing colour during the flashes.

It was subtle, but the lights definitely changed - white, blue, green, pink. It was so quick. Maybe it was your eyes playing tricks on you in the light of dusk. Maybe.

MARCUS
The others gather around as you describe what you saw in the forest.

"I’ll come with you." Little Rod says. "I don’t like the idea of people watching us." He gives Marcus a reassuring smile.

"Yeah. I’ll come with you too." Noakes steps in beside Little Rod, his normally easy-going disposition showing concern.

"Don’t be stupid." Laslow scoffs. "Flashing multicoloured lights in the forest? I think you’re seeing things."

He settles back into his cot. "I’m not going traipsing around the forest - day or night."

Turning his back to the group, he adds. "It’s getting late and we have an early morning. I’d appreciate it if you’d all be quiet now so I can get some sleep."

The back door opens. Looking around, you note that Trent is missing.

JOCELYN
You awake as you step out of the thick undergrowth and into a clearing. Your feet ache from cuts and bruises. Thorn bushes have scratched your legs and arms. Somewhere along the way you lost a toenail, leaving a caked mess of blood and dirt.

You have no knowledge of where you are, or how you got here. The farmhouse is not visible from this vantage point.

Your last memory was in your room - maybe just after midnight. You must have been wandering for hours. The darkness of night is slowly being pushed back by a new sunrise.

At the centre of the clearing is a wide, low mound - some twenty or thirty feet across. Circling the mound are five standing stones, facing inwards towards a heavy stone slab. The standing stones are ancient - ranging from five to six feet in height. Some have strange symbols carved into them. The center slab is stained a dark brown.

Shivering and in a daze, Jocelyn's curiosity gets the better of her and she steps forward to examine the stones.

Marcus is surprised at Little Rod and Noakes' intent of going out to investigate in the dark.
"Hey folks, are you sure it isn't better to go and look in daylight? For all we know, whatever happened to the disappeared students, could happen to us, if we are not careful," he tries to dissuade them.

Then, the absence of Trent is noticed. "Wait. Nobody goes out until we find Trent... he was here only recently..."

Marcus looks around the shared house, calling Trent's name. "Jason? Trent? Come on guys, we have to find him..."

JOCELYN
A closer view of the stones reveal they’re not carved with symbols, but pictograms. Each stone has a scene carved into it.

One shows a group of people encountering a large beast. Another shows a group worshipping, or collapsing in front of the beast. Yet another shows members of the group killing, or sacrificing, other members.

The meaning behind the stones and carvings are hard to decipher without expert knowledge.

Near the center stone is evidence of a fire pit. Charred logs, almost fully burned to dust, lay in a pile of to the side.

Jocelyn can see a path leading away from the stones. It disappears around a bend choked in underbrush.

ELLIS
Shooting stars are not unusual. You’ve seen them many times before.

These, though. These were unusual.

The meteors streaked across the sky in almost the exact same path. All seven objects couldn’t have been more than a few yards away from each other.

While not impossible, the event was strange enough to catch your attention.

They also slowed as they progressed through their path - the lights disappearing somewhere in the hills beyond the trees.

MARCUS
"I don’t like the idea of someone spying on us." Little Rod says, frowning.

"Yeah." Noakes agrees. "It’s probably the sheriff and deputy checking up on us."

"That sheriff really has it out for us." Louis adds.

It takes a bit of convincing. Eventually, they all agree to hold off.

It’s about that time when you notice Jason missing. You’re about to split up to search for him when the back door bangs closed.

Jason Trent steps into the front room - stopping just inside the doorway. He stares uneasily, his wide eyes magnified by his lenses. He pushes his glasses up on his nose, and opens his mouth as if to say something. Instead, he slinks over to his cot and avoids eye contact.

The first thing Jocelyn thinks of is to take rubbings of the pictograms. She pats at her pockets as if she might have brought some paper and rubbing wax, or at least a soft pencil. But of course she hasn't. In fact, she now realizes she is in her camisole - not intending to leave her room after she started reading, she had got herself ready for bed.

She is horrified to find herself out here alone in her nighty; and she feels extremely vulnerable.

Pulling her arms around her shoulders, Jocelyn realizes she is also wearing a light dressing gown. Her hands automatically go to her pockets and there she finds a notebook. Letting out a laugh at her fortune, she opens it and pulls out a double page from the very middle, where she hopefully won't damage the string binding. Then another and another, enough she thinks to record everything. Stepping over to the firepit, she kicks some charcoal away then bends down and picks that up.

She takes a moment to hold her hand over the firepit, just in case it is still warm.

Then she sets to taking rubbings of the pictograms. Remembering the boy's drawing in the diner, she looks at the trees, expecting to see gaping mouths in their trunks. Shivering again, she curses herself for a fool, but she does wonder if the boy had been here and seen something here.

Finishing her rubbings, she finds she needs to relieve herself. She'd rather do that back at base, but she's not sure she knows where that is. She looks around, trying to work out the way home. The path looks inviting, but she is rather hoping it isn't that way.

The relief for having dissuaded the night outing is doubled when the missing Jason appears. However, the young man's demeanour gives him reason to pause.

Stepping casually near him he says softly (so the others cannot hear, "Jason. We got scared for a minute, not seeing you around... Everything all right, pal? Seen something upsetting?"

JOCELYN Jocelyn places a hand over the charred remains of the fire. It’s cold and dry - definitely not recent.

The trees in the area are thin and well spaced. These don’t look anything like the ones in Jason’s drawing. Still, this location is creepy.

After she captures the carvings in the stones, Jocelyn retraces her steps. They disappear into the undergrowth, but she’s able to rely on skill and experience to pick up her trail.

Luckily, she wasn’t trying to obscure her movements on the way here, otherwise this would have been much harder. Still, it’s a challenge to trace her progress.

Picking her way back proves difficult. Sharp stones pierce her damaged feet. Dry branches and thorn bushes tear at her legs and arms.

She finally exits onto an old dirt road only a few hundred yards from the standing stones. She can make out a farmhouse in the distance - not the MacLearan place, though.

Her trail continues ahead, but it’s impossible to say how far away she is from her friends.

What the devil? Ellis asks himself in surprise. He immediately grabs up his observation log and scribbles in notes on what he saw: location, direction, color, as well as their behavior and likely landing area.

Feeling suddenly alone and vulnerable under the wide night sky, Ellis quickly and quietly packs up his equipment and heads for the safety of the farmhouse. He shoulders his stuff down and looks back over his notes with shaky hands.

He sees Jason Trent lying on his cot and walks up gently. "Did you also see something strange?" he asks the young man, hoping it will get him to open up a bit.

Not quite home and dry yet, Jocelyn thinks to herself. She looks around a bit while she decides what to do. There are some flints by the trail, so she grabs one of those and makes a mark in a tree beside where she emerged from the woods. For good measure, she grabs a vine and ties it around the trunk.

Then she ducks back behind a bole to relieve herself so she can think straight.

"Everything is perfectly normal," she says out loud to herself, once she is done, "that's a perfectly normal farmhouse there." Jocelyn has read a gothic horror or two in her time, but she puts those thoughts out of her mind and starts to stride towards the farmhouse.

"Perfectly normal to be out in the woods in my nightie with my toe half ripped off", she says, "most normal and humdrum indeed."

"Yes, of course... We're going in the daylight, the more eyes, the better."
He observes the young man.

JOCELYN
The decaying two-story farmhouse sits in the middle of the desolate yard site. The cracked, dry dirt bakes in the morning sun. An old, beat up farm wagon lays in the side yard, loaded with hay gone grey with age. No horses in sight.

A porch, sagging with age, runs the full length of the front of the house. A rusty screen door, and dirt caked window provide a limited view inside. The dark kitchen is cluttered with pots, pans, plates and cutlery. No one is visible. The occasional buzz of a fly is the only sign of life.

Beside the door, a large wooden cross has been nailed directly onto the siding. A length of rope has been wrapped around the railing, from one end to the other. Heavy knots have been tied into the rope every foot or so. Cloves of garlic and small bundles of purplish flowers hang from the screen door frame. You can see similar bundles hanging inside the front window.

The area is quiet. If anyone is home, they are deep inside the house or may be sleeping.

A horse's neigh breaks the silence. It came from the barn visible behind the house.

Marcus also retires for the night, his dreams populated by strange shadows and ever-shifting lights moving in the black depths of the woods...

"Oh dear," Jocelyn says at the sight of the garlic, the sound of her own voice comforting her a touch.

JOCELYN
The state of the farm is uninviting to say the least. It wasn't until you reached the porch that your concerns eased somewhat.

You have studied cultures that have used wards to fend off evil. The garlic and cross are most likely used to defend against vampires. The flowers - most likely wolfs bane - used to hold back werewolves. The knotted ropes are believed to entrap and beguile spirits.

Whoever lives here is highly superstitious. Based on the creatures they are warding against, it's possible they have eastern European roots - or read too much pulp fiction.

MARCUS
You have a fitful sleep - tossing and turning deep into the night. You finally fall asleep right about the time Jocelyn creeps down the stairs and exits the farmhouse. You start awake at the soft bang of the back door closing.

You find yourself not in bed, but laying in a flowerbed. The immense night sky is full of twinkling stars and a huge gibbous moon rises directly above you. The moon is somehow sinister in a way that you cannot properly explain.

As you rise from the flowerbed, the flowers make a rustling noise, and as you stand, you realize the rustling noise continues. Turning around, you see the flowers seem to shudder of their own volition.

Backing away in fear, you find your gaze is taken towards the dark woods. Ugly shapes and creeping shadows move between the tree trunks, somehow almost human but twisted and smaller. Suddenly, a myriad of glowing eyes appear in the tree line, blinking and feral.

The rustling stops and from deep within the woods you hear a man's cry, long and painful.

You hear your name shouted aloud, twice - the second time so loud it wakes you. You are in your bed, sweating, confused, and frightened.

"Guten Abend!" Jocelyn calls, reasoning that many immigrants from Eastern Europe will know some German.

She steps up on to the porch. She is almost certain that the house is long empty, but you never know. She opens the screen door and knocks. She waits, then tries the door.

MARCUS & ELLISYou wake up the next morning to the smell of bacon and eggs cooking in the kitchen.

"Breakfast." Robert Blaine calls out, appearing at the kitchen door. "It's nothing special, but will get us through the morning."

Clarissa looks around at the group while filling her plate. "Where's Jocelyn?" She asks, looking over at Marcus and Ellis. "It looks like she made her bed and came down early, but I don't see her anywhere."

JOCELYN
Movement in the back of the house.

Someone crosses a hallway near the back. You only catch a shift of light in the dim light.

"Who's there." Someone calls in a heavy Romanian accent.

A match flares to life, pushing back the darkness. You see a short, grizzled, rough-looking man for a brief instance. He lights a cigarette.

The match is extinguished, leaving a bright cherry floating in the darkness. The smell of smoke wafts down the hall towards you.

"Oh hi!" Jocelyn says, trying to sound light and breezy. "My name's Jocelyn, sorry to barge in on you like this."

"Say, do you have a lamp?"

Marcus slowly walks to the breakfast area, welcoming the smell of coffee. A bad headache, and an unsettled feeling are the leftovers from the nightmares that populated his dreams.

Walking to a window facing the back of the house, he shields his eyes against the morning glare and looks out.
His gaze holds on the flowerbed, then goes to the treeline. It is so mundane and unremarkable in the daylight, yet... The images of his nightmare still linger in his mind...

He shivers, then turns to reach for a cup of coffee, nodding in thanks at Blaine. His eyes are looking around the table for Trent, when Clarissa steps forward to announce Jocelyn's absence.
"Are you sure she went to bed last night? Has anyone seen her doing that?" he asks Clarissa nervously.

Jocelyn raises her hands - this is not what she had been hoping for.

"Like I said, sorry to barge in on you like this, Mister". She backs away a little, "I was just hoping I might be able to stay at least until it gets light again. I mean there could be anything out there, wolves, bears. Something worse even."

Jocelyn is leaving. She still hopes he might change his mind though.

"Oh no... We can't start searching for missing students with some of us disappearing too!" he says, standing up.

"Blaine! We need to find Jocelyn, she didn't spend the night in the house! Nobody wander off alone, let's stay in groups!"


He opens the back door facing the back yard.
"I'll look at the back. Trent, Ellis, wanna come with me?"

Marcus points at the two obvious outbuildings in the back of the house: the outhouse and the large barn.

"I think the barn. Let's search there, even if to exclude that Jocelyn's in there. Check the ground for footprints, too..."

He approaches the barn with Trent, observing the ground for tracks as he does so - and careful not to step on any.
Let's see... Jocelyn's footprints would be of a smaller size than the men's...

Once at the barn, he will call out, then push the door open to look inside.

"Come on mister," Jocelyn puts her hand on her hips now, taking on an entirely different posture, "Look at the state of me. It's night-time, my feet are all bloody from traipsing through the forest barefoot. I'm a girl and I'm hardly a threat to you. I'm not a werewolf with your wolfsbane or a vampire with your garlic. And though I'm a mess, I'm hardly Baba Yaga with your knotted rope!
I'm clearly a damsel in distress and you, mister, want to kick me back out into the night instead of offering me a seat or a bowl of water for my feet. Really?"

MARCUSThe morning sun floods the back yard with warm light. There are trails to and from the outhouse. It had been used by the students through the evening, and even this morning.

The collapsed barn lays broken at the end of the yard. The tall grass engulfing part of it. It's dark stained roof peaking out above the seed heads.

Marcus scans the field spreading out towards the maple forest. The sun catches the dew just right and it highlights a trail leading past the outhouse and into the trees. The footsteps in the soft mud are small, delicate, and unshod. It's highly likely that this is Jocelyn's footprints.

All the colour drains from Jocelyn's face. Typical of a man to go for the witch argument, she thinks.

But she's not going to argue the toss with the open end of a shotgun barrel. She backs away, ready to duck and bolt for it if she needs.

Marcus beckons the others, calling out to inform them. "I found her footprints! Over here! Call Blaine and the others, let's focus the search in this direction!"

He waits for them to regroup before going further into the woods where the tracks lead.

With the immediate danger gone, Jocelyn suddenly feels incredibly tired. She looks around to try and work out which way is home. Then she puts one foot in front of the other...

He waits for Trent and Ellis before starting their search.
"Stay within earshot!" he tells the other groups before advancing in the woods.

As he walks, he starts calling loudly, "Jocelyn! Jocelyn!!!"

MARCUS
Marcus, Trent and Ellis charge through the trees. The path that was clearly visible in the tall grass is much more difficult to follow along the forest floor.

Jocelyn's name can be heard echoing out among the trees as the teams spread out. The calls grow faint as the groups move apart.

Progress is slow. The trail breaks time and again, but Marcus manages to hold onto the vaguest of signs. A footprint here. A broken branch there. The possibility that they are no longer following Jocelyn's trail nags at him.

A hare bounds into a clearing to their left. It stops and tastes the air, ignorant of the scent.

Movement at the treeline behind it.

A large rat breaks from the undergrowth, downwind. It shuffles along slowly, moving closer. It's dark, greasy hindquarters shine in the dim light.

It rises to it's hind legs. Advances - upright. Stepping carefully, one foot in front of the other. Hunting.

It turns slightly, presenting it's profile.

Tentacles extend out from it's snout - tasting the air, thin and active. They writhe - reaching out, then pulling back.

The rat lifts something from it's side. The light catches it - a blade.

It continues forward. Unaware of the spectators.

"I most certainly am, Mister!" Jocelyn replies with her grimy hand shielding her forehead. "I'm looking for the MacLearan farm. Am I headed the right way?"

Marcus drops down low, trying to pull his companions to the ground too. He gestures to be quiet.

He feels his hair stand on end at the sight.
Rats don't walk upright... They definitely DON'T have tentacles, or use blades... What the heck is this thing? Is it dangerous?

Doubting his eyes, he whispers softly, "Do you see it too?"

MARCUS
Jason Trent drops into a crouch beside Marcus - eyes wide, cheeks flushed. "I see it." He whispers, pushing his glasses up without looking away. Enthralled.

The rat-thing closes the remaining distance in a low, fluid rush. It leaps onto the hare, tackling it to the ground. The blade drives forward quickly, stabbing viciously - tossing a fine arc of blood as its pulled back. It strikes over and over.

The rabbit goes limp in the creature's arms. It holds it against it's chest for a moment, tentacles caressing the white fur. It straightens and swings the carcass onto its back, adjusting it's grip, before jogging away through the grass and into the forest.

Beside Marcus, Trent hasn't moved. His glasses have slid down again. He doesn't push them up this time.

"What," he says quietly, to no one in particular, "was that."

"Well am I ever pleased to have you cross my path, Mister Joe Harlow. My name's Jo too, Jocelyn Schneider. She extends a grimy hand once she has got up into the vehicle.

"Your neighbour back there, a fellow from Romania I think. He seemed a lot less friendly. Seems like something has got him spooked..." She leaves that hanging there as a question while she works out how to ask about the family photo.

Still whispering in shock, Marcus turns to his companions. "What on Earth?... That thing... whatever it is... could it be responsible for the missing students? I mean, it looked... intelligent. It used a blade, for God's sake! What the heck was it?"

Surprised by Trent's action, he calls out. "Jason? No! Stop, Jason!! We have to stay together, that thing looks dangerous!"

Shaking Ellis by the arm he says, "Come on, we can't lose him..."

He starts following Jason's footsteps, then stops to look for a sturdy stick, or rock... Anything to use to defend himself from that strange thing.

"I think he did take me for one of those things, yes," Jocelyn says, her tone as serious as Joe's, "can't say as I blame him, with me all dishevelled like I am. And it seems there are quite a few such tales around these parts.."

She lets silence descend for a moment. Then, "This looks like happy times," she indicates the photo, "Is that your daughter?"

Marcus approaches slowly, stopping a few paces away from Jason.
"Jason? Are you all right? We... We must stick together, remember?"
As he calls, his eyes scan nervously ahead of the man, to see what could be captivating his attention - or for signs of where the weird creature could be hiding.

"Well Lily must be a fine teacher if she's as kindhearted as her Pa," Jocelyn says.

"As for me, I'm up from Arkham University. I'm a grad student, archaeology. I get a feeling around here might be interesting, you know, the indigenous peoples, but I'm actually here with a group trying to find out about those kids who went missing. Do you know about them?"

Jocelyn gulps. She tries to sound professional, "Are there any records of where that burial ground is?" she asks, "And would I be right in thinking you were worried about Lily getting caught up in this while she was still young?"

He looks at Jason with suspicion. He wasn't himself, a moment ago... What's wrong with him?

"Yes, I was calling you. What else did you hear?... I think we'd better go back and regroup with the others..."

He starts walking away towards the voices calling Jocelyn in the distance, a little spooked by Jason's behaviour, and not really wanting to be alone with him.

MARCUS
Jason nods and follows Marcus. He starts off a bit wobbly, but sticks close enough.

---

Marcus follows the bellows and eventually catches up with Little Rod, Noakes and Clarissa.

"Hey Marcus." Little Rod calls out. He pushes his way through the underbrush and moves in closer, concern etched in his face. "Did you see anything?"

He turns back to Noakes, whose down on one knee searching the ground. "Will had the trail for a while, but lost it."

He whispers to the back of his hand and wiggles his eyebows. "Regular bloodhound, that one."

"I heard you." Noakes calls out, straightening. He gives the group a shy smile. "Had her for a while, but lost it."

He rubs the back of his neck and looks around, searching the forest floor. "I don't think we're going to find her. Maybe we should head back to the house and call the sheriff."

He glances at Marcus. "Maybe they have some search dogs?" He offers hopefully.

Relieved to regroup with others, he tries to calm down after the strange sights.

"No luck either... But... We saw something strange in the woods. Didn't we, Jason?" he looks at Trent to see if he remembers, after his odd acting.
"We saw a rat... But large as a dog. It sounds crazy, but... We saw it hunting with a tool. A blade. It killed a hare with it. We stayed in hiding, that thing looks dangerous."
He looks at Trent again. "I would think I was hallucinating, but... Jason saw it too."

Marcus then nods at Noakes' suggestion. "It could be best, yes..."

While Jocelyn takes note that Joe hasn't answered her question about his daughter, she feels she has pushed the kind soul enough. Thanking him for his suggestions, she turns the conversation to small talk, what people around here plant most, what the weather is like and who the local characters are.

MARCUS

Jason looks up, confusion crosses his face. "I remember the rabbit."

He turns and looks back towards the clearing. It's no longer visible through the throng of trees. He keeps looking anyways. "And then I was ..." He starts, then stops - quieter. "I think I had a daydream. It was so vivid."

He turns back to the group. "I was in a flowerbed - I think it was the one outside the farmhouse. Someone was screaming from the forest. Then ..." He pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "... someone called my name."

He lowers his eyes to the ground and kicks at the dirt with a shoe. The tips of his ears going red.

"I don't remember the rat thing."

"Did you say the rat had a blade?" Clarissa asks. She looks from Marcus to Rod, then back again.

JOCELYN
Joe pulls up in front of the MacLearan farmhouse. He waits for Jocelyn to enter the house before pulling away.

The cars are still parked out front. No one is out front. Luckily enough, she has returned home before the group started out on their searches.

The door opens to silence.

The smell of breakfast hangs in the air. A few plates sit balanced on the fireplace mantle - food half finished.

There is no sound of movement from upstairs, no voices from the kitchen - even Blaine's room sits open and empty.

"I know how this sounds... but, yes. That's what I have seen. It... It hunted on two legs too. I think it might be worth searching for it, in case... in case that creature is responsible for the students' disappearance. It looked dangerous, nobody should go in the woods alone. Best in a large group... and armed."

Suddenly extremely hungry, Jocelyn sets to filling the pit in her stomach.

MARCUS
Clarissa is about to respond when Noakes cuts in. "I believe you saw something out there."

He covers the distance in a few strides and drops a heavy arm across Marcus's shoulders. "I'll come back with you for another look - maybe after lunch. Or first thing tomorrow." He gives Marcus's shoulder a squeeze and glances around at the others, giving them a weak smile.

Rod nods, but remains quiet. His expression difficult to read.

Clarissa, on the other hand, is unable to hide her concern. "How much sleep did you get last night?" She seems to be trying to solve an equation.

"Stress and a tired mind can do strange things in low light. Also, rats can stand on their hind legs. And they're known for their interest in collecting shiny objects."

She shrugs, as if accepting the plausible solution. "It's possible it was a combination of all these things that made you believe what you saw."

Robert Blaine's voice cuts through the awkward silence that follows. He is somewhere off near the house calling out names, attempting to muster the students together again.

Marcus nods at Clarissa, but decides to stay silent and not press the matter further.

He motions towards Blaine's calling voice, but maneuvers so he stays near Trent.
When the opportunity to talk to him discreetly presents itself, he whispers "I thought you had seen the standing rat and the blade... You said so! I need to know what happened there in the woods. Our safety might depend on it. What else did you see when you zoned out? You seemed to be looking deep in the woods. Will you tell me, Jason? "

He pats Jason on the shoulder, to let him off the hook with a smile. "Don't worry, pal. I think those woods are very weird. We should only go back in there as a large group."

He nods to Blaine. "Let's follow the others now," he says heading to rejoin the group.

The group makes it's way back to the MacLearan farmhouse without much talk. What conversation remains is low - a question, a murmured response, nothing loud enough to overheard.

Everyone is quiet. Reflective. The worry is palpable in the silence as everyone leaves the forest and crosses the field towards the house.

Nobody says what everyone is thinking ... another lost student.

Jocelyn is just out of the tub in the kitchen. She is wrapped in a towel feeling somewhat cleaner, but still extremely sleepy, and is currently sat on a chair investigating her big toe, which has split right in the front beneath the nail.

"Jocelyn?!? You're here?" his first reaction is one of surprise - and relief.

Then he realizes the senior student is only wearing a towel, and he clumsily turns around to give her some privacy - it would be un-gentlemanly not to do so. "Oh. I'm sorry. We... we've been searching for you in the woods! Where have you been, you didn't sleep in the farm, last night! What happened? Are you hurt?"

"Only my feet really," Jocelyn replies, "I think I sleepwalked," she hesitates, "or something like that, I was reading, then I felt a bit drowsy, then I was, well, in the forest. But I'm ok.

"There was a house, an old guy from Romania I think. He had all these wards up around the house, you know, for vampires and werewolves and forest spirits. He seemed spooked, thought I was a witch.

"But then this nice farmer, a guy called Joe, well, he gave me a ride. Told me something about this place. Said that some folk believe there's some sort of curse on this place. One that affects young folk.

"He gave me some suggestions of who to talk to too. But the young folk, well, that kinda makes sense doesn't it? With why we are here and all."

She realizes that she has blurted that all out at Marcus, and is still not dressed. "I reckon I'd beat go get dressed , eh. Oh, one other thing. There was a place with these engraved stones and all."

She finishes describing her adventures then heads upstairs to get dressed.

Marcus tries to grasp the implications of her account, after Jocelyn leaves to get dressed.

Sleepwalking... Then how much of what she remembers is real? The guy from Romania with the wards? It sounds like a dream... And the curse affecting only young people.... seems something from a fairy tale. I must ask her about the stones, and the engravings. Could those be real? Can she find them again? Does she mean standing stones?

He reflects on the sleepwalking aspect, and how he has observed Jason Trent completely zoning out in the woods. Was that the same thing that happened to Jocelyn?
Was the standing, tentacled rat a dream too? Was I sleepwalking or in a trance myself?

He looks at the back door of the farm, wondering if they should put some sort of chime or bell there at night, as well as on the front door, to hear potential people leaving in the middle of the night.

He goes looking for Blaine to speak of his concerns.

Marcus feels Jocelyn's confusion - and possibly her awareness that this wasn't sleepwalking, but something else altogether.

The notion renders him, in turn, more confused. What happened to Jocelyn and Trent? Am I sure it didn't happen to me too? Did I stay conscious and sober, or did I zone out, like they seem to have done?
What in these woods is causing these blackouts?

Once she is fully dressed, Jocelyn comes downstairs again to talk to the others. She fills in some of the missing details such as the burial ground that Joe had mentioned, and the gold.

"Joe suggested I talk to the local librarian," she says, "A Miss Mabel Carruthers. He also suggested a Mr. Wendell at the Gazette. I'm pretty wrecked but I'm not sure I could sleep right anyway. Why don't we try one of those?"

Glad to hear some avenues of investigation closer to his comfort zone, he nods at Jocelyn. "That sounds like a good idea. I also suggest to stick.together, as much as possible. I'm not liking what we experienced last night. Gazette first?"

"As you wish," Jocelyn agrees.

Blaine starts organizing people. He sends a couple of groups into the hills to search for signs of the missing students.

He glances over at Jocelyn and Marcus when they mention the Gazette. "You two are heading into town?" He asks.

Without waiting for a response, he turns and calls out. "Clarissa!" The young woman looks over, raising an eyebrow at her name being called.

"Would you mind joining these two?" Blaine finishes and waves her over.

He continues when Clarissa joins the group. "I think it's good to have three in a group. You all have your strengths."

She crosses the room and falls in beside Jocelyn. "Glad to have you back. I was worried." She whispers with a shy smile. Her eyes move to Marcus, but turn away quickly.

Blaine addresses the three of them together. "People in town are going to vary. Some will talk freely. Others won't give you anything without the right approach. You'll have to feel everyone out. We need something that is going to get us closer to finding Daphne and John."

Jocelyn places a friendly arm on Clarissa's shoulder, behaviour that is not her norm. "Let's go find Mr Wendell then," she says cheerfully, wondering herself at why she has her arm there.

He nods at the journalist, wondering how to approach him. "Mr Wendell, yes we thought that you've been looking into the students' disappearances longer than we have... Perhaps we can compare notes? Ultimately, we all want to find out what happened to them..."

"So, last time we spoke we were in agreement the police might not be looking too thoroughly into this? You are a local, and an expert at digging for truth... Do you have a working theory of your own, concerning the disappearances, and the death of Patterson?"

"And another thing," Jocelyn jumps in, "I'm an anthropologist. Do.you know of any Indian burial grounds around here, or anything of the like?"

Marcus shivers at the tale. When a creature is mentioned, he is reminded of the strange rat thing he saw.

He looks at Jocelyn and Clarissa, to see their reactions.

Then, turning to Wendell, "did you manage to salvage the photograph you took? Or did it burn with the rest?"

"This might sound silly... and I need your word you will not write it in the paper... I think I saw a creature too, last night. In the woods behind the farm we're staying at. It wasn't flying, but... walking like you and I. But... it was a large rat. And it handled some kind of blade too. I saw it kill a hare. Have you... heard of something like that before, round here?"

Marcus squints his eyes trying to see more details in the blurry image.
"It's... It's pretty vague. Something very large, though... I don't know of any birds that size... do you?"

He looks at Wendell, lowers his voice "Look, I believe you... there are strange things at work here. But we cannot talk about them in public... Especially if the police are destroying evidence so blatantly!"

"I have a proposition... we share information quietly, on this. What we suspect, What we see... But we keep it between us, no article in the press, no names. No public meetings. How does that sound? Shake on it?"
HE offers his hand.

Marcus appeals to Wendell's common sense, as the man doesn't seem to realize the dangerous predicament he is in.

"Look, you said it yourself: the deputy called you a liar and even threatened you! Can't you see? They won't let you write about this! You cannot stubbornly ignore the danger you're in, after they set fire to your darkroom! Your career? It could end here!"

He shakes his head. "They are trying to hide something. And we can find out what it is, if you help us. But you've got to convince them you gave up on the story, or you might be the next body mysteriously found in the wild!"

Marcus thanks Wendell, relieved to see he managed to make him more cautious, for now...
He looks at the list of names.

Jocelyn spots Mabel Carruthers on the list and her interest is piqued. "Miss Carruthers..." she says with a pause, "Can you tell me about her? I know she's the librarian here, but i got the feeling she's got some connection with Joe Harlow?"

She pauses again. "Like he's sweet on her or something."

Marcus is surprised at Jocelyn's comment about a possible romantic connection between the two...
He stays silent, waiting for Wendell's response.

Addressing Jocelyn, he suggests "perhaps we could part ways to cover more grounds... if you are looking into Miss Carruthers, I can try to visit the Reverend?"

He asks Wendell, "your list of names is incredibly useful, thanks... Is there something I should know about Reverend Wilson, before approaching him?"

"I feel we should try one of these leads together," says Jocelyn, "To be honest, I'm not much of a conversationalist".