“Are we really saying that the sheriff is compromised?” says Monica. “That he’s an Exploder?”

Tyler says, “We don’t have enough to say for certain. Like Ben said, it could be a bruise or he cut himself shaving.”

Monica snorts and says, “Maybe it’s a hickey.”

“They’ve got to be the buyers though, right? The Exploders?” I say. “The ones collecting people for the mass event?”

“That tracks,” says Tyler. “They did the kidnapping in Akron, hit the bank for money and possibly to distract from the kidnapping. They hit Candace’s house because her husband took her kids to that church….”

“We need more on the husband,” says Monica. “Amir!”

“Yo!” The young man’s head is hanging down again from the cabover.

“Dig into Craig Engstrom, please,” says Tyler. “Oh, and have you found anything on plus signs?”

Amir says, “Yeah, that symbol kinda popular right now. I mean, it’s literally positive, right? I’ve found a lot but I’m still sifting. Nothing yet that makes sense but I'm putting together a list.”

“Craig Engstrom,” says Tyler. “Find out about him first. Then plus signs.”

“Yep,” says Amir and then he retreats back up into his workspace above.

“What about this church?” says Monica.

I say, “I remember Stacy or Candace telling me it’s a megachurch of some kind.” I look behind me at the dinette.

The two women are huddled there together. Stacy has pulled Candace to her breast and she’s stroking her hair. Candace’s eyes are closed. She might even be sleeping.

Tyler says, “She said they weren’t answering the phone but Craig was probably lying. Still, it’s something we should look into when we get the chance.”

She pulls the motorhome into the parking lot of the sheriff’s office soon after that. We collect Candace and all of us go inside, Amir trailing behind us, typing on Monica’s laptop with one hand while carrying it on the palm of his hand with the other. He sits in the waiting area without looking up.

Interrogation Room 2 is clean and dry and it doesn’t have that two-way mirror. It seems a little more private. We put Candace in there by silent consensus. Stacy sits with her. The rest of us go back into the hallway.

I’m looking at the sheriff’s office.

“Don’t even think about it,” says Monica.

“What?” says Tyler.

“He’s thinking of searching Abernathy’s office,” says Monica. "Aren't you?"

I shrug. “If one of us could get away with it—.”

“No,” says Tyler. “We don’t have a warrant or enough probable cause to get one.”

“Oh shit!” It’s Amir. He’s hurrying towards us. "I found something!"

He’s almost to us when we hear the sheriff’s voice over the radio by the detectives’ desks. “All units to St. Al’s. I repeat, all units to St. Alphonsus.”

Amir frowns and gestures at the radio. “That's what I found. The symbol for St. Al’s is a stylized plus sign,” he says. "It's big and meant to handle lots of people, especially kids."

“What’s St. Alphonsus?” I ask.

Amir says, “A fucking school.”

Tyler’s phone rings and she answers it, turning away from us.

“Exploders have infiltrated a school?” asks Monica. “That’s really bad.”

“Is that in town?” I ask.

Monica shakes her head. “Over in Ravenna.”

“Are we going?” I ask.

“Damn straight we’re going,” says Monica. “I better tell Candace though.” She goes off to Interrogation 2.

I look at Amir.

“You get anything on Craig?” I say.

“Nothing jumped out at me,” says Amir. “I couldn’t find anything on him. He’s squeaky clean. Deacon of his church. Very holier than thou on social media but hasn't posted in a while. But aside from being a bit of a dick, nothing else.”

For a moment, I think the lights are dimming, or maybe adjusting to a power surge or something. It’s not. It’s the aethings. It’s not a flareup or a spike. It’s a general darkening all around and I hate it.

“What’s wrong, dude?” says Amir. “You look like you’re about to barf.”

“Somethings wrong,” I say.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Tyler puts her phone away. She says, “Sheriff wants us at the school. Right now. When he spoke to the principal she was able to access their security at home. Six strange men carrying long duffel bags entered the gym from a side door ten minutes ago. Now the cameras there aren’t working.”

“Shit,” I say.

“SWATs been called,” says Tyler. “Our own HRT team's been called in too, along with the bomb squad though we still don’t know how they blow themselves up after they're dead. Ben, he offered you a vest. Mo and I stashed ours in the RV after we lost our car.”

“Oo,” says Monica. “He gave us access to the armory? I wanna see.”

Tyler says. “Come on then. You two wait here.”

So, Amir and I are left looking at each other.

He opens his mouth, probably to make a joke or enter into some small talk, when the front door opens and Gerald Whately comes in moving quickly for such a big man. He looks frantic and he approaches the desk and receptionist. He sees me standing in the hall and gawks.

“Mr. Walker?” he says. “What’re you doing here? Are you a cop?”

I shake my head. “I’m a consultant with the FBI now,” I say. It still sounds weird when I say it.

“The FBI? Oh, thank God,” he says. “My brother’s kids are missing.”

We sit him down in the waiting area and I’m about to send Amir for the agents when they reappear with the bulletproof vest they found for me. I put it on.

Whately is distraught, rubbing his big hands together and fidgeting in the plastic chair. He tells us that his grandmother took the kids out for fast food earlier for dinner and didn’t return. Now, Grandma isn’t returning their calls. His brother and his wife are out looking for the kids and Whately came here.

“Your niece and nephew don’t go to St. Alphonsus, do they?” asks Monica.

“Nope,” says Whately. “My family’s been Lutherans forever though Grandma started going to this new place. A big megachurch just outside town.”

The aethings get a little darker and I start to feel nauseous. I’ve never seen them like this and it’s so weird. It’s like there’s an eclipse going on that I can see and not see at the same time, almost as if you could put the side your head in a dark room and the other half somewhere well lit, only I have both eyes out in the waiting area of the Sheriff’s office, bright as day, while the cold black badness grows all around me.

I say, “What’s the name of that church?” My voice must have something in it because everybody looks at me.

Whately says, “Good Friends of Our Savior, I think.”

I walk down to Interrogation 2, knock on the door, and then poke my head in. “Candace?” I say. I don’t want her to see me freaking out. I’m doing everything I can to keep my face impassive. She’s sitting there with Stacy, braiding her hair, of all things.

“Is Alex here?” she says.

“Not yet,” I say. “I’m sure he’ll be here any moment. Hey, can you tell me the name of that big church you told me Craig goes to?”

“Good Friends of Our Savior,” she says. “It’s just outside town.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Uh, bye.” I hurry back to the waiting area.

Whately’s looking at me when I get back, his expression is confused like he’s just remembered something he wanted to ask me but can’t believe he’s going to get an answer.

I know what he’s going to ask, so I just wait even though everybody else clearly wants to know what the hell I was going on about with the church.

Whately says, “Mr. Walker? I know this isn't really the time but, dammit, did you give me ten thousand dollars the other day?”

I say, “I wish you’d call me Ben. Yes, I did. I won it, didn’t need it, and you’d just lost your car. It’s not a big deal—.”

“The fuck it’s not—,” he says.

“Please,” I say. I turn to the others. “It’s not a plus sign,” I tell them.

Everybody just looks at me.

“In the ledger,” I say. “For the sale of the kids.”

“For the sale of the what now?” says Whately.

“It’s a cross,” I say.

Soon, we’re all piling into Interrogation Room 2. Stacy and Candace stand, unsure of what’s going on, but once it’s clear that we asking about the church and that Whately’s family has a connection, they start filling us in. Both Candace and Whately have been there at the urging of family members, though only Craig and Whately’s Grandma are regulars there.

“It’s big,” Candace says as Whately nods. “Really big. Like, it has a mini-mall inside, big.”

“Yeah,” says the big nurse. “A Christian bookstore, a clothing store, ice cream parlor, a couple of food places. Oh, and they've got a private school and daycare downstairs.”

“The sanctuary’s big too,” says Candace. “It was only a little over half full when I went.”

Whately nods.

“They’re always recruiting too with singles mixers and fund-raisers. They like to partner up with other organizations and, like, the library or something. Combine a bake sale and a carnival or a dance. Stuff like that,” says Candace.

Whately says, “But then the preaching starts.” He rolls his eyes.

It’s Candace’s turn to nod.

“It’s that old scare ‘em into the pews shit?” says Whately, rolling his shoulders. “Fire and brimstone and end of the world, man. A real downer. You could tell that some of them were really into it, you know? Those empty happy faces, just clapping along when they brought out the rock band during the service doing covers of eighties and nineties stuff but with the lyrics changed. There’s an odd vibe to the place too. It’s contradictory. Like, inviting? But not.”

“Insular,” says Candace. “But open.”

“Yes!” says Whately. “Thank you.”

At our blank looks, Candace explains. “They want you there and so they’re very welcoming and all happy to see you, but once you’re in they kind of want to keep you for themselves. Once Craig became a deacon there, well, I hardly saw him.”

“Grandma too,” says Whately. “I mean, she’s eighty-four, right? Taking the kids there every once in a while after Donnie and Khadijah stopped going. They didn’t have the heart to tell her she couldn't and so, every Sunday night they’d deprogram the kids afterwards, is what they called it. They were getting sick of the whole mess. We talked about it every week.”

Monica says, “So, doom and gloom, end of the world stuff for the sermons, lots of new people brought in by the true-believers, and once you’re in you’re special and everybody else is deluded and lost.”

Both Whately and Candace nod.

There are a bunch more questions but soon me, Tyler, and Monica are in the hallway. We’re all thoughtful for a moment.

I say, “Something’s really wrong. The aethings are getting darker, blocking out the light ones. They have been for maybe an hour. I think whatever this is, the mass event? It’s at the church.”

Tyler nods. “While the sheriff has asked for us to be at the school.”

“Diversion?” asks Monica. "He's sending us to the wrong place on purpose?"

Tyler sighs. “We don’t know for sure the sheriff is compromised. If we go to the church while the real deal is at the school….”

“What?” says Monica. “They’ve got plenty of folks there. Two SWAT teams? The bomb squad? They'll never miss us.”

“If Abernathy’s in on it, he’ll stall,” I say. “He'll delay whatever’s going on at the school, won't he? If anything is, I mean. The principal could be one of them too.”

“Abernathy’d wait and be careful either way,” says Monica. “There could be kids there. There could be kids at both locations, for all we know.”

“We do not want a Tunguska event on the edge of town or in Ravenna,” I say. “Whatever’s happening is going to happen soon.”

“Can you feel which way to go?” says Monica. “School or church?”

“My gut says church,” I say. “But otherwise no. I can’t feel it. Maybe if I knew for sure already I could feel it? I dunno.”

Monica smacks herself in the forehead. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a quarter. “Heads for church?” she says.

We all nod.

She flips the coin.