[MD1, 4:00PM, PA Route 118]

They were halfway to World’s End when it occurred to Kate that the reason her hands were hurting was that she was gripping the steering wheel too tightly. Her mind wasn’t completely focused on the road, either, but try as she might to avoid it, her mind kept wandering. What would have happened if there hadn’t been a pilot on board, if the plane had gone down? Who would have taken care of her kids? And of course, there was the almost inevitable replay of events. She was pleased with the way the team had worked together to deal with the emergency. They all deserved - and probably desperately needed - a little time to recover, but time was a luxury. If they really had been the primary targets of the hijacker, then getting to World’s End and finding out what was going on there was even more vital.

>Once settled in a car, Newt was able to pause and reflect on
>what had happened .. and on what the woman had said to
>him. Finally he spoke, "Kate?"
>
>"Hmm?" she said looking at him through the rearview mirror
>as she drove.
>
>"Can we take the bus next time?"

Kate smiled and bit back a laugh. "I was thinking trains myself," she said, half-seriously. "Think of it this way. The odds of being on a hijacked flight are probably something like one in a billion. So the odds of it happening twice are, well, astronomical." She glanced back at him once again, and could see that he was somewhat less than convinced.

In the passenger seat, Sharlyn was trying to trace their route on the map, not an easy task in this area, where roads were laid out arbitrarily and the most direct route from point A to point B led through most of the rest of the alphabet. "It looks like our best bet is to take 497 north, then double back on Interstate 220 to highway 154," she said. "The turn off should be coming up in a few minutes."

"Assuming that it’s marked," Kate said. "Any towns along the way?"

"A couple. Laporte comes first." She frowned as she checked the population info printed above the map. "Population 230. The other one is Forksville. It’s even smaller."


[5:00PM, Laporte, PA]

They stopped at the general store - it had to be a general store, because it was the only store in town - to pick up some provisions. The little town also had a combination bank and post office, one church, and three bars, one of which had a large cardboard sign on the door advertising "home cookin’ - good eats". As far as they could tell from the only other sign in the vicinity, the name of the place was just "Bar". After a brief discussion, they decided to take a chance on it.

The establishment was dingy, run down, and there was a coating of grease and dust on every surface, including the sole patron, an old man sitting at the bar staring into his beer. A waitress who was leaning on the bar near him looked up as the team entered. She groaned. "Hey, Hank," she said, just loud enough to be overheard, "take a gander. More of them government types. Pro’bly lousy tippers like the rest of ‘em."

"Uh, yup," Hank said.

Kate exchanged glances with the rest of the team, recalling Flynn’s question back in the office about government activity in the area. "What do you mean by that," she asked.

"I mean, you government people are getting notorious around here for being lousy tippers," the waitress said. "Problem with that?"

"Not at all," Kate replied. "I just find it hard to believe that there are a lot of federal employees in this area. It’s… kind of out of the way."

"Just how we’d like to keep it, too," Hank put in defensively.

"Last six months or so there’s been a regular epidemic of you people. Like you didn’t know. So what’s the deal, anyway, or are you gonna be as hush-hush as the rest of ‘em?"

"We have no idea what you’re talking about," Flynn said.

The waitress laughed. Hank grinned at her. "Sounds like ‘em, don’t it Betsy," he said.

"Sure does."

As the team arranged themselves around two small tables they had pushed together, Betsy made no move to approach them. Kate looked at her for a moment. "Could we get some menus?" Betsy shrugged, pulled a stack of menus out and set the on the bar. She looked at the agents with a challenge in her expression. Kate sighed, got up and picked up the menus. "Are we going to have to cook our meals and serve ourselves as well," she asked.

"That’s not a bad idea."

So much for small town hospitality, Kate thought. "We’re with the FBI," Kate explained. "We’re here because two of our agents disappeared near here. We were not aware of any other activity in the area." She smiled. "Of course, the sooner we can find out what happened to them, the sooner we’ll be out of here. If there’s anything you can tell us that might expedite our investigation…"

"Sorta makes sense," Betsy said. "But I don’t know a thing about it, ‘cept that I’ve been hearing some strange stories lately."

"Like what," Flynn asked. He was now standing next to the bar, and the rest of the team was gathering around as well.

"Hank here can tell ya. One of ‘em happened to him."

"Uh, yup," Hank said. "Out to World’s End. I was out there training my dogs. Hunting dogs, ya know, giving ‘em a run afore the season starts up. Had ‘em for years. Good dogs, never run off once. Somethin’ spooked ‘em, though. Three of ‘em just up and disappeared. Never seen hide nor hair since. I heard talk of some weird noises ‘round there at night, too, but I ain’t never heard it."

"My cousin, Alice, mentioned that," Betsy said. "Lives up at Forksville. That’s right at the edge of the park. Said it seemed to come from somewhere on the grounds. Says sometimes, it gets so loud, no one in town can sleep all night."

"That’s a lot a bull," Hank said.

"Hank’s from Forksville, too," the waitress explained. "But how would you know? You’re passed out drunk by nightfall."


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