As Frank’s GPS program began searching for the five food delivery trucks, Karen remembered something. “You know...Reg still has that key to...whatever it’s a key to.”

“What key?” Frank asked, turning to look at her. Why was there always one tiny but important piece of information they always seemed to leave out?

“Reg had it in his pocket. We thought that maybe it was to either a locker or one of those Mailboxes, Etc.-type places. It had a serial number on it, and we found that there was one of those places on 5 Mile, only a couple miles from where we found Reg. But it was midnight, and we were all tired, and the place wouldn’t have been open anyway. And breaking and entering just to find out if the key went to a box there wasn’t real high on my list of things to be arrested for.”

“Bud id would’a been easy,” Justin commented. “Jusd ‘Loog ober dere, honey!’ and id wouldn’ be breaging and endering!”

“Right. With you all doped-up on the stuff Weeping Sparrow gave you,” she said to Justin. Turning back to Frank, she continued, “We figured Reg would be safe enough there, with all of us to keep an eye on him, until morning...and then we’d go check it out.”

Frank looked at her like she was the one doped-up on something. “You figured he’d be safe.... Uh-huh.” He shook his head, and Karen stared down at the scarf tassels she was stretching out of shape. He always made her feel like she was an idiot. It wasn’t her fault. At least she’d remembered the key. No one else did. And she’d just been woken from a sound sleep a couple hours ago

She took a deep breath. “Anyway, I was thinking that maybe we could go stake out the mailbox place, in case he just got on the freeway instead of going to City Airport, while you work on tracking the trucks.”

“What’s the address?” Frank asked.

Karen grinned at her lap. So he didn’t think she was a complete idiot.... She gave him the name and address of the place, and Terri took the ramp onto the west-bound Ford.

Unfortunately, it was the middle of rush hour by now, and the Ford was at a crawl in both directions. But it was still going to be faster to get to Livonia that way than it would be to take surface streets.

Finally, about 9am, Terri eased the RV to a stop in the parking lot of the Mailboxes, Etc. The Malibu Reg had stolen was not in the lot or anywhere that they could see. Karen looked at Frank expectantly, waiting to hear The Plan.

But it was Justin who spoke up first. “Maybe someone could go in and rend a box, do find oud if da gey is da same as Reg’s...and if da numbers on da gey habe any relation do da box number.”

Everyone looked at one another. Well.... It was a pretty good idea. It would at least give them information they didn’t have now. And no one had a better idea.

“I’ll do it,” Karen said. She checked her purse. She had both cash and her credit card, depending on what the place required. That would tell them something, too, if the keys did match and they did require a card. She also made sure she had the fake ID Frank had made awhile back. She sure didn’t want to get the box under her real name, so ‘Susan Jones’ would be renting it.

“Hi! I need to rent a mailbox!” ‘Susan’ told the man behind the counter.

“OK...do you know what size you’ll want?” he asked her. Then he turned away and yawned widely. “Gosh! Excuse me!” he apologized.

“Well...I’m not really sure. I’ll be receiving some large boxes, but...what sizes do you have?”

The guy pulled out a sheet to show Susan. The box sizes were labeled ‘small,’ ‘medium,’ and ‘large.’ “But you don’t need to have a large one just to get large boxes,” the man told her. “If we get something that’s too large for your box, we just slip a note in that you have a package, and we hold it behind the counter for you.” He paused and yawned again.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I’m yawning so much. It’s been pretty busy in here this morning. I would suggest you get the box based on what kind of stuff you’ll usually be receiving and how often you’ll be collecting your mail. If you get mostly regular envelopes or pick up often, a ‘small’ one should be fine. A ‘medium’ one works good if you get larger envelopes, like 9 by 12s or small packages, or if you’re only going to pick up once a month.” He yawned again.

‘Susan’ studied the sheet, and looked at some nearby boxes. “I guess I’ll go with a medium one for now.”

“Great! And if you find that it’s too big or small for your needs, you can always change it later.”

“So, do you need a credit card, or can I pay cash for it and pre-pay for a few months at a time?”

“Either one works. If you pay with cash, we’ll just need a copy of your driver’s license or state ID, and your signature on the ‘signature card.’” He pulled out a couple forms, one for her to fill out and one that he was making notes on.

‘Susan’ filled out the form and handed the man her ID. “So, it seems kind of dead in here right now,” she said as he went back to make a copy of her ID. “It was pretty busy in here earlier, though, huh?”

“Kind of,” he told her, stifling another yawn. “‘Scuse me. Normally I don’t get anyone in here before noon. But you’re my second customer already this morning. About an hour ago, this guy comes in. He had his key, but he couldn’t remember his box number. So I had to look it up for him.”

“That seems kinda weird, that he wouldn’t remember his box number. That must’ve been kind of a pain in the butt.”

“Not really,” he said, handing back her license. “It actually happens a lot. I just had to pull his file.”

“What if he’d lost the key?” The guy was writing information on her signature card while they spoke. So ‘Susan’ leaned forward on the counter, as if she were bored and watching what he was doing, and she looked for any files that might be lying out. She couldn’t be sure that the guy who was there earlier was definitely Reg. But it was a pretty big coincidence.

“Here...I’ll need you to sign right here.” The man put a card on the counter in front of Susan, and pointed at a line with an X beside it. “You’ll have box number 247. And here’s your key. We keep a second one in back, in case you lose it.”

‘Susan’ looked at the card as she signed it. On it were both her box number and the serial number from the key he’d handed her. So that was the way to link the two! She leaned forward again as she handed the card back. Just sticking out the top of the only other file on the counter was a card. The serial number on it was the one from Reg’s key The box number was 333, and the name at the top of the card was Thomas A. Anderson. She couldn’t see the copy of his ID, but that had to be Reg!

“Seems pretty easy,” ‘Susan’ said. “So, I’d like to pay for 6 months up front. How much is that?” The guy went to the register and came up with the amount. As she got out the cash to pay him, she laughed, “It would’ve been funny if, after all that, that guy didn’t have any mail!”

He laughed, too. “Yeah, that would’ve been. But it looked like he got something, a couple packages maybe. If it’d been me, I’d’a been kinda bummed, if I’d come here and not gotten anything.”

“Well, thanks!” ‘Susan’ waved. “I’m just gonna see where my box is....” She disappeared around the corner and found not only the box she’d just rented, but also box #333. It wasn’t too far from her own. That was good, in case they had to get into it using hers as a cover. She waved again as she pushed the door open and left. “Bye!”

In the RV, Frank was just starting to get results on his search for the food service trucks. He turned and looked at Weeping Sparrow, who was huddled against a window that was open a small bit for her to get fresh air. The EMFs from all the electronic ‘toys’ in the RV were giving her a headache. “So, is Reg possessed? Or could he be suffering from something like multiple personalities?” Frank asked her.

“You’re the psychiatrist. I think that you’re probably better equipped to determine that. My poor skills haven’t been much help to me in dealing with him so far.”

Frank was about to turn back to the computer, when Karen burst into the RV, a huge grin on her face. “His name is Thomas A. Anderson, he rented box #333, and he was in about an hour ago. He’d forgotten his box number, and he picked up at least a couple small packages.”

“Terri...are there any traffic cams out there?” Frank hollered toward the front of the RV as he turned back to the computer. He pulled up Google and typed in “Thomas A. Anderson.”

“There’s one up at the corner that might catch the parking lot,” Terri hollered back.

Frank just grunted. He was scrolling through the results of the Google search. Then he let out something halfway between a laugh and a snort. “Right....” He turned to the others, pushing his chair back so they could see the screen. “Meet Neo....” There was text on the screen with a photo of Keanu Reeves. One of the links Frank had gotten was to a Wikipedia entry about the main character of “The Matrix.” Most of the others groaned at the bad joke.

“What? Who?” Karen asked. She looked at the others.

“You know...from ‘Da Madrigs,’” Justin told her. She stared blankly at him, lost completely.

“Neo is a character from a movie. His real name, in the movie, was Thomas A. Anderson,” Frank explained.

“Oh. OK. Never seen it.” It would take two or three lifetimes for Karen to see all the movies other people recommended that she hadn’t seen yet. Movies were never really her thing. She’d seen lots since she and Justin met, since he was really into movies. But it barely scratched the surface.

“Whad? I sthoughd we rended id,” Justin said. “Id’s priddy good. Lods of cool agshun seguences. We’ll....”

“Uh, yeah. The mailbox place has ‘security’ cameras,” Frank interrupted. “But I think we’d be lucky if they’re even saved to a hard drive in the office. They’re probably saved on VHS. And they’re definitely not wireless.” He typed a couple things into the computer. A couple minutes later he was pulling in the video feed from the traffic cameras in the area. He went back 3 hours and started scanning forward, watching the parking lot.

An ‘06 Malibu appeared in the lot at about 7:15am according to the time stamp. A couple shots later, and Reg was standing beside the open car door. The next few shots show him moving from the car to the front door. About 15 minutes later, he reappeared outside the front door with two or three small boxes. In the following sequence of shots, it looked like he opened the boxes, removed several small electronic devices–including what looked like a cell phone and PDA--and chargers for them, maybe turned the phone on, and stuffed the items in his pockets. He got back into the car. And the last few shots showed the Malibu leaving the lot and heading west.

“Can you checg dat cell phone?” Justin asked Frank. “Den maybe we could dracg da GPS.”

“Only if I pull in all the cell traffic from every cell tower in the area for the last few hours, and find the numbers that pop up about the right time, and weed out all the ones that were moving from one tower to another and thus couldn’t be him.... It’d take hours.”

Suddenly, Frank stopped talking and concentrated on the traffic cams. He backed up several times and ran them forward at slower speeds. At some point, the Malibu disappeared from the photos. Frank started working his way backwards through the shots, until he finally found the car again. It appeared that Reg went only a block before turning into the very full parking lot of St. Mary Mercy Hospital. He told the others, and every face in the RV fell. Was he feeding these people? Using the hospital as a ready ‘food’ source? Or both?

The hospital’s campus was on the south side of 5 Mile, between Levan and Newburgh. Frank enlarged the latest shot of the lot and pored over it until he found the Malibu. He went to the hospital’s website and got the visitor’s map of the campus. “There’s a cafeteria in the southwest corner of the main building,” Frank said.

Terri need to wait for ‘orders.’ She put the RV in gear and eased out onto 5 Mile. A couple minutes later and she was maneuvering around the building through the crowded lot, toward the southwest corner of the main building.

“We’re going to have to go inside to get him,” Frank suggested. “Maybe stake out all the exits from the cafeteria.”

“I suppose I oughda sday oud here, or dey’ll dry do corral me and sdicg me in a room,” Justin shrugged. He was disappointed. But with his head all wrapped up, his left eye still itchy, and the last of whatever Weeping Sparrow gave him not completely out of his system, he wasn’t sure he should be out chasing Reg through the hospital.

“Why don’t we see what we’ve got before we decide that,” Frank said. “Karen, why don’t you go in and find him, first.”

Terri had just put the RV in Park, and Weeping Sparrow was already opening the door. She needed to get out and get fresh air, and put her feet down on the bare earth, even if it was little more than a square of frozen ground around one of the poor trees in the center of the parking lot. Evan and Jimmy followed her out.

Karen looked confused. Why would she be any better at finding Reg inside the cafeteria than Frank himself? She pulled on her gloves and stood. Maybe Frank thought she could push him out using a Sphere...or maybe raise a Shield and get him to come out on his own....

“Um, I meant ‘out of body,’” Frank told her.

“OH! I thought....I mean...” She turned a little pink, embarrassed that it hadn’t occurred to her. She looked around for a comfortable spot. The front passenger seat would have been good...she looked at it wistfully... “except, I don’t want people being able to see me....”

She didn’t realize that she’d said that out loud until Frank replied, “Well, we can fix that, thanks to this mechanic I know....” He flipped a switch and the windows, even the windshield, darkened on their own.

“Audo-dind is an amazing ding!” Justin laughed.

Karen looked at the map Frank had showing where the cafeteria was, to get her bearings, then sat back and relaxed. She slipped out of her body before she even realized that she’d formed the thought. The moment she left her body, dozens of people turned to look at her. They were all sizes, shapes and ages. Some were wearing hospital gowns, a few were in scrubs, and there was even one in a doctor’s lab coat. He was carrying a clipboard with a chart on it. He looked at the chart, then looked around, confused...lost. He looked at the chart again, then disappeared through a wall.

Around the corner, two small children, a boy and a girl about 4 or 5 years old, sat on the grass and tossed a large plastic ball back and forth between them.

Karen headed for the brick wall that enclosed the cafeteria, and pushed through it. There were about 30 people sitting around eating. A few were wearing scrubs. Some were standing near what must have been the steam and cooler tables, getting their food. A grey-haired lady sat on a stool by the cash register, looking very bored. The kitchen wasn’t visible from where Karen was; but she could see lots of people in scrubs passing back and forth along the hallway on the other side of a wall of windows.

Karen didn’t see Reg anywhere, and she wondered if she would recognize him. Would he have disguised himself at all? Maybe as a doctor or nurse? She turned to study the people wearing scrubs. That was when an old woman carrying a cane clutched her arm.

“You must help me find my daughter!” she pleaded with Karen. “Please! I’m afraid she’s left me here!” Karen felt her ‘breath’ catch in her chest. This poor old woman had no idea she was dead. And she would never be able to cross over until she did. She had thin, wispy grey hair, and the wide-eyed look of someone suffering from dementia. And though her heart clenched with sadness at the thought, Karen knew she didn’t have the time to help this woman right now. She had to find Reg...so they could save him, and every living person here, from himself.

“I...I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m looking for someone, too.” The tears in the woman’s eyes were mirrored in Karen’s own. She wandered away from Karen, and over to a woman in scrubs. She clutched at the woman’s arm, but her hand went right through it.

Karen headed toward the back of the cafeteria, and spotted a man with a white coat carrying something through a doorway. He set his load on one of the tables, then carried something else back through the doorway. Karen assumed that it must lead back to the kitchen, and she followed him.

In the kitchen, Karen found 3 woman and 2 men. One was the man she followed back, but neither he nor the other man looked like Reg. However, the other one, by the stove, caught her attention. He was sharp-featured, and hollow-eyed, and very, very thin. Not just skinny. A muscular lean, kind of like Reg the last time she saw him. But this guy had an almost rapacious look in his eyes not at all like Reg’s. He was stirring a large pot of soup and looking around the room, not exactly bored but not terribly interested in what he was doing.

As he glanced around, Karen’s eyes met his. He didn’t outwardly react, and Karen wasn’t sure if he actually noticed her or not. He shouldn’t be able to; at least...Reg had never mentioned being able to see disembodied souls like she did. But the momentary connection concerned her. She couldn’t run, because if he did see her but didn’t recognize her, it might tip him off. So Karen looked around aimlessly, approaching a couple of the other kitchen workers, then drifted away as if she were just another lost soul trying to connect with this world. As soon as she was out of the man’s sight, she booked back to her body.

“I think I found him back in the kitchen,” she told the others as soon as she was back. “But from ‘that’ side, he didn’t look much like Reg. He was tall and thin, but the face was wrong. It was...it kind of reminded me of stories I’ve heard of what Weendigo look like when they try to appear human. His features were sharp and hollow-eyed and...hungry. And I’m not sure, but he might have seen me. Our eyes connected for a second, and I tried to act as if I was just another lost soul. He didn’t react at all, so I can’t be sure.... But we may not have much time, and I don’t know if he’ll still be where I saw him when we get inside.”

“Well, I’ll sday oud here,” Justin said.

“So will I,” Terri told Frank. “Because if I see anything, I would have to act in my official capacity. This will keep the ‘cop’ out of it.”

“Bud, aren’d you on bacation?” Justin asked.

“Just because I’m not on duty doesn’t mean I’m not still required to act officially if I see a crime being committed. And I’m afraid that I can’t just shut that part off.”

Jimmy was sitting in the doorway of the RV, his eyes on Weeping Sparrow and one ear listening to what was going on inside. “Ma’am?” he asked Weeping Sparrow, sure that she could hear the discussion perfectly well from where she was sitting.

“I will stay outside,” she told him, “but one of you may go in if you wish.” Jimmy exchanged looks with Evan. No one actually saw the two do ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors;’ but the others could tell that the they were working out some kind of deal.

“I’ll stay out here,” Jimmy finally said.

“OK if I come along inside?” Evan asked Frank, knocking the snow off his boots before climbing back into the RV.

“Sure,” Frank agreed. “So, Leigh...wanna go beat up Reg again?”

“Sure.”

“Right. There’re doors to the outside here and here,” Frank said, pointing to the visitor’s map. “I don’t want to create too much of a scene, so only Leigh, Evan and I will go inside. The rest of you be ready, in case he comes out one of those doors. Terri, keep the engine running, in case we need to get out of here fast.”

The others all nodded and followed Frank out of the RV. While Frank, Leigh and Evan walked around to the front doors, Justin, Karen, Jimmy and Weeping Sparrow took up positions around the southwest corner of the building. They spread out so that each could see at least one other teammate and at least one of the two doors. Weeping Sparrow was farthest north, then Jimmy, Justin at the corner of the building, and Karen around the corner. Then they waited.

Frank led the other two into the cafeteria and straight back to what was obviously the doorway to the kitchen. No one out front said anything as they strode into the kitchen. Neither of the male workers were visible, and two of the female workers just stared at the three. “Hey! I’m sorry, but you can’t...” the third woman started, stepping in front of them.

“We’re looking for Mr. Anderson,” Frank said in his ‘brook no argument’ Fed voice.

“Oh, you mean Tommy? He just went out back for a smoke,” the woman replied, turning to glance over her shoulder at one of the exterior doors. They could hear the door just dropping into place and latching.

She’d barely finished speaking, and Frank was already halfway across the kitchen, the other two on his heels.

Reg poked his head out the back door and looked around cautiously. Then he stepped out...and practically ran into Weeping Sparrow. He backed up a couple steps like he’d bounced off her, and stared in surprise. Weeping Sparrow lifted her arm to point at him...

...but before she could say a word, there was a flash of gleaming metal, and Reg swung at her, and blood sprayed out from her neck.

Jimmy launched himself at Reg, and Reg turned to face him, the wet metal still glistening in his hand.

Justin saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. There was no time for conscious thought. The only way that Jimmy might be spared being stabbed with that knife was....

Justin’s arm was out, the gun steady in his hands, his finger tightening against the trigger....

Karen saw Justin turn and pull his gun, but the corner of the building blocked her line of sight. There was the quiet FWIP of a silenced round being propelled out towards its target....

Frank, Leigh and Evan burst through the door that Reg had come through seconds before, and saw Jimmy crashing down on Reg...blood quickly spreading across Reg’s chest...a scalpel clattering across the pavement...Weeping Sparrow falling, her hands clasped to her throat...Justin, arm up, the muzzle of his gun following Reg down...and Karen just rounding the corner of the building to see what Justin had shot at....