The police van sped away, heading off toward property owned by a friend of Dolores and which lay nestled deep in the woods bordering the national forest. Few people ever visited this location; only the occasional hunter passed through.

In the van with Ronnie were Dolores, the 2 officers, one of whom drove, as well as a yet unseen doctor accompanying their ill passenger. Most of the rear section of the van remained invisible to someone setting by either door of the second row of seating, blocked by short intruding walls behind the seats. Ronnie occupied the right window seat in this row.

A hundred questions swirled through her mind, all jumbled up into a question-ball that reshaped and reshuffled with every new question. As a result, her mind was unable to fashion any question vocally in that moment.

Dolores and the officers were busy concentrating on their escape route out of town, trying to avoid a route that would cross paths with the ‘two black Suburbans’ reported by the chief to be entering their town.

‘Black Suburbans?’ Ronnie pondered the significance of this statement. Why would people know the meaning of this… warning? Her mind raced off, suddenly thinking on the countless movies where secret government officials inevitably drove black Suburbans. “Surely this is a stereotype, right?” her mind immediately evaluated and formed judgement on this new information. Her stomach sank with the suspicion there was more than stereotype in this particular instance.

The vehicle radio chose to speak in that moment, once again pulling Ronnie out of the first extended thought since this madness began 15 minutes before. The chief was on, casually stating a need to take the afternoon off and go fishing. “Huh?” Ronnie thought, as her annoyance and fear grew. “Fifteen minutes ago he near screamed for the officers to get away from the hospital, and now he is going fishing?”

Dolores chose that moment to turn and face back toward Ronnie, her face a mirror of how Ronnie felt inside. Ronnie sensed Dolores was troubled and struggling to find the right words, searching the words out in the way Ronnie searched for answers. Ronnie could stand it no longer. “Will someone please tell me what is happening here?”

Dolores sighed and then spoke. “I cannot share such information yet, Ronnie. You are going to have to leave once everyone is safe at our destination. You need to leave to get back to your children, and you will need to take your children into hiding as well. We… will help you with this.”

“Why in hell do I need to hide my children? What the fuck is happening here? Are the lot of you daft? I’m going to climb out back and see my husband!” Ronnie was approaching her breaking point, beyond which she would not cooperate. While the urge to climb over the seat was strong, she remained unmoving.

“I can only tell you that… Tim… is a person of interest to those well beyond our lives, Ronnie. Well beyond our lives and well up the power pyramid in this nation, perhaps well beyond. Yesterday, something happened in my office. I assume you were there earlier today. If so, you saw the broken window, the overturned chair and table, as well as the broken lamp. Others rushed in when these things happened, and they saw… they witnessed almost everything. When people see, they talk – before they realise the consequences of their talking. It did not take long for this talk to disseminate to… parties with a strong interest, and sure enough, some are apparently here to snoop around.

When they do start snooping, it is just a matter of time before they start smelling substance. The substance found will lead them to expand their search, looking for your family, my family, and anyone else they associate with possible interest and involvement and which might lead them to what they wish to find.

They will likely call more resources into play. We cannot allow them to get their hands on your children, because like… Tim… your children will be of intense interest to these people, probably of equal interest.

Ronnie, you have to trust me on this!” Dolores was asking the impossible of Ronnie.

“Dolores, you mention substance, you mention interest in our daughters, yet you refuse to tell me why. Why in bloody hell would they come after our children?” Ronnie grew increasingly pissed as she talked, the involvement of her children pushing her in that direction. “They have no psychological issues. They have done nothing. You expect me to believe this cockamamie story, something no one else would believe, on your say so. That… is ridiculous!”

Ronnie realised she was giving way to anger, took a deep breath to reset, and then continued. “You need to trust me if you wish me to be on board with the urgency and necessity of what you are doing. Right now, I half believe you are a bunch of lunatics gone off the deep end, but then I see two police officers in this vehicle, supposedly there is a doctor in the back… but the police chief just said he is going fishing. You act as if the world is ending; moments ago, he acted as if the world was ending, yet now he is going fishing. Would this make one shred of sense to you, if you were I? Ronnie rested there, knowing her question would be hard to answer.

“To be honest, Ronnie, if we switched roles, I’d be saying what you just said. I would probably believe not a word of it, and the only reason I do now is due to being a first hand witness to the triggering event. The police chief is going fishing as a cover, to show nothing is untoward and amiss in the town – we pre-planned this action earlier today, contingent upon an imminent threat.

Tim is in danger, Ronnie. Your girls are in danger. You are in danger, because you are the key to finding all three. Once we reach our destination, we will have one of officers take you to my car – you cannot drive your car now, they will look for it, but it will be a couple of days before they start looking for mine. You will need to get your mom to meet you some place she will know by something other than its actual name, in case they are listening.

Once you have your children with you, we need to come up with a place that is safe for you to go to and stay for an extended time. It cannot be any place connected to your family; eventually they will follow those trails.

I know so little at this point, just that I saw what happened – and by the way, three video cameras from three different directions and perspectives captured what happened. The producer and his two staffers are already in hiding at our destination. Those tapes will be second only to your family in desirability to those after us.” Dolores was feeling ill in trying to argue the inarguable.

“So something happened to Tim then?” Ronnie asked, her voice carrying a more resigned feel.

“Yes, Ronnie, but Tim is not in danger of dying,” proved to be the only response Dolores was capable of giving in the moment.

Ronnie changed the subject, trying another approach. “Dolores, are you aware of the strange sounds Tim has made during his nightmares?”

“What do you mean?” Dolores pulled a puzzled face, looking to get more information, rather than share more information.

“The same words keep repeating… well, I think of them as words, because they sound the same.” Ronnie volunteered some of what she knew in hopes Dolores would reciprocate.

“Do you recall the sounds now?” Dolores urged Ronnie to continue.

“Yes.” Ronnie answered. At least she was talking on a subject she had limited knowledge of, instead of being completely ignorant.

“It sounds like ‘ooch na jar of hay!” except he screams it with what seems to be great angst or horror. I have listened to the tape repeatedly, and the ‘jar of hay,’ or perhaps ’jar a hay’ is somewhat clear. The ‘ooch na’ part is said funny, sort of with a tongue clicking action I cannot replicate, and the whole thing is as if Tim is receiving someone else’s thoughts and experiences. I have never believed in the supernatural – I’m an atheist – but believe me this makes me wonder.”

Dolores felt her back turn to ice at hearing what Ronnie shared; icy tentacles shot out towards and through the rest of her body. There were two triggering nuggets in Ronnie’s statement: the simple word tape and the more difficult ooch na jar a hay.

‘Deflect on one hand,’ Dolores thought out her immediate course of action, ‘while acting on the other.’

“Ronnie, where is this tape?” she reasonably asked, her insides roiling while she masked her words in calm.

“It is on my kitchen table in the portable tape player. Why?”

“We will leave immediately for the southern part of the states once we drop off the others. When we arrive at this first stop, you are not to leave this van, do you understand? You will wait for me to climb back in, and then we are going to get my car, take it southward, meet your mom, get that tape – your mom should make certain to bring the tape with her, that tape is yet another key – and get all of you to safety. That will include your mom. Understood?” Dolores had no time for pleading – it was time to act, before her car became of interest. The lives of too many were in her trembling hands.

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