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“That’s some serious bed head, brother,”
said Paul.

“You try sleeping on a love seat, see how
good you look in the morning.” Jacker stood up and stumbled
forward, unbalanced. “I feel like shit.”

“Alma,” said Stephen as he came into the
living room with a stack of papers. “Can you do me a favor and look
over this real quick? It’s the waiver for our show. If everything
looks good, just sign and date the bottom of each page. Cool?”

Paul took the papers because Alma didn’t
want to get up yet. She kept her head pressed into her boyfriend’s
side.

Alma groaned and finally sat up. “Can’t we
take showers before we go? I don’t want to be in a van with a bunch
of stinky guys all day.”

“I already took one and Rachel should be
getting done soon. I’ll kick her out of the bathroom and make her
do her hair in the bedroom. She takes for freaking ever to get
ready.”

“It takes me a while to wash and dry my hair
too.” Alma instinctually reached for her long hair to drape it over
her shoulder, but discovered it was gone. “But I guess not anymore.
I forgot it was gone. God, that’s weird.” She ran her hand through
her newly short hair. “It’s like having a phantom limb or
something.”

Stephen heard a hair dryer turn on in the
bedroom. “Sounds like Rachel’s out of the bathroom.”

“I’ll jump in the shower next,” said Jacker.
“Give you three a chance to go over the papers.”

“It’s pretty basic,” said Stephen. “I added
in a clause about giving you final say on any portion of the show
that features you, or anything about your history with Widowsfield.
I even included the footage from the school in there. I want to
make sure you know that I’m not trying to be deceptive or anything.
It’s all there. Look it over and let me know if you have any
questions.”

Stephen went to the kitchen to make coffee,
but watched Paul and Alma as they read the contract. Alma looked it
over first, and pointed out a few things to Paul who then took the
papers and started reading. The entire show depended on Alma
signing the contract, and Stephen was nervous as he waited to see
if she would sign. His heart was racing, a side effect of the pills
he took every morning to help him get going. When he first started
taking the diet pills, he was just trying to lose a few vanity
pounds, but they’d become an essential part of his routine now.
Coffee hardly had an effect on him, and a few weeks ago he had to
go up to four pills each morning instead of the recommended two,
but he craved the energy they gave him. He’d never been so
productive in his life.

He drummed on the counter as he waited for
the water to boil. “Come on, you fucker,” said Stephen as he stared
at the water in the pot. “Boil, already.”

“Stephen,” said Alma.

He was startled by her voice. He’d fallen
into a bit of a trance as he stared into the pot of water, and
jogged back into the living room to see what Alma needed.
“Yep?”

“I didn’t expect to get paid,” said Alma.
“Rachel already bought me so much stuff. I feel bad taking more
money for doing an internet video.”

Stephen and Paul looked at one another. Paul
hadn’t told Alma about the network deal, which surprised Stephen.
Even though he’d asked him to keep it a secret, he expected him to
tell his girlfriend.

“It’s okay,” said Stephen, and he wondered
if Paul was testing him. Was the biker waiting to see if Stephen
would be honest? He decided not to risk it. “You should know the
truth. We’re hoping that the show goes beyond just being an
internet thing. Do me a favor and keep this part quiet, but we got
approached by a cable network about possibly turning this into an
actual television show.”

Alma looked concerned, which was exactly
what Stephen was afraid of.

“Oh,” she said and looked back down at the
contract. “Wow.”

She was reconsidering; Stephen could see it
in the way she started to study the contract again.

“It’s the same show,” said Stephen.
“Everything’s exactly the same, and we might even just use this as
a test show. It might not even make it on the air.”

Alma set the contract on the coffee
table.

Stephen could feel his show slipping out of
his grasp. Alma was going to refuse to sign. She was going to back
out. “I’ll do whatever you need, Alma. Just tell me what you want
and I’ll do what I can to accommodate you. This story depends on
you being a part of it. I need you, Alma.”

“Can you get me a pen?”

“You’re going to sign?” asked Paul.

“Yes,” said Alma. “I don’t care if it’s on
television. My father wants to close the door on what happened, so
the wider I can open it the better.”

Stephen thought he’d given her a pen before,
and searched through his pockets until he found one. “Here, here,”
he said as he handed it to her.

He watched in anticipation as she signed and
dated the bottom of each page. When she was finished, she gathered
the pages and straightened them by tapping the stack on the coffee
table. Then she offered them up to Stephen, and he tried not to
swipe them greedily away.

“Thank you, Alma,” said Stephen.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “Don’t
forget, you gave me final approval on everything.”

He paused, deflated by the overconfident way
she spoke. “I guess that’s true,” he said and forced a grin.

Jacker got out of the shower and Alma went
in next. Stephen used his French press to make coffee for everyone,
and they discussed some of the details of the trip. Jacker had a
few favorite restaurants that he wanted to stop at on the way, and
Paul said that he’d made a trip out to the Ozarks on his motorcycle
a few times.

“Once you get out of Illinois, it gets a lot
prettier,” said Paul. “The Ozarks are beautiful to drive through,
especially this time of year. I kind of wish I was taking the
bike.”

“Why don’t you?” asked Stephen.

Paul sat back and crossed his legs. “Maybe I
will. I’ll have to see about planning a trip sometime soon.”

“No,” said Stephen, “I mean now. Why not
ride the bike behind us?”

Paul raised his eyebrows and seemed
intrigued. “I guess I didn’t think about it. I’d love to do that.
It’d be a good way to get Alma to ride with me on a long trip too.
She’s okay with short trips, but always says that long road trips
are too much for her. This would be a good chance to get the best
of both worlds.”

“All right then,” said Stephen. “It’s
settled. You can ride your bike while Jacker, Alma, Rachel, and I
take the van. That’ll be perfect.”

“Why do you seem so happy about it?” asked
Paul. “Were you worried I’d be farting the whole trip or
something?”

“I was,” said Jacker.

“No,” said Stephen. “Honestly, I had no clue
how much shit my wife was planning on bringing.” He looked toward
the bedroom where Rachel was still getting ready. “She’s got three
bags full of shit. And I mean, big bags. I was worried we’d all be
sitting on each other’s laps.”

“All you had to do was say something, man,”
said Paul. “No need to try and manipulate the situation to get what
you want.” Paul tapped his finger on the contract on the coffee
table and winked at Stephen. “Know what I mean?”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

On The Road

March 11th, 2012

They left the apartment shortly after ten,
far later than Stephen had planned. Two hours later, when Jacker
was complaining about wanting lunch, Stephen insisted that they
make up for lost time and stay on the road. He paid for fast food,
but Paul couldn’t eat while driving his motorcycle, so they had to
stop for a few minutes. Afterward, Alma decided to ride with Paul
for a few hours.

Illinois seemed endlessly flat, only adorned
with the occasional rise and fall of small hills. It was a
beautiful, sunny day and the bright green glow of spring stretched
across the horizon as far as the eye could see. The road was
smooth, newly paved, and it was an easy ride as opposed to some of
the city streets they usually drove on.

She wrapped her arms around Paul’s waist and
wished she wasn’t wearing a helmet so she could place her cheek
against his back. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t have had the
courage to go on this trip. Having him along gave her the strength
to face…

Widowsfield.

She’d avoided thinking of it the entire trip
so far. Alma felt the familiar pang of fear sting her heart. They
were headed to Widowsfield, and the horrors that she’d been trying
to hide from all these years would suddenly be in front of her
again.

314.

She closed her eyes and shivered, not from
the spring air, but from the fear that welled within her. Alma
thought of her mother, and her obsession with the number that she
believed could lead them back to Ben.

314.

Alma recalled one night when she woke up to
find her mother writing the number on her arm. She tried to pull
away, but her mother held fast and screamed that they had to find
Ben.

“Try to remember,” said her mother as she
dug her nails into her daughter’s arm. “You have to look at the
number. Okay, baby?”

“Stop it.” Alma had been crying as she tried
to get away from her mother.

“No, Alma! Look at the number.” She was
desperate and manic as she forced her daughter to look at the
scrawling.

314 was written on Alma’s forearm in thick
black marker. “I can’t remember anything, Mommy. Please stop.”

“You’re not trying hard enough. Alma,
sweetie, I’m telling you this is going to work. All you have to do
is try.”

“I have tried.”

Her mother slapped her hard across the
cheek. “No you haven’t. You haven’t tried hard enough. You let your
brother die. You and your father did something to him, and now you
won’t tell me. You little bitch. You fucking little bitch.”

Alma writhed free and cowered against the
wall. Her bed was pressed against the corner of the room, and she
was trapped as her mother lurched over the other side of the
mattress. “Mommy, please stop. I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes you did! I know you did. Don’t lie to
me. I know what sort of things your father was doing. I’m not an
idiot. I knew he had a whore up at the cabin, and I know you lied
to me about it. Don’t look at me like that. Stop crying. I know
what sort of things you all did.”

“I didn’t do anything, Mommy.”

“You lying little bitch. Your father turned
you against me. I don’t know how he did it, but he turned you
against me. I loved you and your brother so much. Stop humming! Why
are you humming? Open your eyes and talk to me. Tell me what you
did! I know you’re hiding something from me!”

Alma kept her eyes closed and hummed, like
she always did when the world was too scary to face.

Her arms wrapped a little tighter around
Paul’s waist as she recalled her mother’s insanity. She was humming
as they drove, and hadn’t realized it.

They pulled into Branson a little after
eight, and went straight to the hotel that Stephen had booked. It
was a Holiday Inn on the outskirts of town, but was still
surprisingly busy. Alma had never been to Branson, and was shocked
by how bustling the town was. Rachel was anxious to go shopping,
but no one else wanted to join her. Undeterred, she set off on her
own, saying that she’d meet up with the rest of them in the
morning.

Stephen wanted to get dinner, but Alma and
Paul decided to get room service. Jacker opted to go with Stephen,
and the group broke up as everyone went their separate ways.

When they got to their room, Paul sat down
on the edge of the queen bed and pulled Alma down beside him.
“What’s up, babe?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been quiet – even quieter than
normal. You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired, and a little sore from
the ride.”

“You’re lying,” said Paul.

Alma thought of her mother, and she took her
hand out of Paul’s. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve known you long enough to know when
something’s bugging you. What is it?”

“I guess I’m nervous. That’s all. I haven’t
been back to Widowsfield since just before my mother killed
herself. I swore I’d never come back.”

“You don’t have to. It’s not too late to
turn around and go home.” He almost sounded insistent, as if he
thought this trip was a bad idea.

“Why? Do you think I should?”

He put his hand on her knee and squeezed. “I
think you should do whatever you want to do. Doesn’t matter what
anyone else wants. I think it’s brave to go back there, but I
wouldn’t think you were a coward if you just wanted to go
home.”

“What do you think about Stephen and
Rachel?” she asked.

“I like them,” said Paul confidently. He was
a good judge of character, much better than Alma. “Stephen’s a bit
of a snake, but not in a bad way. I think he’s just spent his life
working in a shitty industry that’s filled with backstabbers. He
picked up some bad habits, but I think he’s a good guy anyhow.
Although I’d put good money on that tape of his, the one that got
famous online, was faked.”

“You really think so?” asked Alma.

Paul nodded. “Definitely. Stephen’s not a
bad guy, but he’s the type that will manipulate others to get what
he wants. I bet he doctored that tape and didn’t tell Rachel.”

“What do you think of her?” asked Alma.

“Rachel is super nice, but she’s got to
learn when to turn off the reporter thing. I like how she’s a
straight to the point, no nonsense kind of girl, but she’s pretty
brash too.”

“I agree,” said Alma. “I didn’t like them
much at first, but now I’m coming around. I’m not like you. I don’t
make friends easily. It takes me a while to get to know someone.
Speaking of which, I like Jacker a lot. He’s just a big teddy
bear.”

“There’s something you should know about
him.”