THE NOTE

I am freaking out. Yes, it's Thanksgiving, but we don't celebrate holidays at the WME - we're lucky if we get a weekend off. They don't like us to be out in the world for prolonged periods of time.

I had taken the note that AnnaCorvo and Sam had found and shoved it in my pocket, not daring to open it up in the restaurant. When I got home I opened it up and tried to read it, but it had been so badly crumpled up it was almost impossible. Plus, it had dirt on it, like it had been buried. All I could make out were the words "CDC controlled chicken farms", "meeting scheduled," "poultry imported", and a list of grocery stores - Kroger, Costco, Wal-Mart Super Store, Jon's.....

I am posting it as I first received it from AnnaCorvo. You, fellow American, can click on it and it may come up larger on your computer. I feel that every handling of it should be photo-documented for clues, especially now. Perhaps you will find something I have missed. So far, I believe it has something to do with the infected chickens, but I am having trouble concentrating.

See, the note is a mystery, but the bigger, horrifying mystery is.....AnnaCorvo and Sam have not been at work since that night. I went to work the very next day wanting to ask them how and where they found it, I had a plan all set up so that we could talk freely for about five minutes, and they were not there. Not that day, not the next day, not the next.

Jordan has been doing everything he can to contact them - walkie talkies, the throwaway cell phones, everything. He left the coded message "Let's not forget Margo's precious lost earring (lost? - Little Miss Evil swiped it!).

("Phoebe" pg.122, verse 292-293) - this is the code phrase for "where are you? Worried sick that the soul snatching WME has done something to you! Please call back ASAP!".
We have all dreaded the day we have to use that code, and Jordan has left it every single day. Nothing.

Now we have a note possibly indicating that flu infected chickens are being shipped to lower income markets, AND our two comrades have vanished.

Jordan is ready to do the most risky thing a person working here can do.

He is going to ask someone.

I have been pleading with him not to, but he is getting adamant.

"Peter, it will look suspicious if we don't," he said, stapling papers with unnatural force.

"It will be suicide if we do," I answered under my breath, what little I have left. I swear, I am holding my breath all the time these days.

He was silent, staring at the stack of papers in front of him.

"The Basement," he said, not looking up. "We have to get down to the Basement."

I shut my eyes.

I didn't expect it to end this way.

"Don't worry," Jordan said, reading my mind. "We're not done in yet."

I wish I had his confidence.

"Okay," I whispered, resigned. "When?"

"Soon. Just act normal."

How can I act normal? Normal was no longer part of my life the day I started working here.

"Okay." I repeated.

Americans, please. I may not be back, so this holiday season, please choose ham as your main dish.