you’d believe it enough to write it down in a report.”
“Try me.”
Using a cell phone and speaking to an annoyed operator had given Cole a small dose of normality. He’d also settled down enough to remember why he’d dialed the number in the first place.
“I need to speak to Paige,” he said.
“Paige who?”
And, with that one simple question, Cole realized an important question he’d forgotten to ask Gerald. “Uhhh, the one in Chicago.”
“Look, I understand you may be a bit confused right now,” the operator said in a surprisingly calm and supportive tone. “If you have someone you need to speak to, I can try to get you in touch with them. We don’t have a Paige who works here, though. You said you had an incident to report. Why don’t you start with that?”
Lowering his voice as if he was afraid a nearby beaver might be eavesdropping, Cole said, “I’m a friend of Gerald’s and he had this phone on him.”
“Gerald, huh? Is this a prank?”
“No. You’ve got to listen.”
The annoyance was back in force within the young man’s tone. When he spoke again, Cole had no trouble picturing one of the skinny little code crunchers from Digital Dreamers rolling his eyes and doodling on whatever paper was in front of him.
“You got some story you want to tell?” the young operator asked. “Then go ahead and tell it. Just make it real funny or real dirty, otherwise I’m sure I’ve heard better from some of the other comedians that call us.”
“There’s a man named Gerald—” Cole started.
“Cool. I’ve never had someone call with a limerick before.”
“Just shut up and let me finish.” Sensing he’d just bought himself no more than a few seconds of the operator’s attention, Cole went for the jugular. “Gerald’s dead.”
Without much of a pause, the operator said, “All right. Have you been seeing this Gerald person or do you just hear his voice? Are you certain the man you’re talking about is Gerald and not some other manifestation?”
Cole stared down at the snow and then at the phone in his hand. Although he wasn’t convinced he was insane just yet, he was getting awfully close. “What in the hell are you talking about? Who are you?”
“This is MEG Branch 40, sir. You dialed us, remember?”
Looking at the same words as they were printed upon Gerald’s card, Cole asked, “Does MEG stand for something?”
“Of course. We’re the Midwestern Ectological Group. Branch 40. Did you need another branch?”
“An ecological group?”
“Is ‘ectological’ even a word?” Cole asked.
“If you want to report a manifestation, get to it. The only reason I haven’t hung up on you is because you’re calling from one of our satellite lines. Come to think of it, whose phone is this? Did Walter put you up to this? Goddamn it, he did, didn’t he? Or did you steal this phone? Oh man, you’d be wise to drop it and run right now.”
Still looking at the card, Cole said, “I have a number to give you.”
“Go ahead.”
He rattled off the digits that were printed on the card beneath the phone number. At first he could hear the operator grumbling something about sending Walter a scathing e-mail. But before Cole was halfway through the numbers, the operator was scrambling frantically enough to knock something over on his end of the connection.
“Holy crap,” he said. “That’s a…you’re…”
Hearing the panic and frustration in his voice did Cole a bit of good. It seemed misery truly did love company. “Do you need me to repeat that number?” he asked.
“Hold on a second.”
A series of clicks was followed by a few short bursts of static. Meanwhile, Cole felt his stomach flop again as he thought he’d been disconnected. When the operator’s voice came back, it wasn’t as clear as it had been before, but there was more than enough intensity in it to make up the difference.
“I’m really sorry about all of that before,” he said. “I had to secure the line. Could you give me that number one more time?”
Cole repeated the digits. This time he even included the dashes that were written between a few of them. When he was done, he could hear the unmistakable clacking of fingers on a keyboard.
“Are you still there?” Cole asked.
“Yeah, yeah. Just looking up your ident code.”
“Ident code?”
“Yeah,” the operator replied. “It’s short for identity code.”
“Clever. Who are you?”
Unlike the last time he’d asked questions, the operator responded as if he actually had some interest in helping, rather than just tolerating him. “We’re the Midwest Ectological Group. We cover reports of paranormal activity throughout the U.S. and Canada. Maybe you heard of us?”
“Nope.”
“We’ve been on television a few times. Well, cable television. Are you one of those…you know?”
Guessing it was easier to lie than try to figure out the proper response, Cole said, “Yeah. I’m one of those,” and hoped for the best.
“Perfect! This is great! I’ve never actually caught one of these calls before. According to this code, this phone belongs to Gerald Keeler? Oh…you said…”
“Yeah. Gerald’s dead.”
The silence on the other end of the connection was almost thick enough to seep through the device in Cole’s hand. The words that broke it were meek and genuinely regretful. “Right. You mentioned that. What about…Brad Books?”
“Brad too,” Cole replied somberly.
“Jeez, I’m really sorry to hear that,” the operator replied.
Despite the awkward situation, Cole was grateful just to hear someone else’s voice. “What’s your name?” he asked.
Judging by the silence on the phone, the operator wasn’t used to hearing that question. “I’m Stu.”
“Hey, Stu. My name’s Cole Warnecki.”
“Oh…uh…you’re not supposed to use last names on these calls.”
“Really? Why?” Cole asked.
“I don’t know. That’s one of the rules you guys use.”
“Fine. Gerald gave me this phone and this number so I could get in touch with a woman named Paige. She’s supposed to be in Chicago.”
There were more clicks and clacks as Stu’s fingers flew over his keyboard. “That would be Paige…well…yeah. I’ve got a Paige listed in Gerald’s file and she’s in Chicago.”
“I need to talk to her. Actually, I need to see her. The only problem is I’m kind of a long ways from an airport or anything.”
“I know. The phone has a GPS in it and I’ve got your rough position on my screen right now.”
“Nice,” Cole said as he closed his eyes and pictured himself as a brightly colored dot on the display screen of the global positioning system that had recently been installed in Jason’s company car. As much as Cole got lost, he still hadn’t gotten high enough on the Digital Dreamers ladder to warrant such a fancy expense. “You guys have any way to get me out of here before I get ripped to pieces?”
“Oh sweet! You mean you’re on site with one of those creatures?”
“Sure. Maybe I can snap a few pictures for you before I get eaten,” Cole growled. “Why don’t you just tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do to get out of here? Gerald was pretty adamant that I don’t wait for the cops.”
