The car hummed steadily as it sped along the highway, the early November landscape of the Appalachians rolling by in muted shades of brown and gold. Trench, having just finished his training weeks earlier, sat in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed out the window, though his thoughts were far from the scenery. In the back seat, Prim Lewis shifted restlessly, her knee bouncing in time with the occasional thrum of the tires over uneven pavement. Agent Roland, their senior and the one driving, was in the middle of a debriefing that made the long drive feel heavier with each passing mile.
"The local sheriff's department reached out to us last week," Roland said, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of grimness. "They initially thought it was just a case for the state police—a string of missing children, tragic but mundane. Then they found the bodies."
Trench glanced at Roland, whose eyes remained on the road. "And that's when the Bureau got involved?"
Roland nodded. "Four kids, dismembered, and hung from a tree at the edge of an abandoned quarry. The limbs were placed beneath the tree, almost... arranged. Like some kind of ritual or message."
Lewis leaned forward from the back seat, her brow furrowed. "Any signs of a pattern? Symbols? Anything like that?"
"Nothing concrete," Roland replied. "At least not from what the sheriff's initial reports said. But here's the kicker: one boy's body is still missing. Eddie Painter, twelve years old. He was familiar with the other victims but hasn't turned up yet—dead or alive. And here's the part that brought it to our doorstep: locals reported all the kids in town have been acting strangely. The sheriff's office didn't say much about that in the report, but is stumped, which is why we're here."
The car fell into silence for a moment, save for the steady hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of the police radio mounted on the dashboard. Trench let the details sink in, trying to ignore the knot forming in his stomach. After seeing one himself, which led Roland to recruit him, he'd read the Bureau's files on Altered World Events during training, but going to the site of another one with almost no detail was something else entirely.
"What do we know about the kids?" Lewis asked, breaking the silence.
"The victims are Carl Cutter, thirteen; Jacob Booth, eleven; Gene Hazel, fourteen; and Sadie Williams, also fourteen," Roland said, his voice steady but grim. "All local kids. The only missing child is Eddie Painter, twelve. There's no immediate connection between the kids except that they went to the same school or were in overlapping social circles. Most of them were classmates or had siblings who were."
"Any suspects?" Trench asked.
"Nothing solid. The sheriff's office has been stretched thin trying to keep the town from descending into panic. Small-town dynamics don't help, either. Everyone knows everyone, and everyone has an opinion. We'll have to tread carefully."
"What about the families?" Lewis asked. "Anyone behaving... off?"
Roland sighed. "Frances Booth, Jacob's mother, is a local middle school teacher. She's been advocating for increased patrols and community meetings. Gene Hazel's younger brother, Tim, is reportedly terrified and hasn't been speaking much since the bodies were found. Daphne Bell, Sadie's cousin, has been acting out in school—fighting with classmates, snapping at teachers. The Painters, well... they're just trying to hold onto hope that Eddie's still alive. Especially after the husband walked out on them last year."
Trench's mind churned, piecing together the fragments. "And the sheriff hasn't mentioned anything about cult activity or anything else unusual?"
"Not yet," Roland said. "But that doesn't mean it's not a possibility. That's why we're here. To dig deeper, find what the locals can't, and determine if this is just a horrible crime or something paranatural."
The car crested a hill, and the town of Iron Hill, Ohio, came into view below them. It was a small, quiet place nestled along the banks of the Ohio River, its streets lined with modest houses and storefronts that spoke to a once-thriving community now struggling to find its footing. The old iron quarry loomed in the distance, a scar on the landscape that seemed to cast a shadow over the town.
"Welcome to Iron Hill," Roland said as they began their descent. "Let's hope it's just as quiet as it looks."
Trench glanced at the quarry, its jagged cliffs stark against the overcast sky. He had a feeling this assignment was going to be anything but quiet.