Smith claims that a test subject injected with the formula predicted that April 19, 1993, would be a day of fire. That over 120 people would die in three separate fires—one in Texas, one in South Dakota, and the last in South Korea. She said the fire in South Dakota would be from a plane crash, and she had the sense that it would be similar to Air Force One. Not actually Air Force One, but similar. The Texas fire would be at a church or a school, something involving children. And the one in South Korea might be at a prison. She drew images of shackles and burned bodies strapped to beds.
On April 19, three major incidents occurred that mirrored the woman’s visions. A fiery plane crash in Iowa killed eight people, including South Dakota governor, George Mickelson. The siege at the Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas, resulted in seventy-six fatalities. And that very same day, a fire in a Seoul psychiatric hospital killed thirty-four patients, many of whom were tied to their beds.
There are about ten paragraphs after that, but I skim them because they’re pretty much a rehash of the other article. He discusses the suicides but gives a little more detail. All of the deaths were in the Baltimore or DC areas, except for one—the murder of a middle-aged couple that took place near Fredericksburg in 1999.
“Oh my God . . . that sounds just like . . .”
“Yeah,” Aaron says. “It sounds just like Daniel’s dad.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
We don’t find anything else of value at EyeOnPsyops. The rational side of me thinks that’s because these really are the only truth nuggets in the vast sea of garbage on this site, but there’s still a little bit of Bruno in there asking how I know the alien stuff isn’t true. Maybe I just need something to put it into context so that I can recognize the truth.
That kind of thinking is the downside of spending too much time in my Bruno files.
Aaron and I have expanded our search to a few other sites when I glance up to see Taylor on the stairs. She’s stripped down to a tank top and running shorts. Her hair is damp and her skin glistens with sweat, as though she’s just finished an hour of exercise. The larger of the two sketch pads is tucked under one arm and a Scrabble game is tucked under the other.
“Do not tell me why you’re huddled over those computers. It will just distract me. But here—this was in the attic bedroom.” She hands me the game before she heads into the kitchen.
“There are chips in the pantry,” Aaron says. “Some fruit. Cheese in the fridge.”
Taylor tosses the sketch pad and pencil bag onto the counter and rips open a bag of Doritos. “Somebody has to deliver pizza around here, right?” she says, mouth half full. “It’s the friggin’ beach.”
I glance down at the Scrabble game and then over at Aaron. “Did I say anything to you about a Scrabble game?”
Taylor shakes her head. “Didn’t have to. I heard it floating around in the static when I was trying to focus. I knew what you were looking for was upstairs.” She glances at the laptop on the coffee table. “So, there’s internet?”
“Yeah. Want me to find a pizza place that delivers?” Aaron asks.
“Most definitely, but I could manage that on my phone. You’re going to need the bigger screen to start searching for this.” She flips the sketchbook open.
“You found something about Deo?” I’m off the couch so fast that the Scrabble box tumbles out of my lap.
“Oh . . . no. Not yet.” Her shoulders sag. “I didn’t mean to get your hopes up. I needed to fill in some details on the sketch of the house that I started after our meeting at Sam’s last night. It’s not that I prioritized this over finding Deo. It’s more like . . . this was in my printer queue and I had to get it out before I could start on something new?”
Her voice rises at the end, like what she’s just said isn’t quite accurate, but pretty close. Or maybe because she doesn’t think I’ll believe her. “Molly’s still around, right? Can she check it out and see if I’m on the right track?”
It’s only then that I realize she means it’s a sketch of the house where Molly was held.
“She’s still here,” I say, feeling Molly shrink as far back as possible as I reach for the sketch pad. The drawing is in pencil and it’s not especially detailed. I can make out a large house off to the left, with a smaller house behind it. And I can tell from Molly’s reaction that Taylor’s pretty much nailed it.
I don’t know about the area around it. I never saw any of that. It was night when I went in, night when they took me out, and I wasn’t really thinking straight on the return trip. I . . . kind of freaked out about being dead.
Yeah, I can imagine.