“Susank? What the ffffffuuuuuuck? Why?”

It was possible I had sent Patton’s brain into a flat spin, which is fair because no one would ever willingly go to Susank for any reason. “Patton, you’re right, but listen: you know my uh...” I tapped my head, “my thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I met this trucker on the internet, and he–”

“You,” – and Patton did finger air quotes here – “met this trucker on the internet?”

“Fair,” I said. “But look: it was on one of the abnormal psychology forums. Déjà Who. He described the exact same thing I got. He’s dog shows and like, burlesque and geology though.”

“Burlesque. Mrow.” He feathered his fingers in a mock cat-claw.

“I’m telling you, he described it perfectly.”

“Ben? Newsflash: those are just words. Anyone could make something up like that for some reason. Troll you. Get close to you. Eat your face.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t like this guy approached me. He put it out there publicly. I approached him.”

“Probably exactly like he planned it. You’re gonna get Chainsaw Massacre’d.” He mimed a big Leatherface chainsaw sweep, complete with sound effects. “Nice knowing you. Thanks for the necklace.”

“Can you just listen for a second?”

“If you’re going to become a skinsuit, I hope you’re his size at least.”

“Patton: he knows about the Chime. He brought it up.” Patton was the only other person who I’d ever told about it.

“Whoa.”

“Yeah. So, he’s being just as secretive about it as I have during my entire life. He’ll only discuss it in person.”

“In Susank.”

“Yeah, it is a bit… middle of nowhere.”

“It’s a bit Children of the fuckin’ Corn, Ben,” said Patton. Then, leaning in, “What time do we leave?”

I walked around the counter and took him by the shoulders. “You’re my oldest–”

“Only.”

“Only friend.” I cracked up. He’d always had a bead on my funny bone. It also happened to be true. “I have to do this alone – he wants to do it alone. That’s the whole point. I can’t show up with a sidekick.”

“Demoted from only-friend to sidekick. Wow.”

“Come on. You of all people should understand. You’re the only one who understands.”

Patton fiddled with the ersatz shark-tooth and scratched his patchy stubble. Then he took me by the shoulders, and in a shockingly serious – and sober – voice, said, “You’re not going alone to meet a forum-posting trucker sociopath at the grain silo in Susank. End of debate. I’ll hide in the car. This is nonnegotiable.”

He was unflinchingly loyal. I couldn’t say no to the guy. “Fine. But you actually do have to hide yourself.”

He pulled the shark’s tooth up and kissed it. “Awesome. You buy the snacks.”

“Sure.”

“What weapons are you bringing?”

“Weapons?”

“Nunchaku or throwing stars?” he asked, wielding a pair of phantom chuka.

“Yeah, no,” I said. “Look, I’ll put the rods in the car and we can throw some loops when the sun comes up. Make a whole thing of it.”