B.F.A backup/cleanup crews arrive in Hopeland, Missouri. It is immediately clear to everyone involved that the shitty gas masks which the agency issues will be necessary, and a massive collective sigh is expressed upon this realization. Agents move in, in groups of three, and begin searching for the previos trio that was sent in to investigate. No sign of them, nor the Merrick family household, can be found whatsoever. The entire town is silent and empty, carpeted with a quarter-inch thick sheet of dead flies. Hopeland and its surrounding area is to be quarantined until further notice, with detours set in place to redirect any would-be passers-through.
The trail of mysterious disappearances that Alan Merrick has been leaving in his wake meakes him very easy to track. He is Southeastbound, and travelling at a pace that will reach Northern Arkansas within a week's time. A weather machine (HAARP specification standard issue governmental use cloud director, not anything special or interesting, really) has been scheduled to spin up some heavy thunderstorms over his potential trajectory in order to hypothetically slow him down and keep civilians indoors and out of the woods.
Hungry. So hungry. The woods are no good for food. Everything here tastes terrible. It makes you sick. You didn't realize you were such a picky eater. You, in fact, were not a picky eater up until roughly eight months ago. Then your obligate biological function of consumption became decidedly and very unfortunately abnormal to an extreme degree. Your friend says that everyone has a friend like him, and that he's only special because you are too. You trust him, he's made of truth. He's realer than real. He says he's always been your friend, since before you were even born. Seems impossible, but many seemingly impossible things have happened in your life recently, mostly for the better, so despite its seeming impossibility you decide it must be true regardless. He tells you that he has a name, and that it's the same name as your name, but he won't tell you what it is. "Alan Merrick?" you ask him, internally. Your voice is very different than you remember it being the last time you spoke. He says "no, that's not our name. Don't be ridiculous." You really don't care at this point. The hungrier you are the more annoying he gets with his stupid cryptic riddles and whatever other utter nonsense he feels like pestering you with. And you're so extremely hungry. There has to be someone out here that you can swallow whole. It's been storming quite horribly, not that it bothers you. The thunder in the sky is the most beautiful sound you've ever heard, you think to yourself, without sharing that though with your friend, because you're a little annoyed with him at the moment, and the lightning is more beautiful than any stupid ugly window you've ever seen.
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