"A prophet is not someone with special visions, just someone blind to most of what others see."

~ Nassim Nicholas Taleb, The Bed of Procrustes

The flesh that meets the metal isn't Zandra's. It's Sunglasses's. The metal isn't from an axe, either.

The release of pressure from her back allows Zandra to free up the contents of her stomach onto the floor by her head. She rolls onto her back to see a face peering down at her. As her eyes adjust, she expects to see Hank. It's not.

It's Emile.

Did Hank find the key and let her out of the freezer?

Zandra props herself up on her elbows. It feels good to give her lower limbs a break as they bleed into a coagulated sheet of red. Emile's drooping arm dangles a cast iron frying pan. Sunglasses huffs into the floor, his hands holding his head, next to Emile's electric scooter. Zandra can see her own confusion reflected in Emile's eyes.

"Did I do that?" Emile says, turning her head to Sunglasses. She talks like she just woke up.

"Who else?" Zandra says and coughs into her sleeve.

Emile sets the pan in her lap and rubs her eyes.

Zandra spots her lawnmower knife laying just within her reach. She wraps her fingers around the paracord handle.

I missed you.

"Where's Hank?" Zandra says as she cuts off the sleeve she doesn't cough into from her purple gown.

"Hank? Oh, yes. Well, I don't know," Emile says.

"Then who let you out of the freezer?" Zandra says as she wraps the wound on her calf with the sleeve. She secures the makeshift bandage with a knot that's not so tight that it cuts off the blood. "Because the freezer, uh, locked itself after you entered that trance when we were both in there."

"I don't know," Emile says, again acting as if she just dropped in from Mars.

Good. No need to explain anything else to her about that.

"What about the screaming? Wasn't that you?" Zandra says and stuffs the lawnmower knife back in its sheath.

"If I did, I don't remember."

"Then what was the last thing you remember from being in there?" Zandra says and tries to stand. It's hard to balance both legs without one screaming in pain at the expense of the other. She finds the battle axe makes for a suitable crutch, with the weight of the head pointed down.

"I was in there with you, trying to enter a trance. The Spirit Box was loud, very loud. Then it switched off. I opened my eyes, and you were gone. Then I read a note in my pocket," Emile says.

That would've been from me, to give you something to do to pass the time and not freak out. From one bullshitter to another.

"A note?" Zandra says and tests walking with the axe. She doesn't crumple after a few steps. It'll do.

"It says to concentrate and ask the spirits for help," Emile says. She holds the note out for Zandra to see. "So I did, and a few minutes later, the freezer door opened. Now I'm here."

That's not possible. It must've been Hank.

Zandra lights a cigarette and starts down the hallway, away from Sunglasses, supposing he isn't going anywhere any time soon. Emile follows next to her.

"Wait a second. You mean to tell me you think you were in the freezer for, what, 30 minutes at most?" Zandra says.

"No, not at all. It must've been 15," Emile says.

Never buy your own bullshit. You're in it too deep. People slip into a meditative state and lose track of time. That's all there is to it. Nothing supernatural.

"Let's find Hank," Zandra says.

"Where's everyone else? And did I just commit a crime back there?" Emile says.

"Probably. The good thing about doing it in a place like this is that the police won't be involved. The minders of the Carey estate will deal with our friend back there in their own way. His name is on the reservation and the damage deposit, which means he just pushed out selling this place. He's absolutely fucked," Zandra says.

"Oh. I see," Emile says.

Zandra stops walking. It takes a moment for Emile to realize this, and she reverses the electric scooter.

"Hey, Emile," Zandra says.

"Yes?"

"Rip up that check you wrote out to me."

A few twists and turns later, Zandra and Emile find Hank. He made it as far as the banquet hall, where he hides in a ball beneath the long table. Handcuffs continue to keep his hands behind his back, and duct tape remains over his mouth.

I left the freezer key in the frame above the door. There's no way Hank could've grabbed it at that angle wearing those handcuffs.

The weight of the axe head is enough to split the chain connecting the handcuffs. His hands free, Hank strips the duct tape away.

"Did you kill him?" is the first thing Hank says. He sniffles like he's been crying ever since running out of the lounge.

"We'll see. Emile is pretty good with a frying pan," Zandra says, taking care not to plant her bare feet in stale vomit. She glances at a clock on the wall.

It'll be dawn in a few hours.

"It smells so bad in here. Is that coming from the food?" Emile says.

"No, so help yourself if you see anything that looks good," Zandra says.

Emile finds a pitcher of water and a glass instead.

She's awfully thirsty for only spending "15 minutes" in that freezer. Was there a trap door in there? Is this one of her acts? Maybe she played me this whole time. Wouldn't put it past her.

"So is this over? I can go home now?" Hank says. "The hotel, I mean. I've got more meetings for my job and everything."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Get out of here. There's no buried treasure, no matter what anyone says," Zandra says. "But first, I need a favor."

"A favor?"

"It's easy, sort of. Help Melvin, Carter, and Emile get home. Everyone needs to be gone in the next hour or so. Stick around any longer than that, and I'll ask you to help clean up," Zandra says.

Hank sighs. "I guess so."

It takes a half-pack of cigarettes burning between Zandra's lips while she watches for Hank to get the three others into vehicles and shuttled home. That leaves Zandra alone with Sunglasses in Carey Manor as dawn arrives.

She checks in on Sunglasses. He dragged his way to a sofa stuffed into a random corner of the house. His head rests on a pillow as he sleeps. Zandra can tell he's in a deep sleep, so she pulls the pillow out from beneath his head.

Asshole.

Zandra makes her way back to the kitchen, but she stops after entering only a few steps inside. The freezer door waits for her to inspect the frame for the key. She coughs into her sleeve.

I don't want to know.

She returns to the lounge and switches on a television. An infomercial for a psychic hotline plays on the first channel that pops up. Zandra can't help but chuckle, and she debates whether it's worth it to use one of the many phones in the lounge to dial in.

"That's a hell of a coincidence, isn't it?" Zandra says to the television, or perhaps to something else. "You're all very clever. Very smart. Now go away, whatever you are. I've got business not even you know about. Probably."

A nagging feeling urges her to head to the spirit board. She uses a remote control to change the channel instead.

That's when the doorbell rings.

Right on time.