The Banshee Chapter Page #4

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to journalists anymore.

That's fantastic.

So let's see what

this little guy has to offer.

Patient 11?

Time is 5:
13 P.M.,

administering 200 milligrams of pure

Dimethyltryptamine extracted from...

Nobody said anything

about restraints.

What is this?

Hello, Dr. Kessel?

Just relax, please.

Everything will be fine.

Whose voice is that?

They can see me.

They... They can see me.

In the room now.

I can hear them.

I can hear them.

It's all gone away.

It's all gone away.

You hear them?

It's all gone away.

N1.

N2.

H2.

O7.

C11.

They're here.

They're here.

Aah!

Patient 11, can you hear me?

Patient 11, I need you

to respond to me!

Extracting 325 milligrams of

Dimethyltryptamine from a primary source.

Do you know what's on that tape?

That's not regular Dimethyltryptamine

that the CIA injected people with.

Then what was it?

They were extracting a chemical from

a special source, the human brain.

Medical corpses, the pineal gland.

Come on.

The chemicals foundnaturally

in the brain?

Yes. They're extracting it from dead

bodies, injecting it into live ones.

Lovely.

Anything else good on that tape?

I don't know.

The last 35 minutes

have been erased.

I sent it over to the

guys at video forensics

to see if they can pull

anything out of it.

We get it back next week.

Oh.

In the meantime,

I still got to find a way

to get to Blackburn.

You just know he's connected to it.

He's a writer.

He doesn't have the skills to

synthesize something like that.

It's a CIA chemical, I know,

but maybe Blackburn got

his hands on it somehow.

I mean, think about it.

Both men in western Nevada,

the letter signature.

Blackburn found the chemical

and gave it to James

for his research.

It's possible.

It's probable, and I know what

to do to get to Blackburn.

Great.

What are you gonna do?

Honey, I'm home.

How.

One bourbon, please.

Hey, Thomas.

What's up?

I got arrested this morning.

Same as yesterday, huh?

Yeah, same as yesterday.

I was peeing in my own front yard

in the same spot I been peeing

in for the past 15 years,

and there just happened to be

a sheriff's deputy's

car parked there.

F***in' Nazi cop.

Don't you think it's a man's right

to pee in the f***ing desert?

Thomas?

Thomas Blackburn?

Yes?

I'm the writer who emailed you.

Sarah? Sarah Weiss?

Right!

Right?

Right, yes.

The "print is dead,

down on her luck" story.

Wow.

It's nice to finally

put a face to the name.

Well, it's nice to finally...

Sarah.

Oh, no thanks.

I've got a drink.

That's not for you.

I feel sorry

for you kids, you know that?

With your f***ing computers

and sh*t.

You know what?

You can tell a writer

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