12:01 | Halloween Horror: One Minute to Raise the Dead

0:02 This Halloween, a doorway to the dead will open for exactly one minute. In a hidden laboratory, someone is building a body for whatever comes through, and newly christened field agent Anna Wu is about to find out if she's capable of stopping a resurrection. Trick or treat. There's a chill in the air. Must be fall. Join me for.

0:42 A tale of Halloween. You will experience tales of horror, ghosts, and death. It is not recommended for the weak at heart, but who really listens to warnings anyway? This is Weekly Spooky.

1:32 Hello, my spookies. It's a freaky Friday, and I'm ready to bring you some more spooky in your weekly like we're doing, well, every day of the week, sometimes even two times a day. I'm your host and narrator, Enrique Couto, and I'm here to make sure your Halloween experience keeps going and growing. We have no intention of slowing down, and we're not going anywhere when October's over. Oh, no. We're heading into eight years of Halloween every single week, and we're so happy to have you here. Whether you're working or cleaning or traveling or just trying to relax, you deserve to have the spooky Halloween vibes keep on going.

2:18 So make sure you're subscribed on your favorite podcast app, and if you want to do me a personal favor, leave us a five-star rating on Apple Podcasts and Spotify. That way other spookies like us will know they're in the right place. But now, as for tonight, let's gather around the Optomnal Fire. Because we're watching the clock. Not because the trick-or-treaters are late or the last horror movie is about to start, but because somewhere in a quiet mountain town, somebody has been preparing for one very particular minute.

2:58 Agent Anna Wu normally uses her powers to preserve evidence. A little frost, a little paperwork, and preferably a decent cup of coffee. Then she gets sent to Cloudcroft. There's a butcher shop with a room that shouldn't be there. A missing man who looks younger than he should and a phone call telling her to go home. Anna doesn't go home. Because she's beginning to suspect the killer isn't finished collecting what he needs. And unfortunately, it's not little Fabergé eggs. It's human body parts. So tonight, we're counting down to midnight. And someone else is counting on the dead.

3:47 Get cozy. Here we go. 12.01 by Mike Eshkewi. October 29th, 2020 This should be a pretty boring assignment, all things considered. Special Agent Anna Wu, codenamed Frost for interagency purposes. I work for the Bureau, but not the FBI. The Bureau of Enhanced Affairs, or BEA, often called Worker bees.

4:29 Government-enhanced superheroes, or gifted. The language changes so often, but in the books we're called enhanced assets. I'm not like the troubleshooters who are supernatural and enhanced. I had a friend once, Caroline Quinn. She's half vampire and half enhanced. Haven't heard from her in years, though. Some of the troubleshooters we employ are Weirder, like a golem teenager who I'm sure could stop a tank round with his face. I'm usually an in-office asset, a class C enhanced, a cryokinetic or cryomancer. I make things cold. Nothing flashy. I draw power from moisture in the air and other sources, then super cool it. I'm often called in to preserve crime scenes or evidence so it's fresh for the witches and psychics. I'm more useful than useless. I'm supposed to look into a suspected BAG lab. BAG is biological augmentation gas, or moonshine, that creates unstable abilities in ordinary people. Some create the gas by taking material from other enhanced people, while some bargain with supernatural creatures and some kill and

6:00 harvest organs, blood, and worse. It's a dirty business. Now the drug cartels can have goons with super strength, invisibility, and lord knows what else. We stop the labs when we can, but it gets worse every year. I'm on the road to Cloudcroft, New Mexico. a resort town of fewer than 900 people. Standard operating procedure is to send one enhanced person to investigate, evaluate, and call in backup, if necessary. This time, it's my turn. Sheriff Pauline Miller said to meet her at Big Daddy's Diner to look over the evidence she has so far.' I want to be back in my office in Dallas,' I'm not a level A enhanced like Photon. I can't fire concussive energy blasts or read minds. I make ice. I'm an ice machine who walks. I'm not a field agent, but I guess today I am. It's been a long eight hours.

7:10 I want a good cup of coffee, a club sandwich, and a hot shower. Endless talk radio hasn't really made for good company. Evidently, the Canadians are in talks with a group of Sasquatches for tribal land rights. Good for them. But today, the timing is what bothers me. Halloween is when one of two things happens. It's quiet, and the vampires, werewolves, and other strangeness take a break. Some even work with us rather than against us. Or it's about as close to Armageddon as you can get, and all agencies are on high alert. The incident in Tallahassee with a family of Gorgons, the Pittsburgh hostage crisis with the Revenant and their cult, Gettysburg Ghost Army. This year, intelligence indicates maybe it'll be slow. The Quantico witches can usually see possibilities.

8:12 It's never certain, but it's enough to prepare. So why would someone risk running a bag operation when we're at the highest possible readiness? The BEA dispatched me unusually quickly, too. Normally it's a red tape process. Something does not feel right. I drive into Cloudcroft on Highway 82 after dark. Most of the storefronts are closed. I know it's my imagination, but As soon as I cross into town, it feels like something is watching me from the dark alleys, the places behind the billboards, and every shadow-filled storefront, and there's no shortage. Big Daddy's is mostly dark too, but a police SUV is parked out front. The diner looks like a rustic cabin, the sort of place where your plate is over full and the waitress calls you hunn. Someone in a Stetson sits by the window, drinking coffee. The hat is a pretty big giveaway. The sheriff motions me inside.

9:24 I grab my briefcase, check my Glock 19, and make sure I have the most important thing of all, my Bureau of Enhanced Affairs badge. I open the front door and am hit with the smell of barbecue, Mexican food, and coffee. Agent Wu, I presume? An older woman's voice says in a calm, controlled tone. Yes, Agent Anna Wu, Bureau of Enhanced Affairs. Pleasure to meet you, Sheriff Miller. I kind of stammer that out. I'm still not used to being a field agent. and being so front-facing. I'm not the agent people expect to show up, but I get out enough. Okay, kid. Sit down before you hurt yourself.

10:12 We sit in a wooden booth and a waitress appears with coffee. She and the sheriff clearly know each other. We won't be disturbed here for a while. The kitchen is closed, but I got some leftover ribs and fries. You're both welcome to them, she says. You hungry, kid? If I could get them to go when we're done here, that'd be great. I'm so hungry, and I've had nothing but gas station snacks and drive-thru slop. The sheriff sets a laptop, glossy crime scene photos, and a shoebox of bagged evidence on the table. Well, Agent Wu, before we chow down here, I'm going to ruin your appetite first.

10:58 I've got some particularly gruesome crime scenes and not a lot of answers. She takes a deep sip from her coffee cup and looks up at me intently. And that's where you come in. This is clearly an enhanced incident. And while I don't deal with capes and tights, what I do deal with is people dying in my town. So you tell me exactly, Agent Wu. What is going on? Let's take a look at what you've got and start putting together the pieces. This is where I'm a little more comfortable and in my element. Graduating from ghoul school was tough. I got to the Bureau on my own merits, and today... I get to use those skills. The crime scene photos are worse than I expected. Some bag labs start small and almost clinical. Sample containers, vials of blood, medical freezers, like a little hospital. This is different. A crude operating table, stained with blood, unidentifiable fluids coating instruments like Scalpels, bone saws, and worse, jars filled with some kind of suspension and holding organs like hearts, lungs, and, disgustingly enough, brains. An occult sigil crudely drawn on a wall,

12:30 and the words, I will take back what's mine. The files on Miller's laptop show that the suspended bag lab was fronted by a butcher shop. A paper trail of suspicious medical deliveries are what got it flagged. Thank God for administrative paperwork and a delivery guy checking a suspicious package. Video from a nearby gas station shows a pattern of several vehicles coming and going at unusual hours. One clip shows an elderly man carrying something into the butcher shop at 3 a.m. Fifteen minutes later, he emerges looking about twenty years younger, and empty-handed. Did he use some of the bag material? That's awfully fast for that type of biological reaction, even with enhanced or supernatural assistance. We don't see real magic too often, and this sure as hell seems like it. Well, what do you think, kid? Another long drink of coffee, and another look that makes me feel like I'm staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. Uh, well, can we see the crime scene? And do we have any ideas who that gentleman is? First thing in the morning, my deputies have it locked down until sunrise. As for that gentleman, he's someone who, by all rights, shouldn't be here.

14:06 I take a drink of bitter coffee, bracing for what comes next. That gentleman hasn't been seen here in almost 20 years. Missing persons case. His name is Dr. Wesley Reynolds. He and his fiancée went hiking in the backcountry in the early 2000s. We never found the bodies, but we always suspected foul play or maybe some supernatural critter tore them apart. Miller brings up more crime scene photos on the laptop. More occult sigils. More dead bodies. They all share something in common. Or rather, it's what they don't share.

14:48 Pieces of the bodies are missing. I'd say clinically removed is probably a more accurate term. Missing hands, arms, legs, and several torsos missing various vital organs. Women. All of the murder victims are women. Miller smiles at me as she sees the thoughts racing through my head. I'd almost wonder if she were a telepath, but I know that's decades of learning how to read people at work. The medical examiner's notes are clear. Incisions are clean and deliberate, with minimal incidental damage to surrounding tissue. The heart, liver, kidneys, and portions of the pulmonary tissue are absent. Removal appears systematic rather than traumatic. A small sigil in the background catches my attention. Frankie? The sheriff leans forward, taking off her hat. Excuse me? That sigil in the background. Some necromancers and warlocks use it in a particular ritual. This murderer isn't collecting random body parts. I believe they're building...

16:07 A Frankenstein. We call them Frankies for short. No shit, huh? We agree to meet at the crime scene tomorrow morning at ten. I take copies of Miller's files and head out to my car. In the parking lot, I can't shake that feeling. I'm being watched. I've seen my share of crime scenes. Forensics is brutal, but it's work I know. So keep it cool, keep it clean, and do your job. I check into the Dusty Boots Motel, thinking about the Frankies I've met at the Bureau. Bodies put together and given life via supernatural means or even technological ones, though those are a lot more rare. They're people, or at least people. There's enough of a person in there to feel pity for them. A soul being anchored to a body that it didn't want, yanked out of the afterlife and stuck in rotting flesh. Officially, they're reanimated composite assets, or RCA's. The thing I remember most in this, it's the eyes. I don't know whose eyes they used to be, but I know what I see when I look into them.

17:34 incredible sadness despite what their faces and distorted voices say. When I step into my motel room, it's like I'm in an episode of Little House on the Prairie. It's cute, rustic, and pleasantly warm with its electric fireplace. A handmade welcome basket on the bed has a note. Welcome, Agent Wu. I know drinking all that coffee is going to keep me awake for a while yet, Grab a shower, read my notes, and try to unwind while a serial killer is on the loose. Like an average Thursday. The water is nice and refreshing and really needed at this point.

18:16 One side effect of my powers is that the water never, ever feels hot enough. My boyfriend says that I'm like an AC that's always on low because I'm cool to the touch. I've often theorized that it's my cryo abilities slowly gathering energy from the environment. I towel off and sit on the bed. My room phone rings. Who would call me at 11pm? Who even knows I'm here besides the sheriff and the field office? Hello? I say hesitantly. Go home. My training kicks in. My muscles tense and the room's temperature begins to drop. Just because I can't throw an iceberg at you doesn't mean I can't freeze the blood in your veins where you stand. An icy fog forms around my hands, and ice crystals begin to snap into existence. I grab my handgun from the nightstand and ease the blinds aside. A few pillars of light from the nearby room's and the sound of a distant barking dog. No movement. Silence, except for the blood rushing in my ears from adrenaline. I call the front desk with my gun, trained on the door. Does anyone else know I'm here? I just got a strange phone call. Um,

19:46 no one's called. All calls are routed to the front desk and... it's been quiet since before you got here. Right. Unless it's the BEA or the sheriff herself, I don't wish to be disturbed. After a few tense minutes, I finally start to relax. I'm awake now, though, that's for sure. I settle in the middle of the bed. gun close by and open my laptop. No magic wands or clairvoyance here, just good old-fashioned detective work, attention to detail, and asking the right questions. I send the evidence and my notes to the field office, flagging the sigils and Reynolds' disappearance with his fiancée. Then I microwave the leftovers from Big Daddy's.

20:36 Eating ribs and having a clean keyboard aren't exactly... compatible goals. An interagency alert arrives. Quantico witches are aware of a potential veil breach. Possible timeline, October 31st to November 1st. Alert status, elevated. I don't think I've ever seen a veil breach alert before. The veil is what we call the barrier between our world of the living and the world of the dead. A few of our supernatural friends can perceive it, like vampires, specters, ghosts, and such. But the location is what is really hitting me. It's in Cloudcroft's general area. A breach happens when that barrier breaks down.

21:27 Predicting one is almost impossible. Most are random, localized events over before anyone realizes what happened. We barely covered Halloween breaches at ghoul school. They're rare, but sometimes, depending on when one happens, something impossible can occur. The breach stays open long enough for something to come through, and vice versa. The phenomenon is known as the Midnight Minute. The bag lab, the harvested organs, occult sigils, a veil breach right where all this is happening. Someone isn't building a regular Frankenstein.

22:11 Someone is building a body for something to... inhabit. Now, how does Dr. Reynolds fit into all this? His presence at the crime scene doesn't prove he's behind it. So far, I only have Miller's identification of the man in the video. And someone wants me to go home. My eyes are getting heavy. I won't find anything else fighting exhaustion. The only thing that would make me truly feel safe tonight would be my cat Patty. She passed away when I was a kid. She always protected me and slept with me every night until I was sent to ghoul school for training. I miss that silly little girl. I suppose a 9mm handgun and the ability to freeze things will have to do. Morning seems to come entirely too soon.

23:09 I got enough sleep to feel functional, but this definitely isn't my apartment in Dallas. Today I add my BEA ballistic vest to my professional clothes, attach my badge, and check my weapons. Outside, the October mountain air is cool and fresh, but there isn't much moisture in it. Enough for crime scene preservation and minor effects. If things get serious, I might be asking around for a garden hose. I head out without breakfast. Can a girl get a muffin around here? Cloudcroft is picturesque in the daylight, a nice change of pace from the Dallas Metroplex. Without someone going around harvesting body parts, it might be a good place for a getaway. On Main Street, police vehicles and yellow tape mark the butcher shop. Even the local media has shown up. As I step out of the car, people turn toward me, spotting my BEA vest. An eager young man about my age makes a beeline toward me. Excuse me, agent.

24:21 I'm with Mountain Monthly. What is the Bureau of Enhanced Affairs investigating? I head toward the butcher shop and keep my eyes locked forward. No comment. Is this an enhanced homicide investigation? Is there an enhanced threat to the public? I stop walking. Who told you it was a homicide? I have a source inside the department. Maybe we can talk. He's local. He might know something the police don't. Sure, let me do my work here and I'll come find you in about an hour. Absolutely, and, um, what do I call you, Agent? Woo. Agent Anna Woo. My name's Ashton Jensen. It's a pleasure to meet you. He extends his hand warmly toward me. I grasp it and return a firm handshake. His smile slightly drops when he notices how cold my hand feels. Maybe you should turn the heat up in your car, Agent Wu. Your hands are freezing.

25:28 I chuckle at that. I run a little cold, typically. I'm a wonderful pastry chef, or so I'm told, because of that. Right, well, I'll be at Dave's Cafe when you're all done. A tall deputy stops me at the butcher shop door. You're the cape they sent us, huh? His tone is immediately dismissive, and I can practically feel his eyes behind his mirrored sunglasses. Enhanced people face our share of prejudice, although not nearly as much as our supernatural cousins. Cape isn't exactly the worst thing you can call one of us, but I hate it, especially from another cop. There's more to my resume than my abilities, Deputy.

26:20 Sure am. Miller is expecting me. Would you mind escorting me inside? Yeah, follow me. As I walk through the door, I recognize the smell of death. A butcher shop will naturally have some of that death smell, but there is a distinct difference between animals and people. Instinctively, I lower the temperature by about 10 degrees. Cold slows decomposition and masks some of the smell. The deputy stops applying Vic's VapoRub under his nose and looks at me. That you?

27:08 It doesn't smell as bad now. Yeah, helps preserve the crime scene a little bit and makes it easier to work in. We head toward the freezers. past officers bagging and tagging evidence. This place was a real trip to find, Agent Wu. Someone hid this horror show behind the freezer itself, in an area that isn't even in the original building plans. Passing by huge hanging slabs of meat, we enter the lab. The photos don't exactly do it justice. There are so many more jars of preserved organs and chemicals. At a glance, I can see anticoagulant, formaldehyde, and, most disturbing of all, anesthetic.

27:58 I see some of the material associated with a bag lab, but not everything I'd expect to see in an operation at this scale. Superhuman and supernatural tissue requires... certain equipment and chemicals to keep it viable long enough for it to be transformed into biological augmentation gas. There is maybe half of what I'd expect to see. Some of these people were likely alive when material was harvested. Judging by what's here and the crime scene photos, our culprit has most of what they need for a body. We're running out of time. Miller is standing at the back and, of course, has a cup of coffee in her hand.

28:45 She's talking with an older gentleman wearing protective coveralls and an N95 mask. The walls have markings that were not in the photographs. I recognize warding sigils. They shield the area from enhanced senses and magical surveillance. Our culprit didn't want anyone spying on him. Boys, can you give us the room? Miller asks. The others leave, closing the lab door behind them. Agent Wu, I'm Dr. Jeremy Townsend, Office of the Medical Investigator. We found something else this morning.

29:27 Miller moves to the operating table, which is still covered in gore. I don't see precisely what she does, but I hear a soft mechanical click. and a hidden motive. somewhere engages the table begins to lurch across the floor revealing another hidden area a hiss of compressed gas escapes as the table slides to its final position another more elaborate table rises from the floor our Frankenstein. It's a nude woman who is likely composed of at least four different women. There are more occult sigils painted on the body, which likely aid in preservation. The chest cavity hasn't been sewn shut, and the heart is actually beating. The head has not yet been attached. The device connected to the neck looks part medieval, part High-tech. It's utterly unknown to me.

30:35 I snap a photograph with my phone and immediately send it to the field office in Dallas. I don't know what I'm looking at, but someone will. I get on my knees to examine underneath the table and look for more clues. There are various medical devices and hoses attached to the operating slab. Quite advanced for such a small setup. A pressurized valve catches my eye. Gas release, if I had to guess. We tested it this morning. A mix of bag and anesthetic, Townsend says. Now here's what's really gonna bake your noodles. Dr. Townsend looked down at the body.

31:20 This thing is alive. This thing is alive? Sheriff Miller expresses genuine shock. From a medical standpoint, yes. Clearly not conscious, but medically, it doesn't have a goddamn head, doctor, Miller continues. I suspect the body has abilities, too. I suspect the body has abilities, too. I can't tell you what without a full lab workup, I say. Circulation is good, judging by the monitors. I'd even go so far as to say these numbers shouldn't be possible. Well, that's all I need.

32:01 Any other good news to share, Agent Wu or Dr. Townsend? Yes, Sheriff Miller. We have an advantage. We know our suspect will come back to collect the body. I look down at her. They aren't finished. This isn't just a bag lab. This is a bag-powered operating theater. Okay, so what's the play then? Miller asks curiously. Wait. They'll come back and they don't know how much we've found. I gesture to the markings on the walls. The ward sigils on the walls make this place invisible. Think of it like a Faraday bag. A Faraday what? Dr. Townsend asks. A bag for electronic devices. Nothing in, nothing out. These wards stop anything seeing in or out. We set a trap and pretend we haven't found our friend here. I think they'll return around midnight tomorrow. I have a theory. I explain the idea of the midnight minute and why none of this can be coincidence. Miller doesn't seem 100% convinced, but she is listening. And that makes a difference. What do you need from us locals, then? Secure the scene as normal.

33:26 Put her back under the floor. I still need to confirm our suspect's identity and why he came out looking twenty years younger. If the wards are disturbed, the whole thing goes sideways. Make sure everyone understands that. She tips her cowboy hat toward me. Well, I'll leave you to it then. I'll check in later today, I say. As I leave, one last detail catches my attention. a pair of icy blue eyes suspended in preservation fluid, just hanging there. I swear they were following me, but I think it's my imagination. Everyone outside knows we found something. They mustn't know we found everything. I put my BEA vest in the trunk, keep my duty belt on, and head for Dave's Cafe. Stepping inside yet another tourist-friendly restaurant here in Cloudcroft, I'm relieved that the locals don't pay me much mind.

34:34 Ashton waits near the rear of the bar. I sit down beside him and order a cup of coffee and that muffin I've wanted since I woke up. Okay, you tell me what you know and I'll give you an off-the-record interview. Well, Agent Wu, I can't give up my sources and all my secrets. Keep your sources. I'm asking what you know, not who told you. What can you tell me for my story that'll be exclusive and good for my readers? I'll tell you what I can legally and let you fill in the blanks so no one gets burned. I want you to help me. I take a sip of coffee and a bite of this utterly delightful blueberry muffin. You're investigating a drug lab that isn't a meth lab. The locals call the BEA and you show up. Is there an enhanced threat to the public?

35:32 At this time, I don't believe there is an active enhanced threat to the public. The individual in the video was only shown getting younger. Presumably, they didn't pick up any additional abilities besides reinvigorated youth. Hopefully, I'm right. What can you tell me about the butcher shop? Any local history attached to it? It belonged to a local family until about 15 years ago. They moved to Reno. Nothing else, I ask, deciding there is more to this. The family had a tragedy before the move. The owner's daughter disappeared and the parents couldn't get over it. Staying here was just too painful for them. When did the daughter disappear?

36:19 He checks his phone and looks for something. 2003, October 29th. Her name was Melissa Jones. She was a ski instructor, a good one from what I can tell. Ashton leans in and almost whispers his next question. How many people have died? That name could be significant. I'm not at liberty to discuss that, unfortunately. I gesture with my free hand and quickly hold up four fingers. If someone at the BEA does some digging... I'll likely get in trouble for revealing information. Can I see any of the articles related to the missing woman, Melissa? The reporter shows me his phone. In the center of the page, a smiling, beautiful young woman and a slightly older man, smiling beside her.

37:12 That man is Dr. Wesley Reynolds. With the caption, Dr. Wesley Reynolds and his fiancée, Melissa Jones. Reynolds is constructing a body for Melissa. He wants to bring his fiancée back. The portal opens up and, for exactly one minute, something on the other side can cross over. The few documented cases are inconsistent. Ghosts, lost family, things that probably weren't meant to be understood by ordinary people. Somehow Reynolds has knowledge of not just when, but where. I think about this for a minute and wonder what would happen if I was in his shoes. I've never lost anyone. My mom and dad are alive. My grandparents are also alive and well. I've never lost anyone who is, you know, mine. Family.

38:12 I've seen my share of people pass due to the nature of my work. It's been a remarkable stroke of luck that loss hasn't really touched my life like this. but it'll happen sooner or later. I lost friends at ghoul school, but it's not the same as someone who's family. I can't imagine losing someone like a partner. Melissa's been gone 17 years. That's an awful long time to have a hole in your heart. Christ. I empathize to a point until you start hurting innocent people who also have people to leave behind. Has Reynolds planned this for 17 years?

38:56 More importantly, how did he know exactly when and where? No one should know this, but he does. Agent Wu, are you alright? Yeah. Look, here's my card. I gotta go. Call me in a day or so and I'll help you with your story. I put a $ 10 bill on the counter and smile at him. My treat, okay? I call Miller with what I've found. Her deputies will secure the scene and keep our ruse intact. I'm not a super-powered troubleshooter or a powerful enhanced individual, but I am a competent BEA agent who can get the job done.

39:45 And I can also make ice. Back at Dusty Boots, I'll check with the Bureau about the device attached to our reconstructed body. In daylight, the motel looks downright inviting. A woman from the front desk approaches, positively radiating sunshine. Good morning, Agent Wu. Just wanted to let you know that I personally turned over your room. Oh, and your husband called and left you a message on your in-room answering machine. He sounds like a cutie. Better call him back. Oh, um, sure, thank you. I don't have a husband. At my door, I unsnap my holster's retention strap. I open the door slowly, draw my weapon, and carefully clear the room. Hopefully I don't find a grave-robbing, grieving doctor waiting for me on the bed, or worse. No one. I close the door, lower my gun, and check the answering machine. There's still time.

40:54 Go home. A man's voice. Calm. Deliberate. It's what he doesn't say that bothers me. I'm going to kill you or stay away from the butcher shop. It's a warning. Go home. Don't make yourself a part of this. I hang up the receiver hard. I am not running. You don't get away with murder no matter how justified you feel or how much heartache you've experienced. That stops now. My inbox dings. A message from Paranormal Science in New Orleans, forwarded through Dallas.

41:38 Agent Wu, our preliminary finding is that the device is a form of soul jar, unlike anything currently documented. Its runes suggest preservation and ritual binding, anchoring a soul to a physical vessel. The sigils photographed at the crime scene appear to be grounding sigils, traditionally used to temporarily open or anchor portals to a specific location. Several inscriptions remain unidentified. Several sigils are clearly identified as wards as well, given the predicted veil event in the Cloudcroft area. We recommend treating the device and reconstructed subject as components of an active ritual. Reynolds can open a breach in the lab and capture something as it comes through. He's only missing the head. Does he have Melissa's original head somehow? Oh my god. Please no. I tell Miller everything. October 31st arrives quickly. I spend the day at the station with Miller and her deputies, mapping our approach to the butcher shop and assigning everyone a role. We want a quick and clean takedown. First and foremost, we're law enforcement. No heroics.

43:02 Nothing flashy. I'm the only BEA agent available due to Halloween, so it's me, Miller, and four deputies. We aren't fighting some supernatural terrorist or some undead monster from hell. We're preparing to arrest a grieving doctor who may have some magical abilities. Between tasers, guns, and my own cryokinetics, we should be set. At least, I think we should anyway. 11.53 p.m. rolls around, and we're all in position near the butcher shop. The police tape is largely gone, and all the local police are in hiding or in unmarked vehicles. We have a rancher woman who is a competent shot with a scoped AR-15. She isn't a trained sniper, but she's the best shot in three counties, or so I'm told. One of the deputies is set up on a nearby rooftop with the rifle to act as overwatch. I personally don't want to use that asset if we don't have to.

44:08 This is Sheriff Miller's show. I'm just the guest star. A blue pickup rolls into the parking lot. I'm positioned with Miller and a deputy inside one of the nearby businesses. Reynolds steps out of the truck, reinvigorated. He's holding an organ transplant cooler. I already have a pretty good idea of what's inside that insulated package, and it's the stuff of nightmares. Miller raises her hand, then keys her radio. Hold position until we have a positive ID on the suspect. Gabby on the roof. I have eyes on the suspect, but no clean visual for an ID. Arthur in position two.

44:53 I have a clean visual on a male by the truck. Can you confirm the suspect's identity, Art? A moment passes. It feels like an eternity. The man steps into the streetlamp's glow. Confirmed. We have a confirmed visual on Dr. Wesley Reynolds. Orders? All units, this is Miller. Move in. Gabby, maintain overwatch. Do not engage unless I explicitly give the order. I want him alive. Showtime. Miller, the deputy, and I leave the storefront, drawing our weapons as we approach. Dr. Wesley Reynolds, drop the cooler and put your hands up.

45:36 You're under arrest. Miller barks at him, her own Glock 19 raised while the deputy aims his shotgun. Reynolds keeps walking. I said stop, goddammit. You can still walk away from this. Go home, Sheriff. This doesn't concern you. Take one more fucking step, please. Now drop the cooler, put your hands above your head, and turn around. I warned you. Reynolds sets down the cooler carefully, as if it were made of the most delicate eggshell, and turns to face us.

46:17 Strange occult sigils are painted across his face, arms, and hands. I don't like this. Reynolds faces Miller and her deputy and begins to raise his arms in the air, but just as Miller closes in to make the arrest, it happens. The guns are ripped from their hands and flung an impossible distance into the darkness. Then I don't so much hear it as feel it. Wet snapping of bone and sinew. Miller and the deputy crumple to the ground as their arms and knees are bent at impossible angles. The pair scream in such pain and agony that it's unbearable. I could kill you, but I won't if you leave me alone.

47:04 the sheriff somehow manages to grab her radio and yell into it, Take him down! Take him down! Take him down! A single shot echoes across Cloudcroft, and you can practically hear the shell casing hit the ground below the rooftop. One of the sigils painted on Reynolds' face flares with an impossibly bright red flash. The rifle round doesn't even touch him. Instead, it's absorbed harmlessly and effortlessly. The doctor smiles at me and continues on his way toward the butcher shop door. He's got some kind of protection magic. Our weapons are useless. No, it's worse than that. Our weapons are irrelevant. I don't want to hurt you, but I will. Give me ten minutes and you'll never see us again. I promise. He opens the door. The little bell above it almost seems mockingly inviting. I grab my radio and call into it. Get EMTs down here and look after these two. Everyone else hold position on that door.

48:22 I take a deep breath. I'm going in. The words just fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. I'm outmatched. Potentially outnumbered, I carefully open the door and head inside the empty butcher shop. I holster my gun. It might as well be a paperweight. I start to tense the muscles that activate my cryokinetic abilities. Frost coats my hands, and I can see my own breath in the air. I don't have a lot of moisture to work with, but enough to maybe slow this guy down.

49:03 Might be enough to stop this all from happening. Making my way back into the makeshift bag lab, I can see an eerie orange glow from where we found the operating table. I push my way past the hanging meat slabs again. The door is left open. I can see Reynolds preparing Melissa's body. Agent, you can't stop me. But if you promise to behave yourself, I'll let you witness a miracle. I step into the room and see the sigils glowing orange and red. Melissa's reconstructed body is still missing its head. Her body is also starting to glow with arcane energy. 1158. We were supposed to get married at Christmas, you know. Her dad was going to cater the wedding from here. Life had other plans. But so did I. He looks down at the body. Seventeen years and selling my soul. I'll have Melissa back. 11.59. Dr. Reynolds, you hurt people. You killed people. You don't think Melissa would want this, do you? We won't have to wait long to ask her, will we? He opens the cooler to reveal a desiccated woman's severed head. Melissa's head. He attaches it to the soul jar and connects previously unseen

50:36 wires to the base of the head. The flesh begins to regenerate at an impossible pace. But it is still decayed and rotted. Her blue eyes race around the room as they begin to form in their sockets. A low moan escapes her fetid lips. Wesley. It groans. Midnight. The sigils ignite with a heatless flame and a warm light envelops the table and her body. A door of soft white light appears on a wall, seemingly forming out of nowhere.

51:16 All sound now carries a strangeness to it, an otherworldly ethereal echo. A woman's shape appears in the doorway. The midnight minute is here. I failed. Melissa, it's time to come home, honey. I can feel the joy and sadness in the doctor's voice. The form does not have any identifiable features, just a brilliant white shadow. Wesley? A woman's voice seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Yes, it's me, but you have to hurry. We don't have much time. The white shadow reaches out and touches the reconstructed body, tracing its fingers along the face.

52:11 No. What? I can feel my limbs moving without my consent, reaching for the soul jar attached to Melissa's body. The sprinklers overhead activate and turn the lab into a shower of water and unusual light. Please let me go, Wesley. Wesley. I don't want this. My arms move without conscious thought. Something or someone is guiding my hand. I'm sorry. Using the moisture flooding into the environment, I supercool the soul jar until thermal shock leaves it cold and brittle. I break it. The white shadow moves toward Wesley, and the two embrace. I can't hear what they're saying, but I can feel it. Joy, sadness, regret. A door of red flame appears adjacent to the white one, and an imposing man appears in the frame. Your payment is due, Dr. Reynolds.

53:17 We gave you knowledge, power, and the means to bring back what was lost. Your love rejects you. Now, you are ours. It's a demon. This is way above my pay grade. I start to turn my body and prepare to use my icy powers on Dr. Wesley Reynolds. He's already walking toward the red door, his head hanging in impossible shame. In an instant, he's gone. The red door is gone. The white shadow is gone. The white door remains.

54:00 I don't have anyone waiting on the other side. This moment is wasted on me. The sprinklers turn off and the room is quiet as a tomb. Thirty seconds until the veil closes yet again. I hear a small, unmistakable sound that I haven't heard since I was a child. I feel a gentle rub against my leg. I look down. Patty. Oh my god, Patty. She passed away when I was at ghoul school. I never got to say goodbye. I reach down and pick her up, and my little tabby nuzzles against my face and kisses me like she did when I'd cry or get scared during a thunderstorm. I start crying. and hold her tight. I'm sorry that I never got to say goodbye. I did lose someone important. However, I think it was Patty... who needed to say goodbye to me. Ten seconds. I love you, Patty. Be a good girl, okay? I'll see you again someday. The little tabby kisses my nose one more time. I can feel the sandpaper kiss... And I start to bawl. Patty walks toward the white door. Just before she crosses through, she stops.

55:37 She turns around, looks at me, and gives me one last little... Just like that, she's gone. 1201. Well, I think we all need a moment after that. A very heartfelt thank you to my pal Mike Eschkewy for 1201. Anna went looking for answers and that last minute gave her something else she didn't even know she needed. And thank you for spending part of your Halloween season with me. Make sure you're subscribed because we have something to keep the vibe going every single day of the week and so far beyond it too. So yeah, hit that subscribe button.

56:27 I really do appreciate it. In fact, tomorrow we'll have a Halloween compilation of some of our scariest Halloween set stories. And on Monday, we'll have a brand new monthly spooky for you to enjoy. It's very special. Don't miss it. And I want to say thank you all so much for heading to weeklyspooky.com slash join and supporting us for as little as $ 1 a month. It really does make a huge difference for the show. There are over 90 spookies supporting us And now's a great time for you to join up as well. And speaking of, I want to say an extra special thank you to our Patreon podcast boosters. Those are folks who pay just a little bit more to hear their names at the end of the show. And they are Johnny Nix, Kate and Lulu, Jessica Fuller, Mike Eschewy, Jenny Green, Karen Weemet, Jack Kerr, and Craig Cohen. Thank you all so much. And if you want to hear your name at the end of every episode of Weekly Spooky, just head to weeklyspooky.com slash join and sign up at the $ 15 a month or higher tier. It really makes a difference and means a whole hell of a lot to me. But now it's time for me to get back to work because as October approaches, we'll be publishing more than just once a day.

57:35 We'll have special novellas, extra stories, all kinds of goodies for you to enjoy right here, so make sure you're subscribed. Now it's time for me to get back to it. So many things to record, including a very special Thursday Thrills with brand new horror Halloween releases you will not want to miss. So see you tomorrow. For myself, for my executive producers, Rob Fields and bobbletopia.com, my producer, Dan Wilder, and my creepy composer, Ray Mattis, talk at you tomorrow. Thank you for listening. Make sure to find your way back next week. But for now, you are safe. Trust me.

58:16 Hahahaha!