Skeet and Keel wander around the woods. "We're lost, Keel," says Skeet, but Keel doesn't think so. At least, he pretends he doesn't think so, and insists the path is just over there. "We've passed that tree twice already," complains Skeet. Keel says that the trees seem to be rearranging themselves, but his lame excuses are interrupting by a rumbling noise, and then lights bobbing up and down, and just like the police truck from before, the lights look absolutely nothing like actual headlights, but it turns out that that's what they are, only this time they're on ATVs being driven by some wacky teenagers, who circle around and stop by the SQ guys. "There are your ghost lights," says Skeet, all raining on Keel's parade. The ATV riders take off their helmets. The girl says, pleasantly, "You're not from around here, are you?" and the guy says, a little annoyed, that they almost ran them over, like I guess it's Skeet and Keel's fault that they were almost mowed down by quads being raced around the woods in the middle of the night. Keel does his "we hunt weird things but it's not like The X-Files, honest" routine and Skeet explains that the Jacobsen kids saw something out here the other day. "They saw a ghost," says the guy. The girl says her boyfriend has started to hear creepy things at the Circle Mart, where he works. So she's out quadding with someone other than her boyfriend? In Virginia, doesn't that amount to adultery? Keel asks where the Circle Mart is. "Across the highway," she says, and points. Behind a few trees is said highway, with cars and trucks zipping along merrily. "That wasn't there before," whispers Skeet to Keel, who says, "I know."
If your company's name is Circle Mart, you might have to face up to the possibility that if you put your logo on a 30-foot pole outside your store, it might just look like a giant glowing hemorrhoid pillow. But I don't know how to fix that problem. Skeet and Keel are listening to the clerk, as he unlocks the store, explain that he works the graveyard shift polishing floors by himself. "So at first I was scared of aisle three. But then I became used to it." "What's so special about aisle three?" asks Skeet. The clerk slides him a plastic bucket to sit on. "Just wait," he says.
So we do. An evening of quadding and almost running over city boys has plumb tuckered out Daisy Mae, and she's sleeping on the floor. Skeet and Keel are sitting and waiting, with Skeet complaining that this is even less exciting than ghost lights. On cue, naturally, the voices start. At first it's like a radio station that's not quite tuned all the way, but it becomes sharper and clearer. The two of them stand up, because I guess that makes their ears work better. Keel holds up his tape recorder (which even he can do in a slightly fey manner, since he's holding it only with his thumb and middle finger, and the rest are crooked). There are voices and things clinking and horses clip-clopping. The clerk, who wasn't kidding when he says he's gotten used to it, asks Keel and Skeet if they want to see something cool. He gets on the store's intercom and says "cleanup on aisle three" a couple of times. One of the disembodied voices starts saying, "Show yourself!" Skeet concedes that that was, in fact, cool.