[MUSIC PLAYING] This episode is brought to you by Experian. Are you paying for subscriptions you don't use, but can't find the time or energy to cancel them? Experian could cancel unwanted subscriptions for you, saving you an average of $270 per year, and plenty of time. Download the Experian app. Results will vary. Not all subscriptions are eligible. Savings are not guaranteed. Paid membership with connected payment account required. You are listening to the new mutual audio network. Welcome home. The following audio drama is rated PG-13, suggesting that all children under the age of 13 should listen accompanied with an adult. [MUSIC PLAYING] Good morning and welcome all you fans of "Nads' Room" and the month of February. I'm Jack Ward, this is the Sonic Society, the world's greatest showcase of modern audio drama, and I'm here as the shadow to my groundhog, David Alt. Thank you, good morning, everyone. But Jack, I thought you were the groundhog, and-- Well, that's true. That's the day I decided to poke my head into the world and decide we'd have at least six more decades of existence. Now, come on, Jack, we both know that you're not that old yet. No, that's true. Thank goodness, because after the six decades, I don't know what's going to happen. I still don't think that's how it works, though, really. Well, maybe not, but I do know how it works here is we get to listen to great audio drama. And today is no exception as we go back to listen to the very first episodes of "Limetown," with what we know and Winona. And if you haven't heard the series yet or seen it on Facebook video, here's your chance to get hooked as it all begins right here on the Sonic Society. Reports of violence erupted today in the research facility known as "Limetown," located in White County, Tennessee, and the home to over 300 residents. Emergency services have gathered to the isolated location at smoke rises from somewhere on the property. The first time most people heard about "Limetown" was on the night of February 8, 2004. 911, what is your emergency? Hello. Hello. Hello. Are you there? Hello. Can you hear me? Yes, ma'am. I'm just going to make sure of your emergency services in White County, I'm happy I let them off. I am in police, I'm just in the whole [BLEEP] lobby, man. Man, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down. Calm down, calm down, man. Are you still there? 17 minutes later, the first responders arrived to the outside gate. Followed shortly thereafter by local news station WVPK, where they uncovered the troubling reality. No one was allowed access into "Limetown." Samantha, can you tell us what's going on? Thanks, Ron. We're standing at the outer security gates of "Limetown." And as you can see, there is a large gathering of police officers and firefighters here. But they are not being allowed into the facility. Not being allowed. What do you mean they're not being allowed? Who's not allowing them, Samantha? Well, we can't get anyone to speak to us right now, but we can see that there is a sizable security presence on the other side of the fence. And there seems to be an ongoing conversation. Can someone tell us what's happening? There are two people there. Sorry, we're being told to clear the area now. There seems to be a lot of confusion. The reason or reasons for their denied access remains a point of contention. The next morning, there was no visible activity within the community. There is no one on the grounds that I can see, but there does appear to be a large smoldering bonfire. I would guess there's one large stake in the ground. Hard to make out from here what I'm looking at. For the next two days, "Limetown" was dormant. All attempts at contact failed. And on the morning of February 11th, the security team left their post. Police officers on the scene were prevented, presumably by their superiors, from stopping the security team for questioning. The security at the front gate is now driving away from the facility. Sir, can someone tell me what's happening? The gate to "Limetown" was left open. What the world discovered was the complete disappearance of every man, woman, and child in "Limetown," 327 people. Officer, what can you tell us about the investigation? Where is everyone? Let me ask you again. What is here? Nobody's here. What do you mean by that? Everybody's just coming. The story exploded, gaining international attention. Our top story from the United States this evening. Go. [SPEAKING SPANISH] [SPEAKING SPANISH] You've just been listening to an indecipherable line on one corner of the smoke, right? [SPEAKING SPANISH] [SPEAKING SPANISH] [SPEAKING SPANISH] [SPEAKING SPANISH] They need to check those caves. They have checked the caves OK enough with me. [SPEAKING SPANISH] [SPEAKING SPANISH] And then, just as suddenly as the story of "Limetown" landed, it evaporated back into the 24-hour news cycle, swallowed by the first legal same-sex marriage in San Francisco, the announcement of successful human cloning in South Korea, war in Iraq, or in Afghanistan, marriages, scandals, weather drugs. The story of "Limetown" became a tragedy, among countless other tragedies. A ghost story you can barely remember. [MUSIC PLAYING] My name is Leah Haddock, and I am an investigative reporter with APR. I was 17 years old as the events of "Limetown" unfolded, and I became somewhat of a "Limetown" news junkie. In the spirit of full disclosure, it is also a personal story to me. As an uncle on my father's side, granted, one I only ever heard stories about and never met beyond infancy, Dr. Emil Haddock, is counted as one of the missing. All things considered, it's fair to say that "Limetown" and the questions it left in my family played a large part in why I became a reporter in the first place. The infamous photo of the devastated father collapsed to his knees outside the gates of "Limetown," his hands pulling his hair and outrage and confusion, hangs on the wall above my desk. It seems I was always supposed to tell the story. So, without any further delay, the following report is the first of seven. That's right, seven-part series on "Limetown," starting with everything we know up to this point, then quickly moving to the people it most affected, and what it means to them today. Our aim, simply, to remember, to honor, and to attempt to give a voice to the missing through the ones who love them most, and who cannot, who will not forget them. Please, stay tuned. ♪♪ Support for "Limetown" comes from BetterHelp, the online counseling service that's there for you. If you need help with depression, anxiety, stress, relationships, trauma, or even sleeping, BetterHelp can connect you with a licensed professional therapist who can speak with you in a safe and private online environment. BetterHelp lets you do it on your own time at your own pace. You can schedule secure video or phone sessions, plus chat and text with your therapist, whenever it's convenient for you. In fact, so many people have been using BetterHelp that they are recruiting additional counselors in all 50 states. It's all completely confidential, professional, and convenient. And best of all, it's a truly affordable option. Limetown listeners get 10% off their first month with the discount code "Limetown," so why not start today? Go to BetterHelp.com/Limetown. Join over 1 million people taking charge of their mental health. Again, that's BetterHelpHELP.com/Limetown. Thanks for listening. What makes the Limetown tragedy unique? What makes it worth a continuing discussion in spite of the collective moving on is the complete lack of context. In the 10 years since, no one group or individual has taken responsibility. No explanations have been uncovered, or given with any credibility and, most tragically, no survivors have been found. Limetown was established in June of 2002 in an undeveloped region of White County and Middle Tennessee. The township was owned by Reolor, which we now know was a private corporation owned entirely by. Bernard Bromvilleard or R.B.villeard, as he fathered up Jim for the thick of the efficiency. That's Hunter Garrett, Mr.villeard's biographer. Hello. Hi, how are you? We'll get back to him in a bit. Grown was broken on a corporate campus in the fall of 2002. This is Terry Hillkins. I'm a reporter for the Spartan Sentinel in Sparta, Tennessee, and I have been loosely covering the Limetown story on and off for the past, well, 10 years or so. And Terry told me that Limetown was originally built to house up to 1,000 researchers and their families. Which estimated to have cost somewhere between $1.7 and $2 billion for the construction alone. Whoa. Yeah, well, like I said before, nothing about this construction was secret or hidden. Those numbers are public record. There were the necessary permits and forms filled out as well as the token acknowledgments to the public. So what was the publicly stated purpose, then? Well, that was always a little vague, but I think they're PR director. If they bothered to have, one would tell you that their intent was to gain a full understanding of the human brain. What? A full understanding of it. What does that mean? I have no idea, Lee, and none of us did. This was from the beginning RB Villard's passion play. Here's Hunter Garrett again. He privately revealed to his friends that he felt that this is a quote mind you, that this could change the destiny of the species. Which explains the confidence he had in his investment. Right. And the confidence he had in Oscar totem, all of which ultimately makes him somewhat of a tragic figure. Well, he's Don Quixote. Well, yeah, yeah, yeah, that's quite right. When Villard's relationship with Dr. Oscar totem started remains unclear. But we do know that Dr. totem was named the lead researcher of the facility before construction even began. Back to Terry. The idea of an actual town that is a community with restaurants, bars, a hardware store, or even that ridiculous movie theater seems to have come from Dr. totem, who felt he needed the touches of home to get the brightest minds in his field to flock to the wilds of White County, Tennessee, I guess. It is rather remote. That's not exactly South Beach. But what did his press release say? You have that, right? Yeah. So you're here. We want this town to be a place that researchers and their families want to live, a place where work, family, and fun come together for the betterment of the world. Wow. So we made it sound like Disneyland or something. So together with Dr. totem's vision and RB Villard's investment, it was built and they did, in fact, come. Researchers and technicians at every level of the neuroscience field, including my uncle, came from each corner of the globe, most leaving their current jobs, with others even coming out of retirement. There was a buzz, as it was described to me by those familiar with that initial recruitment, but the cause went undefined to everyone on the outside. It should be made clear here that while the greatest mystery surrounding Lime Town remains its final days, an almost equally frustrating question surrounds the town's real purpose. Why did it require such a massive undertaking? What about this particular research justified the amount of workers Dr. totem felt was necessary to execute it? Speculation ranges from the basic curing of disease to the almost impossible task of brain mapping. The truth in this circumstance, however, remains uncertain. The facility was opened on June 3rd, 2003. 327 people were housed there. Not only those in the neuroscience field in their families, but other personnel to actually run a town. Cooks, janitors, landscapers, plumbers, electricians. A lot of people pulled double duty. So brain researcher by day, barber or janitor by night? Well, eight alternate days, but yeah, basically, it was Mayberry, only it was run by some of the smartest people on the planet. For a little over eight months, things as undefined as those things are for our purposes, appear to have run smoothly. Initially, there was mild regional interest in limestone, but outside of some anonymous chatter in the smaller corners of the internet, things proceeded without any substantial public scrutiny. And then, very suddenly. - We need a button to start with you. Why can't you give us the power to fly with us? - In the end, these are the facts. 327 men, women, and children have vanished. In the 10 years since, not one survivor has been located. In 2007, nighttime primetime scored an interview with Kyle Wollinski, a contractor who stated he worked on security detail at Lambtown. - So you're saying you have no idea what happened in those three days? - We were just told to keep everyone out and shoot anyone who didn't listen. We rotated shifts at the perimeter barracks. Day shift, night shift, day shift, night shift. That morning, we were just told to leave the gates. - Was there no security detail in the town itself? - No, not from our group. - Who told you to leave then? - I don't know. - You don't know. - We never knew. A voice on a phone. - Then, how were you paid? - In cash. - Mr. Wollinski also revealed in the interview that he and his fellow contractors had been held in detention for 18 months at Guantanamo Bay for questioning. An accusation later confirmed by the State Department. Mr. Wollinski could not be reached for comment for this story. His current whereabouts are unknown. (gentle music) And then there's the aforementioned R.B. Villard, the former telecommunications titan and one of Forbes magazine's most wealthy men on the planet, the man who personally bankrolled the entire Limetown project, the man who should know more than anyone, revealed almost the least when called before Congress in May of 2004. Replayed here is the most infamous exchange with minority leader, Pitney. - Mr. Villard, you've yet to provide a single, useful piece of information about the purposes of this institution. Are you, honestly, going to sit here and act like you don't know anything? - Congresswoman, I couldn't expect you to understand the invective and the hysteria I've endured over the previous three months. I suppose it's not so different from the vitriol I've endured throughout my entire career. I still believe that one day the work of "Rail Law" will be assigned its rightful place in the annals of history. And you, Congresswoman, you and the rest of the inept 108 will go down in the annals of nothing. - Mr. Villard, what do you mean still believe? - My client refrains from any further testimony. - RB Villard also could not be reached for comment, as he has hidden from public view since the hearing. (gentle music) Then there's Dr. Oscar Totem, the relatively young neuroscientist in whom RB Villard invested. I could find no one to speak on record about his life, but this is what we know. Oscar Totem worked in a private lab based out of Sydney, Australia, before being named the head researcher at LIME Town. He has been universally described as brilliant, but also volatile and difficult to work with. What cannot be denied is his almost childlike optimism. Played here is a clip from a speech he gave in 2002, the International Neuroscience Winter Conference in sold in Austria. Because I am an optimist when it comes to my fellow man. I do not think we are as limited or as powerless as we sometimes feel. We shouldn't look to the stars and feel smaller. We should look to the stars in defiance and be able to reveal the power, the magnitude of the uniquely gifted human mind. The human mind. There is a mystery there we must live in, must thrive in. It is there in the darkness where we will find the light that unites us all. Thank you. (audience applauds) - By all accounts, Dr. Oscar Totem was a remarkable man, revered by some, feared by many, but respected by all within his field. But as stated earlier, known would go on record for any part of the story, perhaps out of fear of a potential link of their name to his. Despite his fall from grace, Dr. Totem remains remarkable for another reason. His were the only human remains found in the town on the day of the disappearance. His teeth were recovered from the charred remnants, the base of the stake on the execution site. It is presumed he was burned alive. Why is the question no one can answer? The question no one can answer at nearly every turn of Limetown. The only meaning of Limetown remains subjective, something each individual must piece together from the chaos and project back onto its blank canvas. It is a tragedy, like any real tragedy, that forces us to confront our worst fears and exposes an underlying hope that there is a larger narrative to everything, that there must be meaning at all. The moment it hits you, the same moment you attempt to rebuild again for better or worse, is where I started when I spoke with the families of the victims. While I did have a family member living in Limetown, because of familial disputes and distance, he was never much more than a man who had to be pointed out to mean photographs. Out of respect for their wishes, neither the family members I spoke with or the victims will be identified in this montage of voices. - I was standing in my kitchen. - I was in my office just sitting down with my coffee. - My sister called me in my car. - I was sitting right here, where I'm talking to you. - I was at the grocery store. - I still see her face everywhere. I don't want to, and then I worry if I don't. - It's like someone just, I don't know. - Took my arm from me. How do you live without an arm? You keep living, but everything else is just that much worse. - I've had issues since his disappearance. I can't feel. - I'm sorry. - That car was hers. It's sitting out in the backyard. We covered it with a tarp about a year after she was gone. - I like to go inside and just sit. - She said, "Dad, I'm scared." That's all. That's the last thing she ever said to me. I am haunted by the ghost of another present. - He told me he was sorry. He didn't say why, I think they knew something. No one can convince me different. - I couldn't understand her. Bad reception. My last conversation with my daughter had bad cell reception. - I dream about him. He talks to me. We talk about everything. Nothing. He says he's doing well. When I wake up, that's the reason I'll fight to do it all over again. I know one day I'll see him. - When each family member was asked, do you think your loved one is still alive? There was a surprisingly unanimous response. - Yes, absolutely. - Yes, she is. - I know she's alive still. I can feel it. - That's the only thing that keeps me going. - He's not gone. I know they're coming back. - When I spoke with now retired federal agent. - Ron Calhoun and I worked with the Federal Bureau of Investigation during the Limetown incident. - Ron told me that the sense of optimism shared by the victims was pretty standard in an unresolved case like this. - Yes ma'am, when people don't see a body and have no reason to think that their loved one has been harmed, it is pretty standard for the grieving party to hold out hope, at least in my experience. As they should, specifically to this case. - As they should. You personally believe that they are still alive? - Yes ma'am. - Why do you believe that? - Well, I worked for the FBI for nearly 32 years. And in 32 years time, you can see some pretty troubling things to put it delicately. You grow a pretty thick skin to most stuff. And I have worked many crime scenes involving disappearances or kidnappings or other events of that nature. But nothing, nothing sticks with me like Limetown. There was nothing left behind. We dusted for prints, combed every surface for hair, fingernails, hell. Even some spit somewhere in a toothbrush. And look, look, we have visual proof that there was a large population on that site, February 8th. And on February 11th, it's like no one ever was. - What do you make of that? - That this was purposeful. It was following a plan. And it was done masterfully. I have never seen anything like it. - I'm sorry, I don't understand how. How could 327 people be moved under complete surveillance without anyone noticing? - Well, now you've hit my cut off of understanding. - No ideas, no theories? As far as I'm concerned, those Yahoo's selling plastic alien ships and the raptured trinkets out next to Limetown have as good an idea as any. Not a day goes by, I don't think of it. Did we miss something? Did we all miss something? I don't know, I don't know. - My first view of Limetown, what remains of it was on a bright autumn day last October. I was with Terry Hillkins again, this time in the field. - Let's just over the ridge here. You can see the top of the central research facility. - My first impression of Limetown, that's it? - Wow, yeah, I see it. It's a lot smaller than I imagined it would be. - Yeah, it's pretty common for people on camera ads 10 pounds, I think. This electrified board word fence is new. The original perimeter was about a mile back, but otherwise take away the decade of unchecked wildlife and the youthful vandalism and you're seeing it. That is Limetown. - The houses literally all have white picket fences. - Yeah, the dream within the dream. - Can we get closer? - Oh, absolutely. - We walk through the abandoned streets towards the central research facility, past the beautiful homes with their fenced in yards now turned against them, past the shops, the restaurants, all of them empty, hollow. So where did the name Limetown actually come from? - From the caves, all these houses are connected to caves, they're built over for temperature control. The facility itself is built deep into the earth, presumably using the caves as a way to cheaply keep their mass of electronic constructs, things from overeating. So Limestone Caves, town built sort of into the caves. Of course the rumors go that the caves might have been used for other reasons, but... - What other reasons? - Well, anything you can think of. There's an entire conspiracy industry built on the main road that weighs back if you're looking for campfire spook stories. They have shirts, tree ornaments, all kinds of stuff. There's actually a problem with people getting lost in the surrounding cave systems because they fancy themselves blunkers, I guess. They actually had to steal several cave entrances to keep people out. - The domed research facility is at the far end of town built directly into the hill with only its front end visible. It almost feels dynamic as if the structure is actively crawling from the earth or being dragged back down into it again. Everything about it says keep out. Anyways, you can see this has been closed down to the public. Well, I'm really open to the public, but now. - I have to say this is a pretty eerie place. - Well, as soon as this facility could have been boarded up and locked away, it was. The only reason it hadn't been destroyed outright is to give the illusion of hope, which is to say you are not alone in feeling spooked. - Hope is the last thing I feel standing here. - Yeah, it's not much to look at, that's for sure. You want to check out one of the houses? - Standing in one of the homes, I was struck with how normal everything was. Not just furniture, arrangement, or other aesthetic touches of domesticity, but the overwhelming feeling of being a voyeur and someone else's home while they quickly ran to the grocery store. Photos on the walls, clothes in the closets, even junk mail sitting on the kitchen table. (soft music) - They got mail? - Sure, yeah. - I guess I just assumed they didn't get mail. - Why do you say that? - I don't know, it just seems very-- - It's the idea of the entire venture as you know it. - Yes, like these people were supposed to be off the grid. - Right, nothing says grid quite like a Sears catalog. The mail would come in one very large delivery to the guard shack. We walked past by the fence and then they would distribute it within the town themselves. No one was hiding. That gets lost in time a bit and this town was not hidden from the world. It was built in plain sight, it operated in plain sight. We knew something unique was happening, but no one really cared, not until after, of course. Why would they? It's hard to think about now, but these were real people, or real people. Sorry, I'm an optimist. - To say these houses were pristine images of the past would not be accurate, however. Animals and intruders alike had certainly taken their shots before the lockdown of the site. But the most noticeable thing, and the most difficult thing to ignore. - The smell, right? - What is that? - It's dry rot. All the living quarter houses have them. - Is that due to the abandonment or-- - That's part of it, yeah. But the full answer is actually pretty silly. The designer of this city was given a pretty healthy budget to work with, that meant constructing this town of beautiful well-built homes made of the best materials. However, in doing all this, or whatever reason, they forgot to put kick-out flashing on the gutters. It's a simple oversight, but every time it rained, water would feed right into the walls. A dry rot is a misnomer, it comes from wet conditions, and then if left untreated, it spreads like cancer. While the people lived here, I'm not sure many of them even noticed, not enough time to. But over the years since, all these houses have become just riddled with it. These beautiful shrines to the American dream just rotting from the inside out. All these brilliant minds, all these gaces of industry, you know, and the future of this, the future of that, and they didn't plan for the rain. - When we arrived to the site of the execution, all that remained was a stake buried in the ground, the dark memorial to the madness of that night. Seemingly out of reverence, no plants surround the base. The only reminder of tragedy can be found in the darkened wood of the stake from the flames. Terry remains silent as we got closer. His demeanor changing from tour guide to reverent observer. - What do you feel standing here? - I feel exactly how I feel about all of this. - Which is how? - Like I've stared at something too long. And I don't know a damn thing. - And that was supposed to conclude part one of my report. Then something happened. - Hello? - God, sorry, I was just pounding. - So come on, just take your time. - How do I start? - Okay, I have someone you need to talk to. - What do you mean? - She's the only other one. - Who? - Leah, it's a survivor. She wants to speak to you, and only you. I'm gonna put her on now. - But, Terry, I don't understand. I mean, why does she wanna talk to Mia? I feel like we should tell someone to-- - No. - Excuse me? - Ms. Attic, you and I, we are the only ones to speak. No one else. I'm sorry it has to be this way. - How could I believe you? - I'll leave the details with Mr. Hulkins. - Terry? Is this real? - Are you still recording? - Okay, stop recording. (laughing) (gentle music) (gentle music) (gentle music) (gentle music) (gentle music) (gentle music) (gentle music) (gentle music) (gentle music) (gentle music) (gentle music) (gentle music) (gentle music) (gentle music) - Hey, this is Leah. I'm sorry Mr. Carl, but please leave a message and I will get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you. At the tone, please record your message. - Hello, Leah. I'm sorry for calling so late. I just, I wanted to let you know that tomorrow I will be wearing a green hat and I will be sitting at the picnic table to the right of the baseball field. You can call me Winona. Winona isn't my name, but 10 years of silence was not a mistake. It was a choice. So when you ask yourself, why would someone hide from the world for so long? Imagine an answer, any answer and try to imagine the cost. Again, green hat, picnic table right at the baseball field. I apologize for the hour. (gentle music) - My name is Leah Haddock and I'm an investigative reporter with APR. The following interaction is the first documented conversation with a survivor or citizen, as Winona calls herself, of the Limetown tragedy, the known details of which we covered in part one of the series. If you missed part one, I would recommend going back to it now because Winona's words take us into the unknown and urge new questioning. Since the release of part one, I have been working with Winona through a series of frustratingly circular interactions, something you'll get a sense of very quickly, which eventually led to me driving halfway across the country, alone to a small hotel that seemed very surprised anyone actually wanted to stay there. I received that voicemail from Winona at 3.51 a.m. On the same day, I was to meet her. - Okay, so I'm driving up to the park now. I don't see her. (keyboard clicking) I sat at the park bench for over an hour, and there were no signs of Winona. This is not unusual with subjects who are sharing information they deem personal or perhaps even incriminating. If you're not careful, it's exactly when a story can fall apart. So I gave her a call. - Hello. - Hi, is this Winona? - Who is this? - Oh, of course, I'm sorry. This is Lea Hadek. We were supposed to meet at (beep) park around an hour ago. - Why did you call me Winona? - That's the name you gave me? - We've spoken before. - Yes, yes, many times, but we spoke three days ago and-- - After several minutes of talking through our recent history, Winona finally seemed at least open to the idea that we had spoken before. - I have to write things down. I don't know where my notes are right now. - Is this your number, the one I have on my phone? - Yes. - Okay, I will call you back. - Two hours later, Winona called me back. She apologized profusely and then gave me an address for a motel a few miles away. - Hi, Winona, Lea Hadek. - Yes, you can come in and close the door. - Oh, yes, sorry. - So I have to say what an honor this is for-- - I have to write things down. I think I said that before, but it's the only way for me to remember things sometimes. The problem being, sometimes I forget where I put things and I couldn't find my notes before. - Really, it's okay. - Anyway, I found them and I have to say this before we continue, please, sit. There are several conditions that need to be agreed to prior to this conversation. - Conditions? - I can only speak within a very specific set of parameters. You cannot ask what the parameters are. I just won't speak to them. I am to give you the information I can give and no more. I will speak to no one else, ever. This is my final message associated with this matter. Once my information is given and these conditions have been met, I will give you what you need to speak to the next citizen. - The next citizen? - A flound town? - Yes. - There are more, of course. Do you agree to these conditions? - Who wrote the conditions? - Do you agree to these conditions? - Yes, I have to. - After much internal debate, we have decided that we are withholding Winona's legal name and the location of our interview, despite pressure from the FBI and the rest of the world. I can say that we did verify her identity against the publicly available fingerprint manifest released by the Limetown Commission report. She is, in fact, a survivor. I can also say that where we met with several hundred miles from where she currently resides. Beyond her status as a survivor, her account could not be fact checked. The need for this statement will soon become clear. - Support for Limetown comes from BetterHelp, the online counseling service that's there for you. If you need help with depression, anxiety, stress, relationships, trauma, or even sleeping, BetterHelp can connect you with a licensed professional therapist who can speak with you in a safe and private online environment. BetterHelp lets you do it on your own time at your own pace. You can schedule secure video or phone sessions, plus chat and text with your therapist whenever it's convenient for you. In fact, so many people have been using BetterHelp that they are recruiting additional counselors in all 50 states. It's all completely confidential, professional, and convenient. And best of all, it's a truly affordable option. Limetown listeners get 10% off their first month with the discount code, Limetown. So why not start today? Go to betterhelp.com/limetown. Join over 1 million people taking charge of their mental health. Again, that's BetterHelpHELP.com/limetown. Thanks for listening. - Sorry, would you like any tea? - No, thank you. - I brought my own kettle and tea cups. For some reason, it was the only thing I grabbed from my house there. - Your house in Limetown? - Yes, I lived in house 27 with a man and a small girl. I was there because of the man. - So he was your husband? - Yes, and the little girl? - Yes. - Do you know where they are now? - No, I'm sorry. - I worked at the diner and then we'll do some clean up at the facility at nights. It was demeaning. - What did you do before? - It was not working at a diner or scrubbing toilets. - Okay, can you be more specific? - No. - Why did you do work? You found demeaning. - It was my role. We all have a role and it's so important you play your role for the good of us all. That was a slogan. - God, that's awful. - I didn't like my jobs, but I loved living in Limetown. - Why? - I don't know what that place is now. I only know then. It was beautiful. The green surrounds you and the heirs. There was nothing around for miles. You could walk to everything in town and everything in town was part of the compensation. No money was exchanged. There was no money at all anywhere. I like Tuesdays because they played older films at the theater, the little foxes, city lights, double indemnity. The business day coincided with school so we could all walk our kids home in the evenings. We didn't lock our doors. - I noticed the doors didn't have locks. - It was freedom. - But you didn't have the choice. - We didn't need the choice. - Was there any representative of law enforcement? - There was a city manager. He had many workers. - So they acted as police. - Is that important to you? - I'm just curious about rules and regulations. That cannot be what's important to you. - To be frank, I don't know what I can or can't talk about. - I said I won't answer questions but that doesn't mean that you can't ask them. - Okay. What happened to everyone in Limetown? How many survivors are there? - Those aren't the right questions. 10 years and you don't even know the right questions. - Can you answer them though? - No. Those answers are simple and unsatisfying and totally beyond the point. Money moves the world. Why would this be different, huh? It's not why you're here. - Why am I here then? - Without a word, Winona began to make tea for herself. As she waited for the water to boil, she massaged her forehead with her fingertips. She seemed to be in pain. I asked her, are you okay? She held a single finger to her lips and the anger in that moment was, among many things, very uncomfortable. She returned to watching the pot boil and massaging her forehead. We sat in silence for several minutes as she finished making her tea. As she sat back down, she went through her notes again, her lips moving with the words mumbling softly. She closed her eyes, squeezing them tight, her lips continuing on. Then her eyes opened. Two men in two different rooms on opposite ends of a floor. Can you see it? Okay, sure. It's night. Not that there are any windows here, but most of the lights are out. People are home, I am not home, I am here. The only lights are in the two different rooms with the two different men on opposite ends of a floor. Can you see? Yes. This is the first day I see. I am emptying trash cans at the desks. They don't notice me or they don't care. As I watch, the men in the room on the right hand furiously draw something on a large sheet of paper pinned to the wall. I can't see what he's drawing. The man in the room on the left hand sits in a chair. I'm close enough to know it's him. The one my husband and his friends are all here for. I stand here in the middle of the room in the dark for 10 minutes. The man on one end draws and the other doesn't move. I leave. The next night I am here again. The man drawing is different, it's a woman in fact. But everything else is the same. I try to stay longer this time, but nothing changes. The next night it is the same. Different person drawing, same man sitting. This happens several times. And then there is that night. I'm here, there is a different person drawing and the man who sits is not sitting, he is now drawing too. This is not the only odd thing though. It takes me a few minutes to notice, but then I realize their movements are the same. There is 50 feet of difference between the men, but I can see them both from where I stand. I can't get closer, I shouldn't even be here. I'll come back later at the end of my shift. I stand in the room where the man we're all here for was drawing. His drawing is here on the wall. It's a still life of a bowl of fruit. It's drawn in black. I am now standing in the room where the other man was drawing. His drawing is here on the wall. It's a still life of a bowl of fruit. It's drawn in blue. But everything else between the two drawings is exactly the same. I go back and forth between the rooms. Finally, I remove the paper from the wall and I place one drawing on top of the other. They're identical in every single way, including the mistakes. I do not believe this. I place the drawing back on the wall and I leave. I return every night for the next ten days. The person drawing changes, the results are the same. I search the rooms for any possible connection between the two. Cameras, secret openings, anything. The rooms are four walls and a doorway. I cannot explain what is happening, so I talk to the man who lives in the house with me. He gets quiet, his face flushes. He tells me I can't work there anymore. He'll see that I am given another job. We fight about this. I ask him, what makes the man they're all here for so special? I need to hear him say it. He does not say it. I could tell he is afraid, but this only makes me angrier. The next night, when I return to desks in the drawing rooms, the only light comes from the room where the man sits. I watch him from a distance in the dark. Then he turns his gaze to me. He sees me. I want to hide, but I can't. I can't move. Then he speaks to me. I am watching as he speaks to me, but he does not open his mouth. I am at least 30 feet from him, but I hear his voice like he is standing next to me. He speaks the name of the young girl in my house. He says, I need to take care of her now. That I have seen what I need to see. He thanks me. I leave. I run. I hold the girl in her bed as she sleeps. And as I hold her, calm grows over me. I understand. You have what you need to understand. I'm not sure that I do. I'm sure. So you're not going to explain any further? No. Can you tell me more about your husband's work? No. Did you have the same problems with your memory prior to living in Limetown? Leah, come closer. Her name was Sylvia. She was seven. I don't know if she's still alive. So many are not. So many are not alive. There are others who've died. So many others. What happened? Before the panic started, I left the town. I walked right out. I don't know why we were sleeping. Then I was not sleeping. Then I was walking away. The next day was the panic. She kept me safe and I don't know why. I haven't been able to find anyone since I tried to listen, but it's so quiet. Why did you reach out to me? Because we all have a role and yours is to tell our story. And it's so important you play your role for the good of us all. My role? What do I have to do with this? You're not a mistake. You said he earlier. He kept you safe. Was that your husband or was it the man that you were all there for? Was that man Oscar Todum? I think we should end this. I'm sorry. We can talk about something else. You mentioned a movie theater. That petty envelope on the bedstand has a cell phone in it. Take it. The next citizen will contact you in a few days. I really think you should leave now. Winona, I'm sorry, but this is very important. You said I need to tell your story and I've traveled a long way to be here, and I really think that you're not being fair with me. And maybe you were there. And I am sorry, but I have to address Oscar Todum. Please. OK. Thank you for all this. I apologize if I upset you. I hope you find Sylvia. Thank you. When you spend so long focusing on questions and only imagining the possibilities, it is something like a shock when you're suddenly given even a taste of an answer. That was what I was experiencing in my car outside Winona's motel room, shock, and not from the content or the sudden ferocity of the conversation. No. The reason my hands were shaking so badly that I couldn't get the keys into the ignition was because I had sat across from a survivor of Limetown, and she had told me something no one else in the world besides the citizens of Limetown knew. In my car, in that moment, I had a secret. It was mine. Finally, I had something to grow. It was not fear shaking my hands. It was exhilaration. The man they were all there for. That was what Winona had to tell me. They, everyone in Limetown, were there for the talent of a single man that she did not understand. And Oscar Todum's role in this appears to be more mysterious than anyone had imagined. Was he this man? And if so, is that why he was killed? And if others were also killed, as Winona claimed, what happened? Where are there remains? I didn't know what to expect going in, but now I have a cell phone. And on the other end of it, more. There is much more here. If this is my role, as Winona said, then I accept it. And all that comes with it. [SCREAMING] It is 2.37 in the morning. I'm in my hotel room and woke up to someone banging on the door and shouting my name. I am recording this in case something happens. I can see through my window what appears to be a man. In his 40s, slamming his head. Into my door. Blood is running over his face. [SCREAMING] I am moving to the door now. What do you want from me? I see you. What do you want? Back to your morning. May I have it? May I warn you? You can't. You can't see me. Do you hear me? [MUSIC PLAYING] Stop. Stop. Stop. No. [MUSIC PLAYING] Vic, is your morning? [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] And that's this week's show. Please check the show notes for links for both shows this week at sonicsociety.org. And please join us next week for another great modern hit as we listen brightly to another session of the Sonic Society. Ah, hints galore. Keep working on your Nads RIM projects, and until next week, I'm Jack Ward. And I'm David Alt, but Jack, what is Nads RIM? I wish we had time to talk tonight. [LAUGHTER] I wish I had time to finish. [LAUGHTER] But bye now. Bye-bye. [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] The Sonic Society is written and produced weekly by Jack J. Ward and David Alt, with original music by Sharon B. at SharonB.com. All features, interviews and audio drama shorts are owned completely by their originators and provided to the Sonic Society by Creative Commons Licensing. The Society itself originates from Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada. Thanks for listening. [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] [MUSIC PLAYING] This has been an electric Baikuna production. [MUSIC PLAYING]
