The air in the cornfield was heavy with anticipation as the group of seven individuals stood in a circle, their eyes locked on each other with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Tres Varboro's fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, a nervous energy pulsing through her as she tried to make sense of the surreal situation they found themselves in.

Barb Messer's gaze flickered from one person to the next, her nurturing instincts on high alert as she assessed the group. Mike Fletcher's jaw clenched, his muscles tense with the weight of his past mistakes pressing down on him. Joe Renhart's sharp eyes scanned the faces around him, a calculating glint hinting at the secrets he held close.