Recorded April 19, 2017, 12:51 a.m.
The group ahead of Kyle moves cautiously, bunched together.
JEREMY: Do you hear anything? Is she still there?
SARA: I can’t tell.
MEL: I don’t like this.
NICK: Oh, come on. What’s not to like? It’s just a nice walk out in the woods.
Mel giggles nervously. Vanessa shoots Nick an irritated glance.
VANESSA: Maybe we should—
MIRANDA: Shh. Listen.
A scream splits the air. The teens flinch at the sound, and Mel cuts off her own scream with a hand clamped over her mouth. They whip their flashlights up into the trees, illuminating a crow perched on a branch.
ANTHONY: Is that . . . ?
TRINA: It was just a bird?
NICK: Oh, man. There’s more of them. Look.
He points his flashlight farther in among the trees. Birds’ eyes flash. Dozens of crows fill the branches, eerily silent.
SARA: The birds come after the dark. That’s what it said in Becca’s notebook.
ANTHONY: Are they dangerous?
SARA: I have no idea.
TRINA: Oh God. Oh God, what is that?
Her flashlight points among the trees. Not at the branches this time, but at the ground, where a figure staggers. Its hair hangs bedraggled around its face. Its gait is uneven, knock-kneed, as if some vital thing has been broken in its legs, twisted. Its clothes are torn and muddy. It grasps at the nearest tree to pull itself forward with one hand; the other is missing. Its arm ends in a ragged black stump that sheds black, oily smoke, which seems to eat at the remaining flesh.
If it weren’t for the brightly patterned leggings she wears, visible even under the muck, it would be nearly impossible to recognize Vanessa Han.
The camera whips around, focusing on the other Vanessa Han standing on the road as she clucks her tongue, a gentle tsk-ing sound.
VANESSA: Oh dear. How did you get all the way out here?
Nick looks at the Vanessa on the road, and then at the girl dragging herself toward them through the trees, her mouth opening and closing like a gasping fish. Her glasses sit crookedly on her face. Nick takes a step back from the Vanessa on the road, eyes wide in uncomprehending horror.
NICK: Vanessa? What—what’s going on?
She cocks her head in a movement reminiscent of a bird getting a better look at the grub it’s about to eat.
VANESSA: Shouldn’t have let go, Nicky.
TRINA: Oh my God.
JEREMY: We have to help her.
He steps toward the edge of the road. Anthony catches him, holds him back.
JEREMY: We can’t just leave her out there.
ANTHONY: The rules—
JEREMY: Fuck the rules!
VANESSA: Yes. Fuck the rules. Go help her, Jeremy. I’ll come with you.
She smiles. Nick is shaking his head, a moan in the back of his throat. He whirls toward the Vanessa struggling toward them. She is perhaps fifteen feet away now, but she falls to her knees, her remaining hand braced against the ground.
NICK: Vanessa! Come on. Get up. Keep moving. Vanessa, come on.
He reaches out toward her. She looks up, dazed, and for a moment she doesn’t seem to see him. Then her eyes focus.
VANESSA: There’s no point. She’s not strong enough.
JEREMY: Shut up!
The Vanessa on the road smiles blandly. No one seems willing to move any closer to her, even Jeremy, his whole body alive with fury. The injured girl lets out a wordless scream and pushes herself back up to her feet, stumbling faster now, her hand outstretched for Nick’s.
VANESSA: Oh? That won’t do.
The imposter strides toward the edge of the road, heading for the injured girl. Nick shouts and lunges to intercept her. The camera swings away and misses the moment of contact. We have only the screams and shouts of the others to guess at what happens next.
JEREMY: Damn it!
ANTHONY: Grab her!
MIRANDA: No!
The camera stabilizes as silence falls. The scene is so still it could be a tableau. Nick stands stock-still at the edge of the road. Beside the road, a few inches from the safety of the stone path. His outline wavers, black smoke curling from it.
The injured Vanessa is huddled at the base of a tree just out of reach, arm still stretched out toward him. The imposter stands between them, clear of the others where they gather at the edge of the road.
MEL: Nick?
SARA: Pull him back on!
Mel grabs Nick’s arm—or tries to. Her fingers close around his upper arm and keep closing, cloth and flesh and bone crumpling under her touch like ash still holding the shape of a log. Mel screams, snatching her hand back.
MEL: Oh fuck oh fuck oh—
SARA: What did she do to him? Nick! Talk to me. Come on. You have to get back on the road.
VANESSA: He can’t answer. But don’t worry. You won’t have long to be upset. In a few minutes, you won’t remember him at all. Or any of this.
She bends down, and gently removes the glasses from the injured Vanessa’s face.
VANESSA: You’re distressingly flawed, you know.
She slips the glasses on. And then she grips the girl’s face in one hand, covering it with her palm, fingertips sinking into her skin. Vanessa bucks, screaming, as black rot spreads from her double’s fingers, crawling over her skin, eating away at her with incredible speed. One moment she is arching off the ground, her entire body and voice united in terror and pain, and then she seems to crumble in on herself, turning to ash that scatters on an unseen wind.
The girl is gone; her double remains.
JEREMY: I’m going to kill you.
VANESSA: You’re not. You’re already forgetting why you’re angry.
Jeremy’s expression spasms. The others have oddly vacant looks on their faces, fear giving way to consternation. Nick’s outline blurs more, wavering; he is being undone. More slowly than Vanessa, but steadily, without mercy.
SARA: She’s making us forget.
Her tone is deadened. She blinks.
SARA: She’s making us forget. We’re not going to remember she’s not really Vanessa. We have to—
She can’t seem to finish the thought. She rakes at her hair, slaps herself. Vanessa laughs. Mel whimpers, holding her head in both hands.
SARA: We have to do something!
She yanks open the zipper on her bag and shoves the flashlight into it, pulling out a camera instead. She turns it on with shaking hands, focuses it on Nick. His head turns toward her, the movement barely perceptible. He mouths something. It might be her name. The flash goes off.
The darkness crawls over Nick’s skin. Vanessa steps up to him. She puts a hand on his chest, rises to her tiptoes, and kisses him on the cheek.
He dissolves. She steps through the flurry of ash as every crow in the forest takes off in a storm of wings. No one moves. They stare, unfocused, into the forest. Except for Miranda, who watches the imposter, her anger electric. But she doesn’t interfere as Vanessa steps back onto the road and points.
VANESSA: Look, a crow.
They raise their flashlights, illuminating the last remaining crow.
CROW: Oh God. Oh God, what is that?
The crow screams again, and then flings itself into the air.
MEL: This is fucked up.
VANESSA: It was just a bird.
At the edge of the frame, Vanessa looks at Miranda, and presses a finger to her lips.
The phone swings as Kyle lowers it. The video ends.