The Unwritten

Episode 13 — The Ones Who Remember

The words came from every person outside.

"We remember you."

Arin stood frozen beside the window.

There were dozens of them.

Men.

Women.

Children.

Some looked familiar.

Others didn't.

But every single person was staring directly at him.

Kian slowly moved beside him.

"Those people weren't there a minute ago."

"I know."

Mira looked through another window.

"There are more behind the house."

Arin turned toward her.

"Who are they?"

She shook her head.

"I don't know."

One of the people outside stepped forward.

An elderly man.

He raised his hand.

Then pointed directly at Arin.

The others followed.

All at once.

Arin stepped away from the window.

"What do they want?"

A voice came from the phone in his hand.

The call had ended.

Yet the voice returned.

"They want what you took."

Arin stared at the phone.

"What did I take?"

Static.

Then:

"Their names."

The call ended again.

Kian looked at Arin.

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know."

Mira suddenly grabbed the phone.

"Where did you get this?"

"It was upstairs."

"Who gave it to you?"

"I don't know."

She examined the screen.

Her expression changed.

"This phone doesn't have a battery."

Arin frowned.

"What?"

Mira turned it over.

The back panel was completely empty.

"No battery."

Kian looked at it.

"Then how was it working?"

Mira slowly looked toward the crowd outside.

"Because it wasn't a phone."

The front door suddenly opened.

Arin jumped.

Nobody was there.

The hallway was empty.

Then the lights began turning off.

One by one.

Living room.

Kitchen.

Stairs.

Hallway.

Darkness approached them.

Kian whispered:

"Move."

They ran upstairs.

Behind them, footsteps entered the house.

Slow.

Calm.

Unhurried.

Mira closed the bedroom door.

"Window."

Kian opened it.

The drop wasn't too high.

They could escape through the backyard.

Arin looked outside.

The crowd had disappeared.

"Where did they go?"

Mira looked down.

"They didn't."

Arin followed her gaze.

They were standing in the backyard.

All of them.

Looking upward.

Waiting.

Kian shut the window.

"We're trapped."

A knock came from the bedroom door.

Everyone froze.

Three knocks.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Arin looked at Mira.

"The Ledger."

"No."

Mira's face had gone pale.

"It's not the Ledger."

Another knock.

Then a voice.

His mother's voice.

"Arin?"

He stepped toward the door.

Mira stopped him.

"Don't."

"But that's my mother."

"Listen."

Arin did.

The voice came again.

"Arin, open the door."

Something was wrong.

His mother's voice sounded exactly right.

But there was no emotion behind it.

No fear.

No concern.

Nothing.

Kian whispered:

"It's copying her."

The voice changed.

Now it was Kian's.

"Arin, open the door."

Then Mira's.

"Arin, open the door."

Then Arin's own.

"Arin, open the door."

The three voices spoke together.

"Open the door."

The door handle began turning.

Arin stepped backward.

"What happens if it gets in?"

Mira looked at him.

"It doesn't get in."

"Then?"

"It gets remembered."

The handle stopped.

Silence.

Then footsteps moved away.

Kian waited several seconds.

"Is it gone?"

Mira shook her head.

"No."

"How do you know?"

"Because it wants us to think it is."

Arin noticed something beneath his bed.

A small metal box.

He pulled it out.

There was no lock.

Inside were four objects.

A red thread.

A broken watch.

A photograph.

And a key.

Arin picked up the photograph.

It showed the same four children.

But this time, the image was clear.

Arin.

Kian.

Mira.

Arian.

Behind them stood an enormous black door.

Arin turned the photograph over.

THE ORIGINAL ROOM — 4:20

Kian stared at it.

"The coordinates."

Arin looked at the key.

"What does this open?"

Mira took it.

Her expression changed.

"I've seen this before."

"Where?"

"On Arian's desk."

"Where is that?"

She looked toward the floor.

"Under the old hospital."

Arin immediately understood.

"The place from the memory."

Mira nodded.

"The Original Room."

A loud crash came from downstairs.

The front door had broken.

Kian looked at the window.

"We need to go."

Arin put the objects into his pocket.

"Hospital?"

Mira nodded.

"Hospital."

They climbed through the bedroom window and dropped into the backyard.

The crowd was gone.

Not one person remained.

Kian looked around.

"Where did they go?"

Arin noticed something on the ground.

Footprints.

Hundreds of them.

All leading away from the house.

Toward the city.

Mira looked at them.

"They're leaving."

"Why?"

"Because they got what they came for."

Arin's stomach tightened.

"What?"

Mira looked at him.

"Your location."

They reached the abandoned hospital just before midnight.

The building had been closed for years.

Broken windows.

Overgrown entrance.

Old signs hanging from the walls.

Arin held the key tightly.

"Where?"

Mira pointed toward the basement.

They descended.

The lower floor was dark.

At the end of the corridor was a metal door.

Arin inserted the key.

It turned.

Click.

The door opened.

Inside was a circular room.

Four chairs surrounded a machine.

The machine was covered in dust.

But one light was still glowing.

Red.

4:20.

Kian walked toward it.

"This is it."

Arin looked around.

"This is where I was created."

Mira shook her head.

"No."

She pointed toward the fourth chair.

"That's where Arian sat."

Arin stared.

"Then where was I?"

Mira pointed toward the center.

There was a fifth chair.

Smaller.

For a child.

Arin slowly approached it.

A screen above the chair turned on.

Text appeared.

SUBJECT: ARIN

STATUS: REPLACEMENT

MEMORY: INCOMPLETE

IDENTITY: STABLE

Then another line appeared.

ORIGINAL SUBJECT: ARIAN VALE

STATUS: UNKNOWN

Arin stared.

"Unknown?"

Kian looked at the screen.

"If Arian wasn't destroyed..."

Mira finished the thought.

"Then he's still somewhere."

The machine suddenly activated.

The screen changed.

ORIGINAL SUBJECT LOCATED.

Arin's heart stopped.

"Where?"

Coordinates appeared.

Not somewhere across the city.

Not somewhere underground.

Not somewhere distant.

They were directly beneath them.

Arin looked at the floor.

"There."

The machine began vibrating.

A hidden panel opened.

A staircase descended into darkness.

Kian looked at Arin.

"We're really doing this?"

Arin smiled nervously.

"Apparently."

They started down.

After several steps, Arin noticed writing on the wall.

One sentence.

Written in his own handwriting.

I knew you'd come.

He touched it.

A second sentence appeared beneath it.

But you're not the one I'm waiting for.

Arin looked ahead.

At the bottom of the staircase stood a boy.

Older than the child he'd seen.

Older than Arian should have been.

Sixteen years old.

Same face.

Same eyes.

Same smile.

The boy looked at Arin.

Then at Kian.

Then at Mira.

Finally, he said:

"You're all late."

Arin couldn't speak.

The boy smiled.

"I've been waiting since June 9, 2009."

Mira whispered:

"Arian."

The boy shook his head.

"No."

He looked directly at Arin.

"I'm what came after him."

The door behind them slammed shut.

And the lights went out.