EPISODE 4 — SEVEN YEARS FROM NOW
1493 Words
Nora stood outside the house.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the phone lying on the hallway floor.
It was still ringing.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Leah stood beside her, breathing heavily.
“Don’t go back inside.”
Nora didn’t answer.
The phone stopped.
The house became silent.
Then it rang again.
This time, the sound was different.
It wasn’t coming from the phone.
It was coming from everywhere.
The walls.
The windows.
The roof.
Even the ground beneath their feet seemed to vibrate with the ringing.
Leah grabbed Nora’s hand.
“Walk.”
They started down the street.
Neither of them looked back.
They reached the corner.
Nora finally stopped.
“Leah.”
“What?”
“My phone.”
“What about it?”
“We can’t leave it there.”
“Yes, we can.”
“My entire life is on that phone.”
“Your life is worth more than a phone.”
Nora looked back toward the house.
“But what if it knows where we are?”
Leah’s expression changed.
“What do you mean?”
“The calls.”
“What about them?”
“They’ve always known where I am.”
Leah stared at her.
“That’s true.”
“And they knew you.”
Leah looked away.
Nora noticed.
“You’re hiding something.”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You knew about the phone.”
Leah stayed silent.
“You knew about the calls.”
“I knew my mother was afraid of something.”
“You said your sister died before you were born.”
“She did.”
“Then why does the phone know her name?”
Leah finally looked at her.
“Because my mother believed my sister never died.”
Nora’s face went cold.
“What?”
“She said the doctors lied.”
“Why would they lie?”
“I don’t know.”
“Leah.”
“I was a child when she told me.”
“How old?”
“Eight.”
“And what exactly did she say?”
Leah swallowed.
“She said my sister was taken.”
“By who?”
“The house.”
Nora looked back.
The house stood at the end of the street.
It looked completely normal.
Too normal.
Leah continued.
“My mother said there was a house where children disappeared.”
Nora’s stomach tightened.
“What house?”
“I never knew.”
“Until now.”
Leah nodded.
“Until now.”
A car suddenly drove past them.
Nora jumped.
Leah grabbed her arm.
“Sorry.”
“I’m fine.”
But Nora wasn’t.
Something had changed.
She could feel someone watching them.
She looked toward the windows of the houses around them.
Curtains moved.
A shadow disappeared behind one.
“Leah.”
“What?”
“Someone’s watching us.”
Leah looked around.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Nora’s phone rang.
Both women froze.
Nora looked down.
She wasn’t holding a phone.
The ringing was coming from her coat pocket.
She reached inside.
Her fingers touched something cold.
She slowly pulled it out.
The old phone.
The one she’d found upstairs.
The phone from underneath the bed.
Leah stepped backward.
“Nora…”
The screen showed:
INCOMING CALL
NORA
Nora pressed decline.
The call immediately came back.
She declined again.
Again.
Again.
The phone kept ringing.
Leah whispered:
“Turn it off.”
“I can’t.”
“Take the battery out.”
“There is no battery.”
“What?”
Nora turned the phone over.
The back was sealed.
There was no charging port.
No SIM card.
Nothing.
Yet it continued ringing.
Nora answered.
“Hello?”
Static.
Then breathing.
Slow.
Weak.
A woman’s voice whispered:
“Nora.”
She recognized it.
The older version of herself.
“Who are you?”
“I already told you.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m here.”
“Where?”
A pause.
“Where you will be.”
Nora’s hands began shaking.
“Seven years?”
“Yes.”
“What happens?”
The voice didn’t answer.
“Nora?”
“Yes?”
“Do you know what today is?”
“Tuesday.”
“No.”
The voice sounded terrified.
“Today is the day it starts.”
“What starts?”
“The seven-year cycle.”
Nora looked at Leah.
“What cycle?”
The voice whispered:
“Every seven years, the house takes someone.”
Nora’s stomach dropped.
“Who?”
“Someone who answers.”
Nora looked at the phone.
“You mean me?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Not yet.”
Nora’s breathing stopped.
“Then who?”
The voice whispered:
“Leah.”
Leah’s face went white.
“No.”
Nora looked at her.
“Why you?”
“I don’t know.”
The older Nora began crying.
“You have to leave her.”
Nora shook her head.
“No.”
“You don’t understand.”
“She is my friend.”
“She won’t be.”
The call ended.
Leah stared at Nora.
“What did she say?”
Nora didn’t answer.
“Nora.”
“She said you’re going to be taken.”
Leah laughed nervously.
“Okay.”
“Leah.”
“Okay, that’s insane.”
“She knew your name.”
“So?”
“She said the house takes someone every seven years.”
Leah looked toward the house.
Then she whispered:
“My mother disappeared seven years ago.”
Nora froze.
“What?”
“She vanished.”
“When?”
“Exactly seven years ago.”
Nora looked at the old phone.
The screen had changed.
A countdown appeared.
06:59:42
Then:
06:59:41
Leah stared.
“What is that?”
“I don’t know.”
The countdown continued.
06:59:40
06:59:39
Nora looked at the house.
“Maybe we should leave town.”
Leah nodded.
“Immediately.”
They walked quickly toward the bus station.
Neither spoke.
The old phone continued counting down.
When they reached the station, Nora noticed something strange.
Every clock showed the same time.
2:13.
The digital screen above the ticket counter.
The clock on the wall.
The time on a stranger’s phone.
All of them.
2:13.
Nora whispered:
“It followed us.”
Leah shook her head.
“No.”
“Look.”
Leah turned.
A little boy was standing across the station.
He was staring directly at Nora.
He couldn’t have been older than six.
Nora stared back.
The boy slowly raised his hand.
He was holding a phone.
Then he pressed it against his ear.
Nora heard a ringing sound.
Her old phone rang in response.
The boy smiled.
Leah whispered:
“Don’t talk to him.”
Nora didn’t.
The boy lowered the phone.
Then he walked away.
Nora watched him disappear into the crowd.
A second later, her phone received a message.
HE REMEMBERS YOU.
Another message appeared.
DO YOU REMEMBER HIM?
Nora stared at the screen.
She didn’t.
Then a memory surfaced.
A hospital corridor.
A little boy.
A red balloon.
Her mother holding her hand.
And someone screaming:
“NORA, DON’T LET HIM SEE YOU!”
Nora gasped.
The memory vanished.
Leah grabbed her.
“What happened?”
“I remembered something.”
“What?”
Nora looked toward the exit.
“I’ve seen that boy before.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
The countdown on the phone suddenly stopped.
06:13:00
Then the screen went black.
A new message appeared.
YOU HAVE SIX HOURS.
Nora’s heart pounded.
“For what?”
The answer appeared.
TO FIND THE FIRST BODY.
Leah whispered:
“What body?”
Nora looked at her.
“I don’t know.”
The phone vibrated again.
A photograph appeared on the screen.
It showed a basement.
A chair.
Chains hanging from the ceiling.
And a person sitting in the chair.
The face was hidden.
Nora zoomed in.
The person slowly lifted their head.
Nora dropped the phone.
Because she recognized the face.
It was Leah’s mother.
Leah picked up the phone.
Her hands began shaking.
“My mother…”
Nora stared at the photograph.
“She disappeared seven years ago.”
Leah looked at her.
“Then how is she in this picture?”
The photograph changed.
Now it showed the same basement.
But the chair was empty.
And written on the wall were three words:
SHE IS AWAKE.
Leah began crying.
Nora grabbed her hand.
“We’re finding her.”
A voice whispered from behind them:
“You already did.”
They turned.
The little boy was standing there.
He smiled.
Then he pointed at Leah.
And said:
“She’s inside you.”
Leah screamed.
The lights in the entire station went out.
And every phone in the building began ringing at exactly the same time.
2:13 A.M.
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