The first time I got one of the videos, I thought it was a joke.
My phone buzzed in the middle of the night, despite me having Do Not Disturb turned on. When I unlocked it, a video started playing. It was a single, continuous shot that looked like it might be coming from some kind of body camera, and it shifted between normal and night vision a few times during the video as well, primarily when the person wearing the camera started moving across the parking lot.
They were watching a guy putting a heavy-looking messenger bag into the trunk of his car, their raspy breathing the only thing I could hear. I was still half asleep at this point, and I figured my phone had somehow started playing a jump scare video or something. Maybe I’d left a video app open by mistake, or worse, some virus had gotten in and started spamming dumb shit. I really didn’t want the hassle of having to…
The thought died as I saw what was happening on the screen.
The camera had followed this man as he left a nearby office building. Wherever it was, it looked like it was late at night, as his car was one of only three left in the large lot and the nearby road, while several lanes, only had a couple of cars passing by as the video’s view tracked him trudging across the asphalt and opening his trunk to stick in the bag. It was as he was leaning over that they started to move closer, and again, I thought they were going to scare him or spray him with water or something. People did dumb, silly shit on the internet all the time now, and maybe he was their buddy or something.
He must have heard them as they got closer, because he turned around at the last second. The man had enough time to look surprised, and then he was shuddering, the sharp crackle of what sounded like a stun gun firing just out of view. He was already falling to his knees when the crackling stopped and a hand came into view, shoving him back against the bumper of his car. He was trying to flail and resist, but his movements were still too jerky and uncoordinated to offer much defense. A few more seconds and maybe he could have fought back, but he didn’t have a few more seconds. The stun gun had been put away apparently, because when the other hand came became visible again, it was holding a long…well, it looked like a pointed screwdriver, but when I looked it up later, I think it’s called an awl.
They rammed the awl through the man’s neck.
It went in one side, but it took a grunt of effort for it to get pushed all the way through—the metal of it was just long enough for the tip to poke out the other side when it was driven home. The man jerked again, this time a small spray of blood coming from his mouth as his eyes widened slightly. The reaction, the blood, it was all so small. So undramatic. I guess most of the bleeding would have been going on inside, and he was probably in shock, but it was all so understated I…well, I don’t know what I expected. I guess I was in shock too.
The hand left his chest and he began to slump down, but then he was being caught, lifted, and stuffed into the trunk of his own car. His face was slack now, his eyes glassy. He was still waving his arms slightly, but his hands looked like dying moths fluttering against the closing of their last moments. The stalker, the killer, found what they were looking for—the car keys—and closed the trunk.
And with that, the video ended.
My phone immediately went back to its home screen. I tried pulling up recent apps, but there was nothing that would have played that video, and I couldn’t find any trace of it on my phone at all. I thought about calling someone—my brother, the cops, someone—but I wasn’t sure what to say. Surely it was all just some virus or joke. And either way, I had no proof of anything other than my word. People would say I was making it up or that it was a bad dream.
So I turned off my phone, resolving to wipe it the following day and see if I noticed any more strangeness after that. I had an early day and wanted to get back to sleep, but I never could. It irritated me. Probably some viral video for a new horror movie or some dumb shit, and here I was exhausted because of it.
That day at work I even looked online for people complaining about similar ads or pranks or viruses, but nothing seemed to fit. I texted my brother Tom about it, but he said it was probably just some hacker bullshit and that I needed to stop looking at porn so much or get better anti-virus. I did a factory reset on my phone and redownloaded everything, and for the next few days, there were no signs of any problem. Then two weeks later, when I was stuck in afternoon traffic on the way to my parents for the weekend, my phone buzzed beside me. My stomach clenched when I opened the phone.
It was a new video.
This video was set during the day, and whoever was using the camera was walking down a wooded trail somewhere. At first it looked like they were just out for a hike, but as they rounded the next corner, you could hear a woman’s voice whisper “There they are.” A hundred yards ahead, there was a couple hiking the trail too, both of them wearing backpacks and the man carrying a long walking stick.
Even though nothing has happened yet, I already suspect this video is going to be similar to the last one, and like the last one, it’ll end in some possibly real but hopefully simulated act of violence. My first thought is to pause it and go find someone to show it to so I have a witness. But I’m stuck in the middle lane on an interstate at a standstill and I can’t find a way to pause the video anyway.
So instead, I just watch.
The mystery hiker closes ground on the couple, but then suddenly they’re gone, and I have a hopeful moment where I think maybe they’ve gotten away. I think the hiker is worried about it too, as she picks up her pace. When she sees the blue mark on the tree and a small sign marking a side path to a shelter, she lets out a nervous laugh. From there it only takes her a couple of minutes to reach them at the shelter.
She doesn’t waste any time. I can see the handgun in the camera’s peripheral vision, and she makes them both get down on their knees. They try to argue, but when she advances, her voice shaking but hard as she draws near, they hear or see something in her that makes them comply. She tosses down two bundles of what looks like nylon cord and tells the woman to tie the man’s hands behind his back, then tie his ankles, leaving a bit of slack between them and running up to be tied with his hands. Enough slack he can still walk a little, but not too much. When the woman starts crying and saying she can’t do it, the hiker offers a simple choice: Either the woman does it and does it well, or she’ll be shot in the head and the hiker will do it herself.
The woman ties up the man quickly but with great care, and when that’s done, the hiker gives the woman more rope for her own ankles before having her lay on her stomach so her own wrists can be bound behind her. They are both truly caught now—wrists and ankles tied and connected, they are forced to their feet and made to shuffle off into the woods behind the shelter.
They are made to walk at gunpoint for a few minutes until the woods have grown thicker and harder to travel through, and for a moment I wonder if they’re just going to keep going until they leave the woods altogether or set up a camp. But then they reach a small clearing, just a patch of leaves and grass between all the clusters of trees and bushes. The hiker makes them stand against one of the closest trees while she fans out a large blue tarp across the ground.
They look terrified when she tells them to get on the tarp and lay down. I want to scream for them to run, to fight, to do something, because even they should see by now that she’s going to kill them. And there is still some defiance in their eyes, but its swallowed by their fear, or maybe some small, cowardly voice that tells them that if they just go along, it’ll all turn out okay.
The camera shows it all as they die. The hiker kneels on the man’s back and slits his throat, the blood spraying across the tarp as he thrashes for a moment before growing still. The woman screams for several seconds and then starts trying to get up again, maybe to get away, but its too late. The hiker is on her now, bleeding her like she had her friend or husband or whatever he was to her.
When its done, the hiker walks over behind some brush a few yards away. A large, deep hole has been dug here previously, and after inspecting it briefly, she goes to the edge of the tarp and begins tugging it toward the unmarked grave. The work is slow and I can hear her grunts of exertion, but the fallen leaves offer little resistance as the blue plastic slides over them, and in less that five minutes she’s gotten them drug into the hole and pulled the tarp free.
She fills in the grave and then rolls up the tarp and carries it with her. At first she is heading deeper into the woods, and it’s soon clear why. There’s a small, steadily flowing stream here, and she uses the water to rinse off the remaining blood on the tarp before folding it up and stowing it away. The hiker goes back through the trees until she’s back at the shelter. Once she’s there, she takes out the blue tarp and hangs it up, as though to provide a partial wall on the open side of the structure. I think she’s preparing the spot to stay there for awhile, but no. Once the tarp is secure, she turns and walks back to the trail, and a moment later, the video ends.
Watching the entire thing took close to thirty minutes, and in that time I had slowly inched up a mile toward the three car accident that had shut down three of the four lanes on my side of the interstate. I could see the emergency lights—another few minutes and I’d be past the bottleneck. I could even try to get the attention of one of the cops at the crash, but I might be better just going to a police station and showing them…
It was gone again. The fucking video was just gone. No sign of what app had played it or how, no sign of how to get it back. Maybe if I took my phone to the cops they could figure out a way of recovering or tracing where it came from, but I was doubtful. And I was even more doubtful anyone would listen to me without some proof of the weird shit I was claiming to have seen.
When the next exit came, I stayed on the interstate. I was worried now. Worried and scared I was getting pulled into something real and dangerous. But wasn’t it still just as likely it was all fake? I had no real way of knowing anyone was being hurt or killed, did I? It wasn’t like I knew these people or where they were and could check.
And that was all true.
At least until I got the next video.
This time it was night again, close to midnight and five days after the freeway video. My phone jumped as I was brushing my teeth, and when I picked it up, I saw the camera’s point of view, though it was partially obstructed on both sides. I realized after a moment this was because the camera, and the killer, were hiding in a closet with the door cracked. Looking closer at what lay beyond the door, I realized something else.
I recognized the room they were in.
I’d dated Carol Leeves for four years before she broke up with me last summer. She’d been my first serious girlfriend after college, and I’d been convinced she was the one. I was saving up for an engagement ring when she came over and told me she was done. No big fight, no reasons given, just that she wasn’t happy anymore and she didn’t want to be with me any longer.
It…It was hard on me. I wondered if she had been cheating on me, but there was no sign she had. I tried to get her back, groveled even, but all it did was make me more distasteful to her and make me hate myself even more than I already did. I turned bitter and angry, withdrawing from everyone and everything for over a month before my brother finally came over and talked to me about it.
“You’re being an asshole.”
I’d glared at him. “Wasn’t asking your opinion, but thanks anyway.”
Tom rolled his eyes as he shook his head. “Look, dumbass. I love you. And I know Carol dumping you sucks. But it happens, okay? You’re not entitled to be with someone just because that’s what you want or because it’s convenient for you. She has to look out for herself and her own happiness. And from what you’ve told me, she hasn’t done anything wrong.”
I grimaced at him. “She’s a fucking bitch.”
My brother’s expression hardened slightly. “So you’ve said. Repeatedly. She betrayed you. She’ll get what she deserves. I’ve heard all that shit.” He stabbed a finger in my direction. “And I’m tired of it. You’re not a victim. And she’s not some villain or whatever. So get your shit together, quit whining, and stop being an asshole, okay? The only one you’re hurting is yourself.”
He’d been right, of course. I knew I’d been hard to be around, and worse, I knew I’d treated Carol worse than she deserved. I tried to apologize a year ago through text, but I never heard back and decided to leave well enough alone. Now I was seeing her living room through the lens of a killer’s camera.
This couldn’t be real, could it? Maybe she was behind all of it, paying me back for being such a dick last year. It didn’t seem like something she’d do, but maybe…
My breath caught as I saw her walk into the room on the video.
I hadn’t seen Carol in months, but it was undeniably her. She was in those pajamas like she wore a lot at night, and as I watched in horror, she settled down onto the couch to watch t.v. I felt a small twinge of that familiar pain and anger at seeing her, but it was nothing compared to my fear. I needed to call her and see if she was okay.
I couldn’t make my phone close the video, but I finally managed to use a voice command to make a call to her. A second after I faintly heard it start to ring, I saw Carol reach for her phone on the video. My throat grew thick and tight. Oh God. This was all happening live.
“Josh?”
I was watching the video and couldn’t turn on the speakerphone, so her voice was muted, but still clear enough that I could hear the tension in her voice. “Carol, there’s someone in there with you. Please, this isn’t me fucking with you. Get out and call 911. Please, I’m…”
“Josh? Are you there?”
On the video she pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it with a frown. She couldn’t hear me. Why couldn’t she hear me? I went to say something else when the video changed. The closet door was pushed wider and the camera…the killer…began to ease out and behind the sofa where Carol sat. If she hadn’t been so focused on her phone, she might have noticed the movement, but as it was, there was no sign of her hearing me or detecting the person creeping up behind her.
Tears came to my eyes as I screamed and screamed for her to turn around, to run. Before she did either, a plastic bag was suddenly yanked down over her head and pulled tight around her neck. I thought they were going to suffocate her, but that’s when the hammer started striking her head through the bag. Her arms and legs jolted at the first blow, but by the third she was lifeless.
“Oh, God. Oh you fuckers! Oh you motherfuckers! Call 911!”
Remembering I didn’t say the trigger words for voice commands, I tried again to call 911. No response. On the video, Carol was being drug through the house and out the back door. This wasn’t working, and I didn’t have a landline. It was a thirty minute drive, but I’d have to head over there myself. Maybe I could still help her, or at least catch the sick freak behind it. I grabbed up my keys and was heading toward the door when my phone buzzed in my hand. Looking down, I saw she was now being loaded into the back of an SUV with the license plate covered up, but only part of the scene was visible. The rest was covered by a message from an app I’d never heard of before.
Welcome to the Kryptic Messenger app. Congratulations! You have been selected for this beta test after a thorough automated and human review of your online persona and activity. Throughout the last few weeks, you’ve received several different videos. We’ve watched you view them through your front-facing camera and are glad to see they’ve had an impact.
Blood in my ears, I tapped on the screen and the message changed.
As you may have guessed, all of these videos are authentic and are live-streamed to you via our application. This latest video is unique, of course, in the fact that it is someone you actually know. We hope that you enjoyed watching what’s going on with CAROL JOANN LEEVES as much as we did!
If you attempted to utilize your device for contacting the victim or the authorities during this video, you’ll have noticed that your ability to communicate is currently very limited. If you tried to record these videos, you no doubt noticed that the video will not display while another electronic device is visible to your primary device’s cameras. If you are very clever and naughty, you may have tried using a hidden camera to fool our app into letting the video be recorded. Feel free to check that recording. Thanks to our proprietary random sequence frequency modulation, you’ll see that unauthorized recordings of our broadcasts are not discernable upon playback. Similarly, a forensic analysis of your device will not reveal the presence of this app, the videos, or any other “malware”, as our backdoors allow quick and easy download and deletion at the times we feel are optimal for your isolated viewing pleasure.
My hands were shaking badly as I tapped the screen again.
All of this is interesting, but it’s just the technical foundation for a much more significant innovation we’re very proud of: Crowdsourced murder.
The people that ended lives in the videos you’ve seen? All different people in different places, and more importantly, they are all viewers just like you! We select our audience very carefully, looking for markers in your personality, interactions, and activities to decide if you’re right for our program. When selected, a viewer is provided with several live streams of others “doing the deed”. The last of these will be of someone that is connected to the viewer themselves—someone that, based on our data, they would likely either want dead or would be very heavily suspected if they were found violently killed.
“This is bullshit. I never…”
The screen flickered and a new series of images popped up. It was a series of screenshots of text messages and emails I had sent to Carol in the weeks after she broke up with me and rejected my attempts at reconciliation.
I know you’re cheating on me, you fucking bitch.
It was all a lie from the start, wasn’t it?
You’re going to pay for this.
I hope you die.
Shuddering, I had to fight from throwing the phone across the room. I wasn’t sure if they could hear me or not, but I started yelling into the phone anyway. “I didn’t mean it! I was mad and…hurt…and I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want you fuckers to kill her!”
The screen flashed again and another message appeared.
You’re likely denying you wished her any real harm right now. Perhaps we don’t know you as well as we think we do. ;) Or maybe you’re just not very honest with yourself. At this point, it’s irrelevant. You have two choices: Resist or Comply.
Resistance can take many forms. You’re welcome to go to the authorities. Tell family and friends. Go on a personal crusade to find us and “take us down” yourself. Resistance in any form will end in the same set of consequences:
First, an anonymous tip will be sent to local authorities that a person roughly matching your description was seen at CAROL JOANN LEEVES last living location around the time she was killed. Rest assured, this tip will be sent after enough time has passed to ensure the time of death cannot be narrowed sufficiently to give you an alibi even if you are sitting outside a police station right now. Evidence will later be found of your past unpleasantness with the deceased. This will be followed by law enforcement becoming aware of a dead body that’s been found matching their victim’s description. A body with your DNA on it.
They will never have proof of what really happened. If they check your phone, all they will find is more proof that you did the killing. If they track your GPS location, they’ll find you were at the site of the killing and then at the site of the body disposal, just like everything else tells them you would be.
You will spend the rest of your life hated, alone, and afraid.
Compliance only has one form. You do not tell anyone about this. If you hear that someone you know has gone missing, you act surprised and sympathetic but do not get further involved. You keep your phone with you, and in the next few weeks you’ll receive another set of messages.
These messages will give you the person you are to kill. Where they are, how to kill them, and how and where to dispose of their body. Just like the person that murdered CAROL JOANN LEEVES, you will be wholly unrelated to your victim, and so long as you are not caught in the act and follow the provided instructions, you will never be looked at in connection with their disappearance.
This may seem unfair or cruel. It is. And that is also irrelevant.
What is relevant is that this is real and it is happening now. You are deciding now. Your decision either way will not bring back anyone from death or impact our progress in any way. We will be going forward to a full product launch in the future, but we do value the data your responses provide.
In the end, the choice is yours. Resist or Comply.
You have fifteen seconds.
The last message faded away to be replace by two large buttons: “Resistance” and “Compliance”. Above it, a timer was already at thirteen.
This was insane. I couldn’t go along with it, could I? Kill an innocent person for no reason?
10…9…
I paused as a new thought struck me. But there was a reason wasn’t there? They had hurt someone or made someone else mad, and maybe they were a bad person. Still, to kill someone else just to…
…6…5…
…just to save my life. It was…it was like self-defense really. I was protecting myself by taking a life. And it wasn’t my fault that I’d been targeted by these…
…2…
Eyes widening, I tapped frantically at the screen, terrified it wouldn’t register my input in time. Oh God, please let it have gotten it in time.
Thank you for your compliance. Be seeing you.
The screen went dark, turning the black surface into a midnight mirror where I saw myself. Eyes wide, nostrils flared, I looked scared…crazy even…but that wasn’t the part that bothered me so much. It was that moment, brief but indelible, before I realized I could see myself. A moment where I caught a glimpse of me as I really am.
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