The camera whips around. Sarah isn't looking at the sky. She’s looking at the pavement. In the green neon light, their shadows aren't pointing away from the gas station lamps. They are pointing toward the white rift in the sky, stretching out like long, dark fingers trying to reach the light.

Elias pans back to the sedan. The car is empty, but the windshield wipers are suddenly frantic, scrubbing dry glass. The radio kicks in, blasting a distorted loop of a weather report from June 19, .

"It’s happening again," a second voice says from off-camera—Sarah, his sister. She sounds exhausted, like someone who has seen the end of the world three times already that week.

"We have to go," Elias says, but he doesn't move. He can't. The video ends abruptly when a gloved hand reaches from the backseat of the empty sedan and taps on the window.

The file was found on a discarded SD card in the middle of the Mojave Desert three years later. The silver sedan was never found, and the gas station had been out of business since 1992.