Video clip. October 21, 08:15 A.M. Dead end:
The video starts midsprint, the entire screen jittering as the camera operator runs forward. Judging by the quality of the clip, the camera is a fairly cheap consumer model—strictly low-def. The color is muted and washed out. The audio is inconsistent, distorting in the upper registers.
The first couple of seconds take place outdoors, at the edge of a field. The ground is covered in snow, and the trees—swinging into view as the camera sways back and forth—are wreathed in a thin layer of frost.
The camera steadies long enough to show a hunched figure disappearing through an opening in the side of a hill. The opening is a rough mouth dug into the dirt, and the figure has to bend down to make it through. The camera follows in pursuit, heading toward the hole.
The volume is cranked up loud, and the operator’s breath rasps like a steam engine. Footfalls crunch through the thin layer of snow.
The camera swings to the side, revealing a disheveled young man, also in pursuit. This man pulls to a stop at the dark opening, directly in front of the camera. He lights a flashlight, then darts inside.
THE MAN’S VOICE—A DEAFENING, FRANTIC HISS: Mac!
The video is swallowed in darkness. There is an occasional blinding burst of light as the flashlight beam swings into view, but it does little to illuminate the scene. The squelch of muddy footsteps and the loud rasp of breath drown out all other sound.
THE MAN’S VOICE AGAIN: Mac!
The video jolts suddenly, and the tape hitches, sending up a single line of static. There is an inaudible curse from behind the camera, and this is greeted with a loud shhhhh! For a brief handful of seconds, the camera is relatively still, showing the dark earthen walls as the flashlight pans back and forth.
There are three open tunnels here, leading into the darkness ahead.
THE CAMERA OPERATOR’S VOICE, DEAFENINGLY LOUD: What the fuck is this?… (Followed by an unintelligible, breathless rush of words.)
The man with the flashlight sprints into the middle tunnel, and the camera follows. Fifteen seconds pass, filled with panting breath, loud footsteps, and momentary bursts of light. Then the man with the flashlight slows to a stop. The camera pans around him, revealing another man kneeling at a dead-end wall. His ear is pressed into the dirt, and his hands are splayed at his side. Tears streak his muddy face. His mouth is moving even before he starts to speak.
THE KNEELING MAN, IN A DISTORTED WHISPER: (Unintelligible)… her singing?
All three people freeze like statues, holding their breath. The camera catches the kneeling man as he closes his eyes and pushes his face deeper into the mud.
After a couple of seconds, a bare hint of noise swells up above the background hiss of videotape and speaker distortion. It is a melodic, wordless whisper, muffled and muddy, without place or direction.
It is sweet and warbling. And it is a long, long way away.