#camfee-talks

[Audio initializes with crystalline clarity — quality inconsistent with standard microphone placement. Ambient sound suggests proximity to subject's ear.]

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[Subject Anthony ████ is audible, muttering. Speech is incoherent, fragmented. Breathing is rapid and shallow.]

[Anthony ████]: "No.. I have to run, I have to get away. You were right, I knew you were right, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry..."

[Footsteps audible. Subject is in motion. Road noise — passing vehicles — indicates proximity to a thoroughfare. Footsteps continue for approximately 90 seconds before transitioning to softer ground cover and wind rustling through vegetation. Park environment confirmed.]

[A second person becomes audible — rapid approach, footsteps on concrete.]

[Opal]: "I— holy crap, dude, what happened to your hand?! Are you okay?! Okay that's— that's a good amount of blood."

[Subject's audio shifts — fabric rustling, suggesting a change in head position.]

[Anthony ████]: "I'm. I'm okay, it's just— I'm— It's okay, I—"

[Subject's voice is unstable. Breathing remains elevated.]

[Anthony ████]: "I'm fine, don't— mmmh, don't come near me please don't touch me—.."

[Opal]: "Okay, ok. I won't—… here, come with me, okay? We'll sit on the bench and i'll show you how to get your hand all fixed."

[Sounds of movement. Subject sits down audibly — weight distribution on a metal bench. Wind noise increases.]

[Anthony ████]: "They're not going to hurt me, stop stop stop stop—"

[Rapid hair rustling audible — subject shaking head. Speech becomes increasingly disorganized.]

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[Opal]: "I'm A… uh, Opal. What's your name, hun? I'll show you to get your hand all patched up, like i said."

[Anthony ████]: "It's— ow... It's um, it's Anthony, um, nice to meet you? I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry..-"

[Audible rocking sound — subject's body in repetitive motion. Fabric and hair shift continuously. Apologetic muttering continues underneath dialogue.]

[Opal]: "Nice to meet you too, Anthony. Do you wanna try calming down before we do this so you don't hurt yourself more?"

[Anthony ████]: "I'm not.. Hurting myself, I had to run, he was going to hate me and I had to run I had to get away from him—"

[Sharp intake of breath audible.]

[Anthony ████]: "'m calm. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.. I won't hurt you, She— She can't control me, I promise I won't—"

[Subject's vocalization becomes indistinguishable from crying.]

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[Opal]: "Okay, okay. I believe you, don't worry."

[Metal surface — thunk. Consistent with a bag being placed on the bench.]

[Opal]: "Heres a small first aid kit. Do you know how to fix up your hand or do you need help?"

[Anthony ████]: "I can.. I can do it myself.."

[Subject takes another unsteady breath. A click — first aid kit opening. Rustling of bandaging materials, gauze, medical supplies.]

[Dull sound of an object dropped on metal.]

[Opal]: "Ok, Anthony? I think I'm gonna need to dress your wounds, if that's okay. If it makes you feel more comfortable, I can explain everything I do while I do it."

[Anthony ████]: "Yes— Yes please, I can't— I'm sorry, it's just for a little, they won't touch me for long, I'm sorry I'm sorry—"

[Opal]: "Alright, hold your hand out to me, please."

[Fabric shifts. Subject complies. Audio quality shifts slightly — microphone angle changing as Anthony extends his hand.]

[Scraping sound audible.]

[Opal]: "Ok, since we don't have a running faucet here, I'm just gonna put some water on your wound to clean it a bit. I promise I haven't drank from this, and it's a clean bottle. Is that ok?"

[Anthony ████]: "Y—yeah, um, it's alright. She doesn't like you touching me but, I— I don't mind, really.."

[Opal]: "I'm sorry, whoever…She is. I promise I have no ill intentions."

[Fabric rustling. Water splashes — slow, controlled application.]

[Opal]: "Ok, that step is done. I think I have a washcloth in here, hold on…"

[More rustling from a bag. Extended pause — approximately 15 seconds of ambient park sounds.]

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[Opal]: "Okay, there we go!"

[A small laugh from Opal — seemingly triumphant. Washcloth removal sound. Additional water splashing.]

[Opal]: "Ok, i wet one side of the wash cloth to be able to dab at your wound, and the other side so i can pat it dry. Is that okay?"

[Anthony ████]: "Y—yeah, I um, I think that works.."

[Opal]: "Ok, thank you."

[Ambient sound dominates — wind through trees, occasional rustling. Subject makes small sounds — hisses of pain, followed by quiet apologies. This continues for approximately 30 seconds.]

[Opal]: "Aaaand there we go, all dry! Not bleeding either, so i can dress the wound now, that ok? I'll just put some polysporin on it and then some bandaids. They're big ones, don't worry."

[Anthony ████]: "O—okay. They're.. they're helping us, stop— please, stop.."

[Subject vocalizes something between a sob and a whimper.]

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[Medical sounds — bandaging application, polysporin container opening and closing. Subject remains silent during this process. Opal occasionally hums. Approximately one minute passes. Opal sits back audibly — weight shift on metal bench.]

[Opal]: "Well, not my best work, but.. there you go, Anthony! Want me to keep you company until you're good to go?"

[Anthony ████]: "Y—yes please. I promise I won't.. hurt you, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.."

[Opal]: "Don't apologize, i don't mind. I trust you enough, too."

[Wind noise. Ambient park sounds. Both subjects remain seated. No further dialogue for approximately 3 minutes.]

[New audio source detected — environmental, not subject-proximal. Sound quality degraded. Footsteps audible — rapid approach. Heavy breathing. Subject identified as Camfee Turing based on subsequent dialogue.]

[Breathing heavily, inaudible muttering — content unclear. Footsteps decelerate abruptly.]

[Camfee Turing]: "What the fuck did you do?"

[Opal]: "I— what?! Wh— i— what do you mean?? I'm just sitting here? I— i helped him, but that's it?"

[Opal's speech is rapid, fragmented. Her breathing accelerates.]

[Camfee Turing]: "She doesn't look like she's gotten any fucking help!"

[Sound of contact — Camfee's hand releasing Opal's shirt. A step backward. Audible joint cracking — consistent with a fist being clenched and rotated in preparation for impact.]

[Anthony ████]: "I— I— I—"

[Subject's breathing becomes labored, panicked.]

[Anthony ████]: "No no no— I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry.."

[Subject curls inward — rustling of fabric, knees drawn up, face presumably pressed against knees.]

[Sound of impact — knuckles against bone and tissue. Camfee's right hook connecting with Opal's face. The crack is audible.]

[Opal's vocalization is immediate — a near-scream, staggered and raw. She falls. Camfee steps away, swearing continuously, shaking out his right hand.]

[Opal]: [voice strained] "I— sir? Is— is your hand okay? I promise you i— i was just—"

[A whimper of pain. Sounds of swallowing — blood, presumed.]

[Opal]: "I was just helping him with— with his hand, i promise."

[Camfee Turing]: [breathing hard] "You— but he's freaking the fuck out. He was bleeding. Scared."

[A beat. Wind. Park ambience.]

[Opal]: "I— look— his hand, i— i did that. Not— not the injury, but the bandaids. I don't— i don't have much on me, but i tried helping. I'm— i'm a nurse at Ness Anne Hospital, i was—"

[Opal's voice breaks. She appears to be backing away.]

[Opal]: "I was just trying to help, i— i'm so sorry.. i didn't mean to hurt you or— or him."

[Camfee Turing]: [hands raised — audible fabric shift as arms move defensively] "Shit, I'm sorry, I— shit, dude. Your face. Do you need help up?"

[A pause. Camfee does not immediately approach.]

[Camfee Turing]: "I— I believe you. Fucking hell, I'm sorry. Shit."

[Opal]: "I— no, no it's— it's uhm, okay. I've dealt with worse at my job, don't worry about me. Is your— your hand, is it okay?"

[Opal stands — wobbling slightly — and immediately sits back down on the bench. Her breathing is shaky and heavy.]

[Camfee Turing]: [taking another step back, voice softer] "Don't— don't worry about my hand. I'm not the one who just got socked in the face by the ex-football player. Are you sure you're okay?"

[Opal]: "I'll— i'll be fine. It's probably just— just a concussion, i— i don't know, god…"

[Opal's voice fractures. Crying becomes audible — she is actively weeping.]

[Opal]: "Just— please, go to the hospital for your friends hand and yours. You— uhm, can probably find me, since i'm an ER nurse. If— if you need anything. If— i can just— i'll leave if you need me to."

[Camfee Turing]: "You— no, you aren't leaving. Seriously. I'm going to walk up to you, I'm done throwing punches. I promise."

[Footsteps — deliberate, slow approach. Camfee kneels. Audio suggests he is positioning himself in front of Opal, at a distance.]

[Camfee Turing]: "I don't think your jaw is broken or anything... missing any teeth?"

[Opal]: "No, uhm— i don't? think so, at least? I just— god, i'm sorry. I just wanted to try and help."

[Opal removes her hand from her face — fabric shifting. She hugs herself. A sniffle. Her voice contains a small, fragile attempt at reassurance.]

[Opal]: "I appreciate the help, at least.. outside of punching me, i'm sure you're very nice. I— you care about him a lot, it's obvious."

[A vague gesture — Opal gesturing toward Anthony's location.]

[A long pause.]

[Camfee Turing]: "She's a good guy. I trust him. I've got a temper."

[Camfee Turing]: "...Obviously. But... I really do hope he's okay."

[Camfee clears his throat — attempting to shift away from sincerity.]

[Camfee Turing]: "Aight. Try and follow this with your eyes."

[Opal complies — occasional head movement as her eyes lose sync with her gaze direction before correcting.]

[Camfee Turing]: "I know you're the nurse, but as the asshole who hit you. Uh… I think you should see a doctor."

[Opal produces a small laugh — shaking her head audibly.]

[Opal]: "I'll go to the doctors tomorrow, don't worry. I figured i probably had a concussion."

[Camfee Turing]: "If you say so…"

[Camfee's attention shifts. A pause — the sound of him turning, refocusing on Anthony.]

[Audio quality shifts slightly as Camfee moves toward the subject.]

[Camfee Turing]: "Hey, it's okay, Anty. I'm here. Can I come over to ya?"

[Opal stands — slight wobble audible. She walks away from the bench. Footsteps fade into ambient park noise.]

[Fabric rustling — Camfee approaching Anthony. Subject remains non-verbal.]

[FOOTAGE FROM - DASHCAM US-DMS-#MA-0042-CRUISER]

[All four subjects have boarded the vehicle. View is forward-facing — dark road, high beams still active. Audio quality is poor, consistent with a standard dashcam microphone. Wind noise present from a partially open window, which closes shortly after recording resumes.]

[Overlapping movement and voice as subjects settle. Seatbelts audible in succession.]

[Anthony ████]: "No, you need to— hold on." [Shuffling. A seatbelt clicks.] "This way they won't jostle. Because— their head. You'll have to hold them, okay?"

[Further movement. Additional seatbelts. A long exhale — likely the driver — followed by a dull sound consistent with a forehead against a steering wheel.]

[The car starts. Anthony ████ is presumably driving.]

[Anthony ████]: "Okay. Okay. So— who are you two? How do you, um, know the DMS?" [Brief pause as the car pulls onto the road.] "Since, you know, they're— they're like, undercover and all."

[Silence from the backseat for a moment.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Um.." [Another pause.] "It's… hard to explain, really. The best I've come to explaining it is— okay. Have you ever gotten sprayed in the face by a water gun?"

[Anthony ████]: "Not.. exactly. I didn't— talk to other kids, or play with them."

[Camfee Turing]: "...what the fuck does a water gun have to do with the Department of Metaphysical Sciences?"

[█████ Bishop]: "I— okay, that's— not the best example. It's fine, I can explain this." [A sharp breath.] "Okay. So. Imagine being punched in the face. Except the punch is actually— a lot of information. A database full of information. The DMS database, specifically."

[█████ Bishop]: "I learned everything about them in less than a second. And I really wish I hadn't."

[A pause. Leather creaking — consistent with a tightened grip on the steering wheel.]

[Anthony ████]: "...That's how you knew my name. Because—" [His voice drops.] "...you know about Her?"

[The last word is barely audible over the road noise. His breathing has become perceptible on the mic.]

[Camfee Turing]: "Wait." [The earlier ease in his voice is gone.] "You know everything in their database. All of it."

[█████ Bishop]: "Well— not exactly. I technically know everything, but there are no— connections. I know Anthony is Anthony, but I don't know why he's in the DMS files, only that he isn't one of Them. I know everything and nothing at the same time."

[Anthony's breathing is now clearly audible. Elevated, rapid. The cruiser drifts slightly — corrects.]

[Anthony ████]: "What— what do you know about me. Tell me. Please. You can't know, you can't—"

[His voice breaks on the last word. He appears to be speaking under his breath to someone — content inaudible, not directed at anyone in the vehicle. The car steadies.]

[Camfee Turing]: "...Anthony." [A pause. The sound of movement — fabric shifting, brief contact.] "Anthony, you need to focus on the road. Come on. It's okay." [Another pause.] "Alright? We can sort this out once we aren't in the getaway car."

[The car steadies further. Anthony's breathing slows, still audible but less elevated.]

[Anthony ████]: "Okay. Yes." [His voice is still unsteady, controlled with visible effort.] "Okay. Where— um, what's your name?" 

[The question appears to be directed at Bishop.]

[█████ Bishop]: "I'm— wait, I didn't say already..? Um. I'm Bishop. At least, everyone calls me that now."

[Camfee Turing]: "Weird name, but sure. I'm Camfee. Turing. I don't particularly care if anyone knows that — I think my sister already put it on the internet."

[A pause from the backseat.]

[█████ Bishop]: "...Camfee. You have a sister, right? Ellen Turing?"

[A sharp intake of breath from the front passenger seat.]

[Camfee Turing]: "...yeah." [A slow exhale.] "Yeah. Ellen's my sister. We were together when she was—" [He stops.] "God. I don't want to talk about it."

[Silence settles over the car. Road noise. Wind. The high beams cutting ahead into nothing in particular.]

[Movement from the backseat. A short, startled sound from Bishop.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Oh my god— Rook? Hey, hey— Rook, look at me, please—"

[█████ "Rook" ███████]: "Uugh… Bee..?"

[Anthony ████]: "Shit— don't let them sit up, it'll make them nauseous."

[Camfee Turing]: "When I was urbexing, someone fell through rusted metal and hit their head on concrete. He was fine, obviously, but he threw up a lot. So. Probably keep laying down."

[Shuffling from the backseat. Several quiet, overlapping apologies.]

[█████ "Rook" ███████]: "Bee..? Where's your— eye thingies..?"

[█████ Bishop]: "Uh—" [A long pause.] "Just stay laying down for now, okay? I'm fine. We have contacts back at your place, remember? We'll just go there…"

[Bishop trails off.]

[Anthony ████]: "Try to keep them talking. Can they understand you? Can they raise their arm? Is there any visible bleeding — laceration, anything that needs immediate attention outside of the concussion? They can't fall back asleep, that would— that wouldn't be good. We need to keep them awake."

[█████ Bishop]: "No— nothing I can see—"

[█████ "Rook" ███████]: "'S-so loud… why does it hurt…?"

[█████ Bishop]: [Quieter, directed at Rook.] "Hey, hey. It's okay. We're sorry. Just keep talking, alright? It's gonna be okay."

[Road noise. The cruiser continues forward. No further conversation, as the group likely quiets to avoid causing further pain to Rook’s concussion via noise.]

[END OF NOTEWORTHY AUDIO & VIDEO]

[FOOTAGE FROM - DASHCAM US-DMS-#MA-0042-CRUISER]

[Footage begins mid-transit. Road is dark, headlights illuminating roughly 40 feet of asphalt ahead. Low conversation audible between the two occupants, consistent with subjects Camfee Turing and Anthony ████. Content largely inaudible at this stage.]

[At approximately the 23-minute mark, a civilian vehicle becomes visible ahead — a silver Toyota Camry, notable rear bumper damage on the passenger side, consistent with a prior collision. Vehicle is traveling within the lane.]

[The Camry accelerates. Gap between vehicles widens. Conversation in the cruiser drops off. Driver activates high beams.]

༺═────────────────────────────────────────═༻

[FOOTAGE FROM - DASHCAM █████ ███████]

[Footage begins with an interior view of the Camry. Subject █████ ███████, known as Rook, is in the driver's seat. Light eyebags visible. Posture relaxed. Music audible from the car speakers. Subject identified as █████ Bishop occupies the passenger seat, scrolling on a phone.]

[Several minutes pass without incident.]

[Bishop looks up toward the rearview mirror and goes still. Rook does not immediately react.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Hey, Rook—"

[Rook glances toward the passenger seat.]

[█████ "Rook" ███████]: "What's up, Bee?"

[Bishop does not respond. Gaze remains fixed on the rearview mirror. Rook follows their line of sight. Rook's posture stiffens.]

[█████ "Rook" ███████]: "...Fuck."

[Rook's grip on the steering wheel tightens visibly. Bishop has set the phone down and is alternating between watching the mirror and watching Rook. Typing sounds audible — phone picked back up briefly.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Rook—!"

[█████ "Rook" ███████]: "I know, I know, I see them."

[An audible breath from Rook — controlled, but unsteady. Rook turns briefly toward Bishop, who has drawn their knees up slightly in the seat.]

[█████ "Rook" ███████]: "We're gonna get out of this, Bee. Remember, I told you that I'm staying with you, yeah?"

[Bishop nods. The cruiser's high beams activate behind them, visible in the mirror. Bishop's composure visibly deteriorates — a short, involuntary sound, reaching toward Rook's hand before pulling back. Rook's attention drifts from the road in increasing intervals.]

[█████ "Rook" ███████]: "We're going to be okay, alright? It's gonna be okay, and we'll make it back to Maine, okay?"

[Rook continues talking — tone shifts, becoming less directed at Bishop. Hands tighten further on the wheel.]

[An animal — likely a coyote based on size — moves into the road ahead of the vehicle.]

[█████ Bishop]: "FUCK, WATCH OUT—!"

[Rook reacts. Sharp swerve to the right. Tires audible on asphalt — skidding — traction lost.]

[█████ "Rook" ███████]: "SHIT—!"

༺═────────────────────────────────────────═༻

[FOOTAGE FROM - DASHCAM US-DMS-#MA-0042-CRUISER]

[Anthony ████]: "What the fuck are they doing..?"

[Voice is low, rough. Passenger-side movement audible.]

[Camfee Turing]: "They almost hit a coyote, calm down. They'll straighten out."

[The Camry swerves abruptly right, clears the animal, and loses control. Vehicle leaves the road and impacts nose-first into the roadside ditch. Rear wheels leave the ground briefly. The cruiser passes the crash site — brakes applied hard, vehicle stops.]

[Anthony ████]: "Oh, fuck—"

[Camfee Turing]: "Holy shit, what the hell—"

[Seatbelts disengage. Both doors open. Wind audible on the mic. Footsteps on asphalt, moving away from the vehicle and out of frame.]

[FOOTAGE FROM - DASHCAM █████ ███████]

[Camera view is obstructed — likely by the deployed airbag or displaced dash material. Heavy breathing audible. Several seconds pass before the obstruction shifts and the interior becomes visible again.]

[Bishop is in the passenger seat, turned toward Rook. Glasses are gone. Bishop is shaking Rook's shoulder.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Fuck— ow… Rook..? Rook? Hey, talk to me—!"

[Rook does not respond verbally. A low groan is audible. Rook appears semi-conscious — eyes partially open, unfocused.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Oh thank god, you're alive.."

[Bishop unbuckles their own seatbelt, then Rook's. Begins attempting to assess Rook's condition, speaking quietly — content not clearly audible. Movement stops abruptly.]

[Through the cracked windshield, the cruiser's brake lights are visible, stopped ahead on the road. Two figures are approaching on foot.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Oh, no.. no, no no no—!"

[The figures become clearer as they near. One is tall and broad-shouldered, jaw-length curly hair, wearing what appear to be medical scrubs. The other is also tall, long hair with lighter ends, wearing a hoodie over what appears to be a hospital gown.]

[Bishop's breathing becomes audible and rapid. They move, hitting their head on the roof of the car in the process, and get partially out through the passenger-side window, putting themselves between the approaching figures and Rook.]

[The figure in scrubs — later identified as Anthony ████ — moves around to the passenger side of the Camry. A loud impact sound follows, consistent with debris or a stuck door being forcibly cleared. The car shudders. The passenger door opens. Anthony leans in.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Hey— STAY AWAY!!"

[Anthony ████]: "Stay still, let me see if you have any— um, broken bones." [Pause. He looks toward Rook.] "That one might be concussed. I need a, uh. Pen light, or— or a flashlight, to check their eyes."

[Bishop has not moved. They remain positioned between Anthony and Rook, visibly assessing whether to comply or fight. The second figure — Camfee Turing — catches Anthony's arm.]

[Camfee Turing]: "Stop, stop, back up. They're clearly panicking, stop it."

[Anthony steps back, frowning. His attention stays on Rook.]

[Anthony ████]: "They're hurt. I have to help them." [He reaches forwards again.]

[Bishop swings. Contact is made — Anthony stumbles back into Camfee, hand going to his face. He steps out of frame. An audible sound from Anthony, difficult to characterize — distress, possibly disorientation. He appears to be speaking, but not to anyone visible.]

[Camfee raises both hands and backs away as well.]

[Camfee Turing]: "It's— it'll be okay, we're just trying to help. We didn't mean to scare you."

[Bishop has straightened up. Still breathing hard, but posture has shifted — less defensive, more aggressive. They place themselves fully between the two strangers and the driver's side of the car.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Help my ass— if you want to help, leave us alone! We're not going to be taken by you agents!!"

[Camfee's expression shifts — something harder coming through briefly before he speaks.]

[Camfee Turing]: "Agents? Like—" [He glances back toward the road, where the DMS cruiser is parked.] "Oh, no— no, we aren't DMS, we stole their car. We ran away from one of their facilities." [Speaking quickly.] "I swear— look at Anthony, he's wearing a hospital gown. We aren't agents, we just want to help."

[Bishop is quiet for a moment. They look at the ground. Their breathing slows slightly.]

[█████ Bishop]: "...Gray. Gray, that's your last name, isn't it."

[Bishop's gaze moves to Anthony, still at the edge of frame.]

[█████ Bishop]: "You're Anthony Gray. You're not one of them."

[Anthony steps back into frame. His expression is difficult to read, but he looks scared.]

[Anthony ████]: "...How do you know my name?"

[Voice is barely above a whisper. He shakes his head once, sharply. Blinks several times in rapid succession. His gaze moves to the windshield of the Camry rather than to Bishop. Bishop looks away.]

[█████ Bishop]: "It's a long story—"

[They stop, as if remembering something. Turn back toward the interior of the car.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Fuck— no, no no no, I'm sorry, I forgot—! Rook, please, you're gonna be okay…"

[Camfee Turing]: "Hey." [Louder, directed at both.] "I need both of you to calm down right now. Don't move them until we get a better look. Rook, you said?"

[Camfee moves around to the driver's side of the Camry and checks the door before opening it.]

[Bishop has stopped reaching for Rook. Their hands are shaking. They are still watching Camfee.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Oh, god, I'm so sorry, Rook, I— I never should've asked you to meet me.. please, please still be alive—"

[They reach back and grab the back of their neck sharply, expression tightening.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Ah… dammit.."

[Camfee leans into the driver's side to examine Rook. He checks both arms, both legs — squeezing, feeling for obvious fractures. He pinches Rook's cheek, hard. A faint facial response, but Rook does not regain awareness.]

[Camfee Turing]: "Reflexes are present. Brain isn't completely fried. At least not entirely."

[Anthony moves toward Bishop. He reaches out slowly, tilts Bishop's head forward by the back of the neck, and examines the area. His hands are steady.]

[Anthony ████]: "Does your neck hurt? You might have— um, whiplash, from the collision."

[Bishop flinches at initial contact, pulling back slightly. They allow the examination to continue, watching Rook from the corner of their eye. A sharp intake of breath as Anthony adjusts the angle.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Ow— hey—"

[Anthony ████]: "There's definitely some kind of injury. Um— I would say we should see a doctor, but that—"

[Anthony pauses. His eyes lose focus for a moment. He appears to be listening to something. He blinks.]

[Anthony ████]: "Right. Not an option, they might turn us in."

[Camfee Turing]: "So what do we do? We can't just ignore a neck injury."

[Anthony ████]: "...can we?"

[Bishop has gone quiet, watching Anthony's momentary lapse. They say nothing, and turn back to Rook.]

[█████ Bishop]: "C'mon, Rook…"

[Anthony ████]: "She— I remember that whiplash generally resolves on its own. The primary concern would have been— um— internal decapitation."

[Camfee Turing]: "What."

[Anthony ████]: "And that hasn't happened. I— think." [He blinks again, gaze returning to Bishop's neck.] "It hasn't. You'll be in pain, but you'll be fine."

[Camfee Turing]: [An audible exhale.] "Good. As for their friend— I don't think they're waking up on their own anytime soon. Probably hit their head hard. Neck looks uninjured, but you're not supposed to move someone with a possible head injury. Right?"

[Anthony ████]: "Yes. But sometimes staying put puts you in more danger. Like, for example, right now."

[Bishop turns sharply.]

[█████ Bishop]: "What do you mean right now?"

[A pause.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Are you saying you're being chased—? Oh, god, you're being chased, aren't you? It's Them, isn't it— no, no, no, I can't do this again—"

[Bishop looks back at Rook. Their jaw is tight.]

[Camfee Turing]: "Hey, hey. We aren't doing anything stupid and impulsive. We are going to figure out what the hell we're doing. Together."

[Anthony ████]: "Together? This— this is a large group, and— aren't you worried this'll make it harder for you to find—"

[Camfee Turing]: "We're wasting time. Help me move them, before someone else comes by and calls the cops."

[Bishop moves before either of them can.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Wait—" [They stop themselves. Exhale.] "Just— wait. I'll carry Rook. They know me, it'll be less disorienting when they wake up."

[Bishop exits through the passenger side and comes around the front of the vehicle. They lean into the driver's side and get their arms under Rook.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Sorry, Rook.."

[Camfee steps back. He laces his hands behind his head and breathes slowly.]

[Camfee Turing]: "Alright. We get back in the car, and we drive. I'm headed to ████████. Anthony was coming with me."

[Anthony ████]: "Y-yes. Are you two headed in the— um, same direction?"

[Bishop straightens up with Rook in their arms. They look toward the cruiser on the road. The DMS insignia on the side is visible from this distance. Bishop looks at it for a moment, then looks away.]

[█████ Bishop]: "...Yeah. Kind of. We were going to Maine. That's on the way, isn't it?"

[A brief pause. Bishop begins moving toward the cruiser, slowly.]

[█████ Bishop]: "Okay… it's okay… it's not them… this isn't— god, I'm so sorry, Rook…"

[Camfee is already back at the cruiser. The door opens and closes. His voice carries from inside.]

[Camfee Turing]: "Come on! We're burning daylight!"

[All four subjects move out of frame. The Camry remains in the ditch, rear end still slightly elevated, one tire visible still turning slowly. No other vehicles pass during this period.]

[END OF PART 2 TRANSCRIPT. NEXT?]