Part 4 (of 4): Face to Face

-----

Sean pushed the speed limit as much as he dared as he and Amy drove into the city from their suburban neighborhood. It wasn't that the car couldn't handle it; the Celica was twenty years old but it could still ride, but he didn't want to risk getting flagged by a cop. They were short on time as it was.

"You think she's there?" asked Amy.

"She better be," Sean answered simply. "How much longer, timewise?"

"Depends on the traffic," Amy said. Traffic was moderate, but the trip still felt like it took longer than it should have. "It was 9:00 when we left, anyways. What was that idea you were telling Janet about?"

Sean shrugged. "I was thinking about how Samara comes out of the TV to kill you, she must go back inside when she's done. I'm wondering if she's the only one who can go through."

Amy stared at him. "Sean, what the hell are you thinking?"

"Nothing more than that, right now. I'm hoping Rachel can help me a little further."

Finally, they reached Brewer's choice. Sean held the door for Amy as they went inside, scanning the crowd.

"Sean," Amy said, pointing, "over there."

In a corner booth at the far end sat Rachel Keller. Sean's last hope to possibly save his sister. He checked the clock; 9:20.

Trip wasn't as long as I thought, he thought to himself as they walked over.

Rachel looked up at them as they approached. "Sean?" she asked with a small smile.

Sean shook her hand. "Yes. Hello, Rachel. This is my friend, Amy Adams."

As Rachel shook Amy's hand, she motioned to the seat in front of her. "Have a seat, you two. Order a coffee or something when the waitress comes by. We won't get busted for loitering if we're paying customers."

"Thanks for coming," Sean said as they sat.

Someone came by to take their order. Rachel waited until after they had gotten their coffees. "I'm sorry I waited until the eleventh hour, but you have to understand that this is hard for me to face again," she said. "I have to know, though; you said you saw Samara?"

Sean nodded. "Seven days later, to the minute. She came out of her well, came out of the TV and tried to kill me, but…."

Rachel leaned forward. "You mentioned it was a long story; give me the short version."

Sean took a sip of his coffee. "There's a gene in the human makeup that makes the body feel fear; I was born without that gene. So there isn't anything or anyone that I can be afraid of, even if I wanted to be. It's like trying to divide by zero; impossible."

"Jesus," Rachel could only say. "And now your sister's next."

"Yes. I was hoping you could give me a little more insight into who Samara was."

Rachel shook her head. "The only way to save your sister is for her to copy the tape--."

"I have…some secret talents of my own," Sean interrupted. "You could call them psychic. I have one last gamble I could try, but I need to know who she really is first."

Rachel stared at Sean for a brief moment. Then she took a long sip of her coffee, and went ahead with her tale.

She had first heard about the tape after her niece and three of her friends all died suddenly; that was when the urban legend of the killer video really began to make its way around the school. Ever the investigative reporter, Rachel then went to the Shelter Mountain Inn, where her niece had watched it in the first place. She watched it herself, and received the same phone warning that Sean had. Taking the tape with her, she and Noah Clay, her ex-husband, began the task of deciphering the images, like trying to solve a puzzle that was leading them somewhere.

It eventually led them to the ranch of Anna and Richard Morgan, Samara's parents.

When she mentioned that it was a horse ranch, Sean had to interrupt her. "Horses?"

"Yes," Rachel answered. "For some reason, Samara drove the horses crazy; maybe it was her power. Either way, it eventually led the horses to commit suicide by drowning themselves. On the ferry to the island where the ranch is, I had a run in with a horse myself. He had broken out of his corral, jumped overboard and got diced by the ferry's engines."

"It was her mark," Sean said. "From watching the tape." He then told her about the carnival.

Rachel's eyes widened a little after hearing that. "And you weren't scared by that?" she asked.

Sean could only shrug. "Must have been a bad situation for Samara to live on a ranch if she had that kind of effect on horses."

"Even more so since her father made her sleep in the barn," Rachel said.

Sean almost dropped his cup at that.

"He did what?" Amy asked in disbelief.

As Rachel told them how Samara slept in a loft in the barn, with only a TV to keep her some type of company, Sean recalled Janet's first nightmare after she watched the video; how she was trapped in a barn loft with Samara after her. It was all starting to come together, now, but there was one thing still on his mind….

"There's one thing I don't understand," he said. "If Samara had died in a fire, like originally believed, how did she get in that well?"

"She didn't die in a fire," Rachel answered. "Her mother tried to suffocate her with a plastic bag and threw her down the well."

Sean and Amy froze, stunned by this revelation. Rachel went on. "That well was underneath the cabin where I first watched the tape. Noah and I were desperate to find out something as my seven days were almost up, so we were checking it out. I had fallen in, and Samara showed me everything through her eyes."

Amy was shocked into silence. For Sean, however, the last piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. "Her own mother…and father…," he said softly. "But she didn't die right away," he guessed at Rachel.

Rachel nodded. "She lived for a while."

"For seven days," Sean said.

"She even saw her mother close the well on her." Rachel went on. "That's what that ring is at the beginning of the video; it's her point of view of the closed lid."

"But if you took her body out," Amy finally said, "why does she still come out of the well to get you?"

"Her body's free," Sean answered, "it's her spirit is still there. Her rage."

Now Sean knew what he had to do, or try to do. And while he wasn't sure how he would actually get it done, he knew now how to try.

He checked the clock; it was almost 9:40. "We've got to go," he told Amy. "Now I know all I need."

As Amy got up, Sean took the check. "This one's on us," he said to Rachel. "I would offer to let you know how we make out, but it might be best to just let it end here. Instead, I'll just say thank you for everything."

"Good luck," Rachel said as the two kids went to the cashier. Afterward, it occurred to her that she never found out how Sean came in contact with the tape in the first place. What she didn't tell them was that her son had watched the video, and it was only after Noah died that she realized how to be free of the curse; copy the tape. So she made her son copy it, and passed it off to someone they knew would watch it.

Was that tape the one that Sean wound up watching? If so, it didn't matter; Sean said he had destroyed it without making a copy. So maybe now, it would be all over….

-----

"Do you know what to do now?" Amy asked as Sean stepped up to the counter to pay the bill.

He nodded. "I think so, or at least I know what to try." As they were leaving, he looked at the clock one more time. "It's only twenty of ten; we've still got time."

"Actually, son," the cashier said, "that clock's wrong."

Sean stopped so suddenly that Amy ran into him from behind. He did a slow burn toward the cashier.

"What do you mean the clock's wrong?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"Yesterday was Daylight Savings," the man said. "I forgot to set the clock ahead an hour, and still haven't, I guess. Sorry."

Sean felt like a lead weight had hit him in the gut; Amy was trying hard not to panic.

Janet had less than 20 minutes to live, if that. And the drive home was longer than that.

Sean grabbed Amy by the hand. "Come on!" he yelled.

-----

Back at her house, Janet was at the kitchen table drawing on an old sketch pad, trying to pass the time. Wondering when Sean would be back, she checked the clock, and froze.

The time still read 9:00.

Her heart jumped into her throat as she realized what was wrong; the clock's battery had died. She ran to the living room to check the VCR clock.

It was 10:45.

Janet sat in a chair and started crying.

"Sean, please hurry!" she said softly.

-----

Ignoring the speed limit and the other drivers' protests, Sean weaved the car back and forth in the travel lanes, trying to avoid an accident. He glanced at his watch for the first time since leaving the house, and hit the steering wheel in frustration. "How the hell could I be so frigging stupid?"

Next to him, Amy hung on for dear life. "Beat yourself up over it later," she said, "just get us back home."

Sean, of course, could have been going for a Sunday drive, but Amy was scared aplenty. Still, she refused to give in to the temptation to tell him to slow down. If they did, Janet was dead.

For a few moments, Sean believed they might actually make it, but soon he noticed that the traffic was gradually starting to slow down.

"Aw, don't even tell me…!" he said.

A minute later, they were at a standstill, reduced to creeping along.

"This isn't happening. This is not happening!" Sean shouted.

"Might be some type of accident further up," Amy said, straining to see up ahead. "Looks like it goes on for a long while."

Sean found himself looking to his left at the opposite lanes. Traffic was flowing freely, more so than their lanes originally were.

As he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, Amy followed his gaze.

"You're not thinking what I think you're thinking?" she asked, swallowing hard.

Sean waited for a car to pass in the opposite lane, then cut the wheel hard left and sped up the wrong side of the road. "Hang on!" he called out. "This is going to get nasty!"

It was all Amy could do not to cover her eyes. Sean's face, on the other hand, could have been set in stone as he weaved from right to left, avoiding the incoming cars. While he wasn't afraid, his adrenaline was surging, and he made a silent vow to himself:

Not today, Samara. Over my dead body.

-----

The VCR clock slowly ticked closer to 11:00; there were now less than ten minutes to go. Janet knew she shouldn't stay in the house, but fear had her rooted to the spot. Sean had told her that Samara would be coming, but he didn't say how.

So she did the only thing she could think of doing, and made sure the doors and windows were locked, and sat back down in the living room to watch the clock, all the while praying that Sean would be home in time.

-----

"Oh, my God," Amy could only say. "Oh, my God!"

"Keep an eye on the right side," Sean told her as he swerved to avoid an oncoming SUV. "Let me know if you see the end of the jam."

The other drivers were hurling every four letter word in the book at them, but Sean ignored it. He did notice however that there were no police cruisers in sight.

A crazy teenager speeding up the wrong side of the road, he thought, and never a cop when you need one. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

"Just don't get us killed, Keanu!" Amy yelled.

Sean glanced at her, "Keanu?" he asked. "Where the hell'd that come from?"

"Keanu Reeves. Speed? That movie ring a bell? Or do you prefer Steve McQueen?"

Sean shook his head. "Nah. French Connection. Gene Hackman's the shit."

After a minute, Amy pointed to the right hand lanes. "I think the jam ends a little further up," she said.

"Good," replied Sean. "I don't want to do this any more than I have to."

He swerved to the right to let a Bronco pass on his left, noticing that a dump truck was coming up in front of him. He got ready to move to the left, but the Bronco passed by to reveal a fuel tanker coming up right next to the dump truck.

They had nowhere to go.

Amy screamed as both trucks blared their horns. Sean pushed the gas pedal to the floor, watching the opposite lanes, trying to close the gap and get over before they hit the trucks in front of them. At the last possible second, he cut the wheel hard to the right and veered over to the right hand side. The dump truck driver, at the same time, hit his brakes.

There was a loud crack that echoed through the car as the driver's side mirror was taken off, but that was all. They had made it, with almost nothing but open road in front of them.

"Holy shit," Amy said weakly.

"Hang on," Sean said as he stomped the gas.

-----

It was two minutes to eleven. Water was starting to trickle down the side of the TV, and down the walls. Storm clouds began to gather outside, as if the spirit world was about to collide with the real world. Janet was almost hyperventilating now; fear's ice cold grip had her rooted to the floor of the living room.

Sean hadn't come. She was all alone.

At eleven o'clock, the TV turned itself on. Janet looked up to see the well on the screen.

"No," she cried. "Oh, please, no. Please!"

Then a hand crept out of the well, and a girl pulled herself out.

Janet began sobbing uncontrollably as Samara slowly began coming closer to the screen.

-----

The Toyota came to a screeching halt in front of the Lewis house. Sean and Amy bolted out of the car and ran up to the front door.

Amy got there first and began turning the door handle frantically, only to find it locked. "Sean, the keys!" she cried.

Sean reached for his pocket, but then realized that in his rush, he left the car running, with the house keys inside.

"Fuck the keys!" he shouted, and smashed the door's glass with his elbow, reached in and unlocked it.

Amy ran in first, with Sean a second behind. They hit the living room, and Amy almost stopped dead in her tracks.

The carpet was soaked with water, and on the TV screen was a girl, arms outstretched, starting to emerge from the screen. Janet sat on the floor crying hysterically.

Amy ran to her. "Janet, get back!" she yelled, grabbing Janet and pulling her away.

Sean didn't even slow down. He held his arms out in front of him, and bellowing, dove right at the screen. He felt himself collide with Samara, knocking her backwards, and then felt himself pass through the screen as well.

For a moment, he was completely disoriented. He looked around, seeing a grey, hazy wooded area, and the well not far away. He then realized where he was.

I'm here, he thought. I'm in the video. Son of a bitch, I'm in her world.

Samara leapt to her feet, Sean did the same. Fists clenched, he charged at her. "I told you we had unfinished business!" he screamed.

They fell to the ground, trading blows; Samara trying to get away from Sean, who didn't dare let up; he wasn't sure if Janet was out of danger yet, but it was more than that. He knew what he wanted to accomplish, and what he had to do to get there. He had to get inside her head, and that meant wearing her down.

What he hadn't counted on was her clawing and kicking; fighting back with a ferocity or strength that he wasn't expecting. He had to remind himself that this wasn't a simple girl he was fighting.

Finally, she had him pinned to the well, and with her free hand, she grabbed a loose stone, and held it up to smash his head in. He grabbed her wrist, and struggled to hold on. That's when the images of the tape came crashing into his mind, but he was anticipating it and steeled himself against it. But it wouldn't be long before he succumbed to the onslaught.

"You have to let go, Samara," Sean said, his voice strained. "You have to let go of the hate. It's the only thing keeping you here."

A wail came from Samara; Sean wasn't sure if it was from pain or frustration, but he pressed on. "Your parents did this to you, Samara," he said, "but no one else did. Your spirit can be free if you'll only let it, but you have to let go! You have to let go of the hate!"

He wasn't sure if she spoke aloud or in his head, but there was no mistaking the pain, the sadness, the anguish in her reply; "I DON'T KNOW HOW!"

As her grip faltered, he knocked the stone away and straightened himself upright as he grabbed the sides of her head, moving aside her veil of hair and looking into her eyes. He felt his conscious self wrapping around hers in a mental grip, and focused. It was now or never.

Then come and learn! he shouted from his mind, and he felt them both drift up and away, leaving all physical sense behind.

-----

Sean found himself surrounded by darkness; the same black void that he and Janet had found themselves in a few days before.

He wondered if he had done what he wanted to do, or if he had blown it at the last second. All he could hear was his pulse in his ears, and the sound of his breathing.

No, wait…there was someone else with him. Shallow breathing; it was someone young.

A voice said, "It's so dark here."

Here goes nothing. "Not the kind of darkness you're used to though, is it?" he replied.

"Where are we?" Samara asked.

"We aren't awake or dreaming, if that's what you mean," Sean answered. "We're somewhere in between."

Since he had taken them here, he wondered if….

He concentrated, and a soft light began to glow between them from an unknown source. There was no beam of light shining from afar, no ball of light floating between them. Nevertheless, they were each revealed to the other. Sean could see that Samara somehow looked the way she had before she was killed, instead of the shriveled corpse that came from the well. He thought she was actually a pretty girl, and felt a pang of sadness at the fate that had befallen her.

He forced himself to settle down. Now was not the time to blink.

For a moment, the two regarded each other; this girl who killed through fear, and this boy who could not be afraid.

Finally, Samara asked, "Why don't you fear?"

"It's the way I was born," Sean answered simply. "Why do you hate?"

Samara looked straight at him. "It's the way I was born," she answered.

"No," Sean declared, anticipating her answer. "It's what you became, not how you were born. I know what your parents did to you. How your father kept you in the barn. How your mother…," his voice trailed off, leaving it unsaid.

"Then you know why I hate," she said.

Sean began to pace in a circle around her, never taking his eyes from hers. "I know why you hate them," he said, "but they're dead now. The rest of humanity had nothing to do with it. Not me, not Noah Clay, certainly not my sister. Your hate is what's keeping you prisoner."

"I don't understand," Samara said, frowning in puzzlement.

"Your body is no longer in that well," Sean explained. "Your spirit can go wherever you want it to, but you still exist in that well because you can't let go of your hate, your anger. I'd imagine its easier to do than you'd think. Just let yourself go where you want to."

Samara paused, looking down. Then, she looked back at him. "I don't know if I can," she said.

Sean stopped pacing, and sighed. "Then we have a problem. You can't kill me, and I don't know how to stop you. It's only a matter of time before I find out, but I'd imagine it'll be disastrous for us both in the end.

"You have a choice to make. You can either let it go and move on, or we can eventually play this out to its final insanity."

Sean began to back away, and the void began to lighten and dissolve as he let go of his mental grip on her and let himself slip away. "It's your choice, Samara," he said. "It's all up to you."

-----

As the light began to fade, Sean felt himself slowly regain consciousness. He could feel a rug underneath him. And wetness; the rug was saturated. He could also feel someone holding on to his hand. He opened his eyes to see it was Amy holding his hand; she and Janet were kneeling next to him.

He winked at Amy, and turned to Janet, smiling. "Didn't I promise you I'd come running if you needed me?" he asked his sister. She could only hug him in response.

As he sat up, Amy hugged him as well. "What happened?" she asked.

"How did I get back here, first?" Sean asked in return.

"What do you mean?" Amy replied. "You never went anywhere, physically at least. You knocked Samara back into the TV, hit the screen headfirst, then dropped right there. We knew you were still alive; you were breathing, but that was it."

Sean looked at the TV; the screen was dark. "It felt like I was passing into her world, from the tape. It must have been my consciousness." He then told them all that had happened.

He noticed the VCR clock read 3:30. He'd been out a while.

"Do you think it's over?" Janet asked anxiously.

"For you, yeah," Sean answered as he stood up. "I think if she comes back around, it'll be for me." He then regarded the rug. "I don't know how we're going to explain this to Dad."

Amy shrugged. "There was a bad storm that rolled in right behind us, just tell him it was some kind of leak in the wall."

Sean thought for a minute. It was a good an explanation as any. He turned to Amy. "Maybe we should get you home. Try to get ourselves back to normal."

Janet spoke up. "I'm coming with you this time."

Sean nodded. "Yeah, I was just about to say that. Let me just change first and we'll get rolling."

------

Sean walked Amy up her walkway to her door as Janet waited in the car. When they got there, she turned to him.

"So," she hesitated for a minute, "what happens next?"

Sean put his hands in his pockets. "I have no idea. It's all up to Samara now. I'd imagine I'll know what she decides one way or another."

Amy shook her head. "I know that, but I meant what happens with us?"

"With us?" Sean repeated.

"Yeah," she answered, blushing. "I know we've been through a lot, but I've got to know if things are going to go back to how they were, or if we can--."

Sean stepped forward, put an arm around her, and kissed her. She hugged him back.

After a moment, she broke the kiss and smiled at him. "I guess that answers my question. No hesitation at all, huh?"

Sean wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Being fearless has its perks."

They kissed one more time, then Sean stepped back toward his car. "I'll call you later," he said.

"Okay," she called after him. "Drive safe!"

Sean smiled and gave the okay sign as he got in his car. Janet waved as they drove off.

As he drove, Sean noticed Janet trying furiously not to laugh, and he knew exactly why; he knew she saw him and Amy.

Still, at a stop sign, he turned to her. "What?" he asked simply.

Janet giggled, holding her hands to her mouth.

Sean broke out laughing as he drove on. Life was good.

-----

Sean and Janet played dumb about the wet carpet, and their father had no choice but to accept that the storm did it somehow. The broken glass on the door was easier; a strong wind had kicked up as well.

The next day, the two siblings went back to school. Sean's school was still abuzz with the deaths of Tommy, Brian, and the others. Sean ignored all the talk, but couldn't help but wonder if it was truly over. As each day passed, nothing at all out of the ordinary occurred.

The next Monday, Sean came home from school to find a note that said his father had gotten called into work, and Janet was at a friend's house. He sat in the kitchen, drinking a juice and reading the newspaper.

That's when the TV turned itself on.

Sean slowly looked up as he heard a now familiar feedback whine in the living room. He walked in to see the well on the screen.

For a moment, he simply stood and stared at the screen. Then, he calmly went back to the kitchen, went to a drawer, and took out a large carving knife.

He returned to the living room and stood about six feet from the TV, the knife in hand. He took a deep breath, and let it out.

No fear.

"Come on, then," he beckoned.

Abruptly, the screen turned to white static, then faded to black. Sean frowned. What was this?

Then the Ring appeared, which Sean knew now to be the cover of the well. Slowly, the eclipse began to move to the right.

Sean held his breath as he realized what it was; the well cover opening.

Then, as the opening grew wider, it also grew closer, as if it were the point of view of someone climbing toward the light. As the light grew closer, it grew brighter, and Sean felt as if he were drifting away, toward who knows where.

Finally, the light filled his vision, and he could no longer see his living room. Only the polar opposite of the black void he was in a week ago. Slowly, the light began to fade, and Sean could take in his surroundings.

He was standing in a field, he was sure of that much, although he wasn't sure where he was. The sky was blue, and the sun was shining brightly. In front of him was a wooden fence leading into a wooded area, beyond that was an open meadow.

It looked like an ideal springtime setting; a place where a family would spend a Sunday picnic, or where a young couple would spend a quiet, intimate moment.

From behind him came a young voice. "Isn't it beautiful here?"

Sean spun around to see Samara standing nearby. She was wearing a white dress, hair combed back behind her, not in front of her face.

He nodded, "It is, but where exactly is here?"

She stepped closer to him. "I saw a picture of this in a magazine, it's somewhere in Vermont, I think. Have you ever been been there?"

Sean shook his head. "I've been to New Hampshire, once; that's next to Vermont, but no. Not there.

Samara looked at the meadow in front of them. "I remember wanting so badly to come to a place like this. I remember asking my parents so many times, before they put me in that hospital. When they took me out, we went to the Shelter Mountain, which looked something like this. But that was where…."

Her voice trailed off; Sean said nothing, he just watched the setting in front of him.

After a moment, he felt a small hand take his. "Why did my mommy kill me?"

The tone in her voice made him look down, and he saw that Samara's eyes were full of tears. It caught him off guard, and reminded him that this was, after all, just a little girl. She wasn't evil, not necessarily. She had been misunderstood and mistreated. What she did was simply out of anger and pain, both physical and mental.

Sean turned to her. "I don't know, Samara. I wish I did. But it's over now. You have to move on, even though it hurts. Is that why you brought me here?"

She nodded. "Yes. I wanted to show you that I thought about what you said, and that I am letting go. You're right; I can go wherever I want to, now. Now I am free."

Sean smiled a little. "You're going to be fine, Samara. In time, it'll get easier."

Samara smiled back, and began to walk away. After a moment, she turned back around. "What's your name?" she called out.

"Sean," he answered.

"Thank you, Sean," she said, then began to walk away again.

As she did, everything grew brighter, and when the light faded back to normal, Sean found himself standing in his living room again The TV was off, and the knife was still in his hand. Janet was in the doorway, watching him.

"Sean?" she asked warily. "Is everything okay?"

Sean looked around for a moment, then smiled at his sister. "Yeah," he said. "I think everything is really going to be okay."

"What happened?"

"Hold on," he said, putting the knife away and grabbing the phone and dialing.

"I'll explain everything in a bit, just--Amy? It's Sean. Get over here. You're not going to believe who just paid me a visit…."

-----

That night, Amy slept soundly, and Janet's sleep was free of dreams. They both were content that the nightmare that they had found themselves in was over.

For Sean, however, sleep was a long time coming. He had no doubt that Samara was truly at peace, but that wasn't what was bothering him.

All he could think about was what he had learned over a week ago. That Brian's wasn't the only circle with the cursed videotape; the carrier that held the manifestation of her pain and rage. That there were copies of it rapidly spreading throughout the country like a virus. Even though Samara was free, what had become of them? Were they simply wiped out, erased? Or did the imprint of her hate remain on them, like a stain that couldn't be cleaned?

What happened to those who watched them? What became of those people after seven days?

Sean didn't know, and he began to realize that he might never know.

He also, after a time, began to realize that…maybe he didn't want to know.

END

-----

AFTERWORD:

While there's no documentation of anyone being born genetically fearless (that I could find), scientists have, in fact, recently isolated such a gene that causes the feeling of fear. They have even managed to remove this gene from laboratory mice, with remarkable results. One of several such articles that I found on this can be read the idea of entering someone else's dreams, or dreamscaping, may sound far-fetched, the idea is not originally mine. Dream control, however, can be done by those who know how.

The way I see it, if you're able to suspend your disbelief enough to accept the notion of, say, a psychically gifted child with a cursed videotape, my tale shouldn't be that hard to enjoy.

And I hope that you have enjoyed this, my first serious experiment with fan fiction. I find myself wondering how Sean would react if he were to come in contact with a similar video, and its creator, in the Land of the Rising Sun. Maybe, if given enough encouragement after this story, I'll be able to try and find out….