The following are raw footage excerpts from Alex Kralie.

[The screen snaps on to reveal a dark room and a pale, anxious face. Alex backs away, his breathing quick and shallow, and picks up the handheld camera that's already recording on the bed. When he searched the room, he found the camera and blank tapes in a closet; weird, and possibly sinister, but that doesn't mean he's not going to use them.

He doesn't expect the screen to be a communicator. He just saw a switch labeled camera on/off and liked the idea of an extra recording device.

There is, he notes with a small measure of relief, no static from the camera. Alex slips its strap over his right hand, holds it up and begins to move towards the bedroom door. Then he stops, unable to make himself open it. He's been acting on instinct - but this shouldn't be familiar to him, not any more. Apparently four years doesn't mean shit.

You asshole, I got away from you. I got AWAY!

But he can't just stand here, without any clue where he is or how many hours he's lost. He tries calling, his voice tense and loud, terrified and angry.]

Hello? Hello?