All language subtitles for Lizzie.Lazarus.2024.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264

How far is it
to the place?

I think,
seven more miles, maybe more.

- We gonna make it?
- I think so.

- You think so?
- Yeah, I think so.

I did a dry run,
without her, obviously.

Aliens, though.

I swear to God,
this is true.

When Carter was running
for president,

he said if he got elected,

he would declassify everything
the government had on Area 51.

New Mexico?

Nevada.
You're thinking of Roswell.

- Oh.
- So, Carter wins,

- obviously.
- Obviously.

And then,
he doesn't declassify shit.

- Why not?
- Exactly.

How do you know this?

I read the newspaper.

Weren't you, like 15,
when Carter was elected?

So?

I don't know
many 15-year-olds,

who are so up on world affairs.

They keep newspapers

at the library for years
after they run.

They don't turn every single
one
of them into paper mache swans.

Besides,

how many 15-year-olds
do you regularly consort with?

Well, it doesn't prove
that there are aliens

- living among us.
- Oh, be real.

I'm not talking about aliens
living among us.

But the odds
that we haven't been, at least,

visited
by extra-terrestrial life

are infinitesimally small.

Besides, if all this classified
information said was,

"We haven't seen shit,"
why not declassify it?

Hmm.
You're just speculating.

Okay.

There was this scientist
named "Lazar"

who said he worked in a place

called "Sector Four,"

which is underground
near the Papoose Range,

near Papoose lake.

And he said he was contracted
by the government...

...to reverse engineer
an alien spacecraft

they already had
in their possession.

So, you think Bush
is gonna do it?

-Declassify, I mean.
-Fat chance. That guy's a
spook.

He was director of the CIA.
He's not giving up any secrets.

I don't buy it.

You think it's harder
to believe than this?

-What if she's in heaven?
-Don't be childish.

How is that childish?

What if she's really in heaven
and, like,

this whole plan works
exactly the way you said it,

but we're taking her away
from a place she's enjoying?

You know, there are more
starving people in America

than there are in the USSR.

- I'm serious, Bethany.
- I am, too.

First of all,
I don't believe you.

And second of all, I'm trying
to have an actual conversation.

That was a serious question?

- "What if she's in heaven?"
- Yes, we are--

If we believe
what's going to happen, in f--

What about my tone of voice
doesn't sound serious to you?

Why the hell
are you telling me about Russia?

There are more
starving people in America

than there are in the USSR.

And our populations
are roughly the same,

give or take 10%.

But when we were little,

our mom used to tell us
to finish all our dinners,

because they were a little
starving,

communist kids in bread lines
in Russia.

As if, we could Federal Express

our leftover Salisbury steak
to Vladivostok.

But the truth is,

there hasn't been a famine there
since the '40s,

But just like you said,
anybody who's anybody knows

that Russia is a place
where people starve,

and America's a place

where the streets are paved
with milk and honey.

So, in this metaphor,
heaven is America,

and we're in communist Russia?

It's an analogy,
not a metaphor.

And no. Heaven, like America,
doesn't fucking exist.

I mean, maybe,

but not in the way we think
it does.

It works as an idea,
but what is heaven?

Is Lizzie sitting on a cloud
right now,

painting her nails?
Or does she not have a body?

Is she gonna watchCheers
when it comes back in the fall?

Or is she in one perpetual state
of orgasm

stretches out
for all of eternity?

And doesn't that get boring,
eventually?

Does she get to visit
her friends in hell?

Does she get to listen
to the cool,

Satan-worshiping, hell music?

Is there a president of heaven?
Does she have to shit ever?

Okay, I get it.

I'm just saying heaven,
like America, falls apart,

the second you start asking
any questions about it.

If everyone succeeds in America,
who fails?

If there's someone eating,
there's someone starving.

So, if there is an afterlife,

it's probably
just like this life,

boring and disappointing,
except worse,

because you spent the entirety
of your life on Earth,

psyching yourself up
to get up there,

only to find out it's...

Cleveland...

Sarasota...

Albany.

Maybe she'll tell us.

Yeah. Maybe she will.

- Oh, shit.
- What?

Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

Oh, shit. Oh, shi--

What's going on?

There's something
out there.

- What?
- See it?

Yeah.

I thought you said
we couldn't drive out here.

-We can't.
-Then how do you explain that?

Uh, it's probably abandoned.

I think
there's someone inside.

What?

I think I see someone
inside of the car.

You're imagining things.

Look, it's all covered in shit.

Was it here before?

What are you talking about?

I thought you said
you did a dry run.

I meant I put on a heavy pack
and walked nine miles.

You didn't do a dry run

-to the actual place?
-No!

What the fuck
kind of dry run is that?

- Hey listen!
- What if,

there's a mountain in the way
or a canyon?

Don't be ridiculous.

A canyon?

A car wouldn't even help us
in the first place.

Have you ever even been
to where we're going?

Jesus Christ.

-What if it's a cop?
-Why would it be a cop?

I don't know.

Maybe someone figured out
she was missing?

Oh, shit! I told you!

It's not a cop.
It can't be.

It's probably like a vagrant
or some kids or something.

- We can't let them see it.
- Yeah, no shit.

Uh,
can we go back and around?

No.
It'll take too long.

We pretty much have to go
that way to stay on course.

Let me see.

I mean, so what?

-We should just walk by with--
-No, of course not.

Come on. Help me with her.

One, two, three.

One, two, three.

One...
...oh, two, three.

One, two, three.

One, two, three.

One, two, three.

Fuck.

One, two, three.

One, two, three.

One, two, three.

Fuck!

One, two, three.
One, two, three.

Why are you still counting?

Because I'm freaking out!

Do you...
think they saw us?

Uh, I think we're good.

She's totally faking it.

- She looks so...
- Dead?

Like, how could that thing

have ever even been alive
in the first place?

Well you can ask her in...

three hours and 22 minutes.

They're gonna drain the
battery.

-Is this crazy?
-Yep.

-You sure about this Zone thing?
-Nope.

Funny, I thought you'd give me
some kind of reassurance.

What do you want me to say?

I don't know.

Tell me you're sure it'll work.
You read it in that book.

Yeah, exactly.
I read it in a book.

You can't believe everything
you read.

-But you... think it'll work...
-Jesus, Eli.

The Journal
of the Folklore Institute,

Volume 13 issue-- Whatever, said

that the native tribes
of this region believe

that if we bury Lizzie
in The Zone

at the exact moment
of the solstice,

she'll come back.

I don't know
more about it than that.

The Spiritualists
of The Second Great Awakening

claim to have learned it
from the Jamestown S'Klallam.

Then it was taken up
by the City of Mary.

Cultists, I guess,
but they all believed it.

Is this also the book

that says,
"There's fluoride in the water"?

There is fluoride in the water!

But it's not controlling
our minds.

How do you know?
Fluoride makes people docile.

- That explains you then.
- Fuck you.

- Do you believe it?
- Mm?

That there's fluoride
in the water?

No. The other thing.

Do you?

I don't know.

Me neither.

- Then why are we out here?
- I know I am out here.

I'm out here to help
my baby sister.

I don't know
why you're out here.

I'm here--

I didn't twist your arm.
You came willingly right?

Yeah.

If you don't think it'll work...

if you wanna go back...

let's go back.

- I don't--
- She never got to tell me

why she was driving in my house
in the middle of the night.

Did you two have a fight
or something?

No.

Do you want to go back?

You know...

when we were kids, I...

really hated Lizzie.

She was sick a lot,

and I resented all the attention
that she got.

And then, my parents would...

make me perform for her,
like entertainer...

when she was stuck in bed
and they were at work.

So,
I really resented her for that.

Fast forward, I--

Twenty,
or whatever, years later...

Lizzie and I are arguing
about something dumb and...

she says, not a single
conversation went by

between her and our folks
where they didn't ask...

"Why can't you be more
like Bethany?"

Self-sufficient.

She needs my help again.

She's sick.

Extra sick.

She needs me
to take care of her. So...

that's what I'm gonna do.

What if we do it?

We do...

everything perfectly,
and it doesn't work?

Then where will we be?

We'll be in the
woods.

I miss her.

A lot.

I know...

I know.

I know the chances are slim

that this "Zone" thing
even exists, but...

if there's a half of a half
a percent chance

of bringing her back...

let's do it.

You wanna walk forwards
or backwards?

I'll go backwards.

Let's go.

One, two...

Three.

Thanks for meeting me.

Yeah, of course. Anything.

I just feel so guilty, you know?

She called me.
She was on her way to my house.

It's not your fault.

You sure?

You sure?

Yeah.

There weren't any skid marks,
you know.

- What?
- At the crash site.

She didn't hit the brakes,
like, at all.

Cops said she fell asleep
at the wheel.

Okay.

You think she did this
to herself?

What's the difference
between falling asleep

and taking your hands
off the wheel on purpose?

Forensically, I mean.

Was she drunk
when she left your house?

No.

She seem tired though?

Not really.

She wasn't wearing
her seatbelt.

I know.

You see that thing
a few years ago

about how some people
were saying,

"Seat belt laws are a violation
of our human rights"?

No,
but that's stupid.

Yeah.

Some weird smear campaign
by the automakers.

Some cabal of, like,

Henry Ford VIII
and the guy that runs GM.

They didn't want to spend
the extra six bucks

to put the little strips
of fabric in the cars,

so they lobbied these lunatics

to say that seat belt laws
are unconstitutional,

that they infringe
on our bodily autonomy.

Not like we haven't done
that one before.

You're just an encyclopedia
of conspiratorial essays,

aren't you?

We have
three hours of walking left.

What else
do you wanna talk about?

Okay.

Why pay people to avoid putting
that little extra strip of cloth

in the car?

When you sell
two million vehicles,

it adds up. Per year, too.

The lobbying probably only cost
them a couple 100 grand.

Oh, and that myth
about seatbelts

causing more deaths
than they prevent.

That was them, too.

They spread this disinformation
about this family.

Mom, Dad, little Boy Scout,

little ballerina
in the backseat,

all trapped in a fiery wreck

because they couldn't unbuckle
themselves in time.

Never happened?

It's a big world.
Basically, everything happens.

It's not statistically
significant.

For every one person that drowns

because they can't unbuckle
themselves,

as the car is sinking
into the ocean,

10,000 lives are saved
because they wore the seatbelt.

But not Lizzie.

No. Not Lizzie.

You ever ride in a car with her

when she wasn't wearing
the seatbelt?

Can you remember a time?

Hmm,
I don't know if I noticed.

I didn't. And I would've.

Maybe,
the seatbelt malfunctioned.

It broke or something.

Maybe,
that was the day

she decided to stop wearing them

'cause they infringe
on her bodily autonomy.

Do you think
that's what happened?

Maybe. It's a big world.
Basically everything happens.

You wanna know
what the last thing

she said to me was?

What?

She called me from your house,
crying,

and she said,
"I can't take this anymore."

And I begged her to come over
and talk to me in person.

What do you think
she meant by that?

"I can't take this anymore"?

Well, I'm not a mind reader.

What did you two fight about,
Eli?

Nothing.
It wasn't a fight.

Then why was she crying?

-I don't know.
-How could you not know?

You know what I think?

You want us
to have had a fight?

You want me to have said or done
something so horrible

that it made her drive off
in the middle of the night

without her seatbelt,

swerve into a guardrail
and crash into the creek.

Why would I want that?

Because you were the one
who begged her to come over.

If she had just stayed put
and went back to bed,

then none of us would be here
right now.

So, it is way more convenient

for you to invent a conspiracy
like you always do

about car companies, and aliens,
and Jimmy Carter,

than to admit
that you asked her to come over,

she fell asleep while driving,
and drove off the road.

-What the fuck was that?
-Sounded like a gun.

Hide!

The light. Cut the light!

What are we gonna do?

Nothing!
He'll keep moving in a second.

-What if he sees us?
-He won't see us. Be quiet.

I'm gonna talk to him.
Stay here.

What? No. No. No.

Why not? I'll just tell him,

I'm out collecting my thoughts
in the wood,

What the fuck is wrong with you?

What? He won't suspect
anything.

Be quiet and he will leave.

I think I can make him go away.

He won't think

it's a little bit suspicious

that you're wandering the woods
alone at night?

Less suspicious
than the two of us

carrying a dead fucking body.

Shut up.
Don't do anything.

Rhino!

Look!

Shit! Oh, shit!

He's going to come over
and find us.

Calm down.
It's going to be okay.

Rhino!

Get the fuck away!

Hey, Rhino,
what you got there?

What you got over there?

C'mon boy.
This thing's getting heavy.

Let's go!

What the fuck, Eli?

What?

Why the fuck were you trying
to talk to that guy?

-Let's... let's just go.
-Jesus fucking Christ.

Oh, come on.
I'm sorry, okay?

-I panicked.
-Yeah, no shit.

Would you please,
calm down a second?

My heart's still going, like,
700 miles an hour.

All I was saying, is that,

if I approached him,
casual-like,

then he wouldn't suspect
anything was messed up.

and I... and I jus--
I could've shooed him away.

Yeah. That's you, Mr. Casual.

Oh, come on.
It wasn't that bad.

-I don't like dogs.
-Who doesn't like dogs?

Someone just afraid
of getting caught

with the stolen corpse
of his ex-girlfriend.

Ex-girlfriend?

"Ex" because she's dead,
Copernicus.

Uh-huh.

You know what?

-As pleasant as this is...
-What you want to give up?

...there's no law that says,

"We have to come out of this
as friends."

I'm...

just gonna listen to some music.

You can point which direction...

we need to go.

This way.

Great.

Let's get her higher.

So, how'd you meet her anyway?

- What?
- How did you meet Lizzie?

You can't go ten minutes
without talking?

Give me a break.

I didn't bring anything
to entertain myself.

And I'm trying to get to know
my sister's savior.

Um, how'd you meet?

You don't know the story?

I was the arts editor
of the school paper.

She wanted to do a write up
on a movie.

I met up with her
at the newspaper office

to get the videotape,
La Revanche des Mortes Vivantes,

but... I couldn't find it,
so I walked her home,

assigned herMasksinstead.

No, no, no. No.
I know that story.

That's how she met you.
How did you meet her?

I was the editor
of the art section--

Come on, man. I...
I heard that story 100 times.

Our mom ate
that meet-cute shit up.

So?

So, whatever happened
to the tape?

Did it ever turn up?

-No.
-How come?

-Maybe, someone stole it.
-Maybe, it never existed at all.

I don't understand
what you're getting at.

I know Lizzie,
and I know you, now,

and I call bullshit
on this whole thing.

She wanted to review the movie,
right?

-So?
-So, I think you said

you had the tape
when you didn't.

So, you could get her
to come to your office

so you could...

-Whoa--
-No, charm her.

Okay.

-Okay. I'm right?
-No, but even if you were--

Even if I was, that meant

that you lied to Lizzie
to get her to talk to you.

You targeted her
for your seduction.

And if--

You're not a criminal.

People do that kind of shit
all the time.

I just...

I just wanted to know
how you met her,

How'd you decided
that she was the one

that you wanted to be with.

Okay, fine. Don't tell me.

Just know you're not as smooth
as you think you are.

I was in the library
a few weeks earlier.

I knew it.

She was wearing
that Iggy and the Stooges shirt

that just scream,

"I want people to think
I don't give a shit."

Well,
it worked on me.

She floated through the aisles
like a ghost.

I was studying.

So, I watched her
out of the corner of my eye...

until I saw her...

Saw her what?

She was crying.

Reading some novel.

The Master and Margarita.
You know it?

Imagine that.

Not giving a shit about anything

and crying at a 50-year-old
Russian novel.

How could you resist?

-Come on.
-No-- Um--

I'm just saying I get it.
She was one of a kind.

It's weird, though, you know.

You'll have to be more specific.

After a while...

that wasn't who she was
around me.

She changed who she was?

I guess not.

She stopped being the sad ghost
floating through the aisles,

weeping at dead Soviet authors?

I don't know if I ever saw

that Iggy and the Stooges shirt
again after that.

So?

So, when I close my eyes
and I think of her...

I think of her in that shirt.

I may have only seen her
wear it once.

That's 'cause it's my shirt.

What?

It's my shirt.
She stole it from me.

Oh.

Maybe you didn't really know her
at all.

Okay.

That's why she never was
who she was,

when you closed your eyes
and thought of he--

Is there a reason
you're being mean

-to me?
-No-- Uh.

Not really.
Something to do, I guess.

-No, wait. No.
-Okay.

No. No, wait. I'm... I'm sorry.

She really did like
dead Russian authors.

I know.

She used to make me
read to her...

The Brothers Karamazov...

on long bus rides down to...

Portland or San Francisco,

and she'd fall asleep
on my shoulder, and...

just when I thought
she was completely asleep

and I could stop,

she'd snap her eyes open
and ask what Katya was up to.

Sounds like her.

What?

I don't know how it ends.

I never finished the novel.

We stopped taking long bus
rides, I guess.

You could just watched
the movie.

-There's a movie?
-Yeah. Captain Kirk, is in it.

-No shit.
-Some arts editor you are.

Well,

I was only in it
for the free concert tickets.

And the hot piece of ass.

I went to the library
the other day.

She loved the library.

And I was looking
through this book.

It was about Spiritualism
in the 1800s.

Yeah?

You're going to think
this is crazy.

- I won't.
- Promise?

Promise.

How we looking?

Uh,
I think we'll be okay.

Okay,
enough that we can stop

and eat?

Let's give it a half hour.

We'll stop
at the stream coming up.

Okay.

You know, I've never
really been scared of the dark.

- And now?
- I guess,

I'm not really scared
of the dark.

I just feel like a serial killer
is going to jump out

of the woods and get us.

We do already have a dead body
with us.

What does that
have anything to do with it?

Serial killers don't kill
other serial killers.

It would be a professional
faux pas.

Well, we're not serial killers.

Broadcast that
to the whole valley.

Why don't you?

Serial killers aren't real
anyway.

We're about to use
dark magic

to reanimate your dead sister,

but you don't think
serial killers are real?

I mean, there are actual people
who killed in a series,

but violent crimes
have gone down like crazy

in the last ten years.

You wanna know why?

Better police?

It's the lead in the air.

- Lead?
- Uh-huh.

Do you remember
when we were younger

and they stopped
using lead paint

'cause it was making a bunch
of kids all weird and retarded?

Ah, I think you're supposed
to say "mentally handicapped."

Right. Sincere apologies.

We used to breathe
in that same lead

from gasoline in cars.
We would ingest lead

like we were drinking
pints of paint. And--

I don't know,
it made people more violent.

What about that guy
a couple weeks ago

- killing those men in Milwaukee.
- Oh.

Those were his lovers.

That was a weird sex thing.
It's totally different.

So, you're saying

as long as I haven't had sex
with anyone demented,

-it should be okay.
-Yeah. I mean, except for--

- Whoa!
- Whoa! Oh--

Fuck!

You could never take a joke,
you bitch.

Ah!

Here, I got you.
Just hang onto me.

My hero.

You don't have to. I'll be--

-You could be injured.
-Nah. I'm fine. I'm not.

Just give me a second.

Okay.

Let's go dig up my sister
for the second time today.

You sure
you're gonna be okay?

-Do you want to turn back?
-Of course, not.

What does it matter then?
We have to keep going.

Well, you could wait here,
and rest,

and catch up with me-- Us...

Or Lizzie and I can come back
for you.

Fat fucking chance.

Fine I just wanted to make sure
you're okay?

I'm fine.

Uh, I... I think
the bag's caught on something.

Gee, nothing gets by you.

No, I mean the bag
like the fabric.

Just hold on.

I got it.
It just need some elbow grease.

Would you relax?

- Fucking no! I won't.
- You ripped the bag again.

We have more
duct tape.

I used the last of it
taping it up the first time.

Why wouldn't you tell me that?

What was I supposed to say?
"We better not drop her again,

because that was the last
of the duct tape"?

-Yeah! That! Exactly that.
-Well, I didn't.

Jesus Christ.

We're almost at the creek.
Eat something.

Your blood sugar
is probably low,

which is why
you're being a dick.

What would you know
about my blood sugar?

Just eat your fucking PB&J,
please.

We're wasting time.

We're going slower
than I thought,

now I'm limping,
and you wanna stop for a snack?

You know, my dad always said

that Napoleon used to tell
his butlers

"I'm in a hurry.
Dress me slowly."

What the fuck
is that supposed to mean?

I don't know. It means,

"Eat your fucking sandwich
and we'll both be happier."

Five minutes.

You know, I always wanted
one of those growing up.

Peanut butter
and jelly sandwich?

Why?

I'm first generation.

My parents are from India, so...

when I was growing up,

I was always jealous of the kids

who had their bologna and cheese
with mustard on Wonder Bread.

And the sound
that those brown bags made

when you opened them up
in the cafeteria.

That's what it meant to me
to be truly American.

And it's what told me

that no matter
how close I got...

I'd still always be an
imposter.

My lunch was always chana masala
and a chutney sandwich

wrapped in tinfoil
in a ShopRite bag.

Hey...

It's masala the same to me.

That's racist.

Here.

You're officially an American.

Thank you.

It's not all it's cracked up
to be.

Don't you feel better now?

That Napoleon...

he sure knew
what he was talking about.

Except for when he tried
to conquer Russia in the winter.

What's with you and Russia?
You a Soviet spy or something?

You found me out, Comrade.
Now, I must kill you.

Oh!

Come on. We gotta get moving.

Fucking finally.

Wait.
What are you doing?

- I have to-- You know.
- Piss?

-Yeah.
-Well, don't do it here.

- I'm downstream from you.
- I don't care.

Finish filling up your thing,
and then, I'll go.

Animals drink out of this.

I don't want them drinking
your piss. That's gross.

What the fuck
are you talking about?

Go against a tree or something?

-Oh, my God.
-Yeah. I agree.

How annoying it must be
to be so right all the time.

Yeah, it's torture.

Hey... ask for permission.

Excuse me?

Ask for permission
to piss in the woods.

Is this some sort of sex thing?

Not from me, asshole,
from the woods!

Oh. Yep.
That makes a ton more sense.

We're approaching
sacred grounds.

The same spirits
we're asking to help save Lizzie

live here in the woods.
Probably.

It's important
that we respect them.

Is this in the book, too?

No,
it's just good manners.

Hmm. What am I supposed to say?

I don't know.
Introduce yourself.

Ask if you may pass
through their land.

- They speak English?
- Do you speak S'klallam?

They're spirits.
I think they'll get it.

You're deranged.

- Just do it just to be safe.
- Whatever.

Spirits.

May I, please,
pass through your land and...

relieve myself in your forest?

-What's that?
-Jesus, Eli. You scared me.

Gotta put a bell on you
or something.

Were you, uh,
whispering to the creek there?

Nothing. Just asking
for permission to pass through.

Just like you.

Okay. And that thing?

Yeah. It's just water.

We need it for the ceremony.
It's a life force. Duh.

Yeah. Duh.

Can I,
uh, see that thing again?

- What thing?
- The, uh, ceremony

from the book
you read at the library.

- We got to get moving.
- Just for a second.

I don't see anything
about water.

Jesus, Eli, it's June. It's dry.

You want me to dump it back
in the creek? I will.

-Let's just go.
-No, no, no.

I want to waste more time

fighting about a little bit
of water.

-How's your ankle feeling?
-Fucking great.

Then you're walking backwards.

- Fuck!
- What?

It's cold.

Keep her high.

I don't want the bag
getting wet.

Just my luck,

I'll get trench foot
because of this.

How we looking?

I think we'll be okay.

What was that?

Is it a bear?

Are there even bears
in Washington?

Let's pick up the pace.

You think we can...

bring her back?

I know it.

Eli, slow down.

- What the fuck is that?
- I don't know.

- Careful!
- It's getting closer!

Are we headed
straight for it?

Over there.

Okay.

Kill the light.
It's following the light.

Kill it.

It's getting closer.
Come on. We got to go.

-Help me get her up!
-We got to go.

-We'll come back for her.
-I'm not leaving her.

That thing is going
to eat us if we don't leave now.

No, I'm not leaving her.

You...

Shit.

Hello?

Bethany?

Over here.

You okay?

You just left her.

-I was trying to draw it away.
-What about her?

She's already dead.

Bethany, that thing
wouldn't hurt her.

You don't know that.

Well, it definitely
would have hurt us.

She's all fucked up now.

She was already fucked up,

and there's like shit
under her skin now.

-I didn't mean to drop her.
-Well, you did anyway.

I'm sorry.

-I was scared.
-Me, too.

Did you get a look
at that thing?

No.

Me neither.

Sorry you got a little jacked up
there, Bitsy.

I hope you can forgive us.

Should we keep going?

It's all fucked up now.

Of course,
it's all fucked up.

We wouldn't be out here
if everything was normal.

She was my own sister,
and I wanted her to die.

Come on.
You didn't want her to die.

I did.

She got all the attention
that I wish I had gotten and...

I pretended I was a witch,

and I... I cast a spell on her
to kill her.

You were a little kid.

I meant it, though.

But now you're trying
to bring her back.

Even if you meant it.

Even if you wished you were dead
every night of your life.

People change, Bethany.
You realized you were wrong.

You realized how much
you love Lizzie,

and you let her know.

At least she knew
how much you loved her

while she was still alive.

What if we get to The Zone,
and we do everything right,

and she comes back
all fucked up like this?

I don't know.

We don't really
have the option

of bringing her back
good as new, now do we?

You don't think
that the same mystical power

that can breathe life back
into a corpse

can fix a couple of cuts
on her face?

That's not how it works.

-How do you know?
-I don't.

So, maybe it is how it works.

Maybe she'll come back
good as new.

Like that scar
she got on her arm

when she was 13, gone.

Even her tattoo, gone.

That's not funny.

-What do you mean?
-What do you mean?

Lizzie doesn't have a tattoo.
She'd never get a tattoo.

Okay.

She's afraid
of needles.

- I know.
- Where is it?

Don't worry about it.

-Where the fuck is it?
-Between her shoulder blades.

-She's afraid of needles.
-She really wanted it.

-It's from--
-I know what it's from.

I was pulling for Poo Tee Weet.

Jeez. You think you know a girl.

Maybe you didn't really
know her at all.

I suppose you think
I deserve that.

Lizzie was hard to know.
I think. To truly know.

She used to haunt me
even when she was alive.

If I remember correctly,
it was you who haunted her

at the library.

She used to write things

on the inside covers
of my books.

- What?
- As different people.

She'd adopt a persona

and grab my copy ofMother Night
orLord of the Flies

orThe Wizard of Oz
off the shelf and write,

"This is my favorite book ever."

"But then again, who am I?"
on the inside.

Always with a different
handwriting.

Always with a lovely note about
how much I meant to her,

this person
she was pretending to be.

Lizzie was weird.

Don't I know it.

She wrote weird love notes
to me for a full summer

a couple years back.

I was back in Chicago
working for my dad's factory,

and we mailed the notebook
back and forth to each other

every week.

You wanna know what the inside
of that said?

"This is my favorite book ever."

"Ten bucks says
this ends up in a pile one day."

"If somebody finds it,

they better remember

that there was love
inside here once."

Wow.

The rest of it was
filled with...

pin numbers

and rules of the New York
Stock Exchange,

absent minded notes about soup,

and how much she hated
the skateboarders at the park.

Attempts at changing
her handwriting.

She really hated
those skateboarders.

Hmm.

I think that notebook
was the closest thing

I'll ever have
to the contents of her brain.

Who she really was.

Scattered.

Contradictory.

Security code X2999.

"I walked
into a file cabinet today."

"'Take On Me'
reminds me of you."

Why are you doing this?

You don't believe
in any of this.

I just...

I just hope
I get to see her again.

She can fill up more pages
in that notebook.

And just like you.

You thought you would have
more time with Lizzie.

Like there was never supposed
to be a period

at the end of the last sentence
you said to her.

Maybe you didn't even mean
the last sentence

you said to her, but you knew

you'd be able to take it back
in the morning.

And you're still waiting
for that morning to come.

Now, you're trying
to do something

that is objectively impossible,
right?

Just on the off chance
that on this day,

in these woods,

the old book you found
in the library

is telling the truth.

But you're not out here
based on empirical evidence.

There isn't a... a line
of people six miles long

trying to bring their loved ones
back from the dead.

So, we are both just hoping...

that if we want it
hard enough...

we can erase the period
at the end of that sentence.

So, it is no more crazy
to believe

that she'll come out
of the ground all fixed up.

But not if we don't get
a move on. So, let's go.

Are we doing this or what?

"This is my favorite book ever."

Don't start.

What do we do with this bag now?

Uh, don't throw it away.

- Evidence?
- Littering.

You're making that poor
Native American man cry.

You know that guy
is actually Italian, right?

-Of course he is.
-Grab her legs.

When is the solstice?

2:53 a.m.

Tonight?

It's a sign.

But we have to move fast.

And I can't do it without you.

Why is it so much more difficult
now that she's out of the bag?

-Because we have to look at her.
-That's not what I mean.

It is, though.

We can all do things
we never thought we would

as long as we don't have
to look at the people

we're doing them to.

There was this psych experiment
they used back in the '60s

to see if Nazis
were just following orders.

They asked the test subject
to give an electric shock

to a person on the other side
of a wall. And they did it.

And the scientists kept
increasing the voltage

over and over
until it was at a lethal dose.

Meanwhile, the person
on the other side of the wall

is an actor

not actually hooked up
to anything.

But the test subject
doesn't know that.

They just hear someone
screaming for help.

And you know what happened?

Milgram's experiment's
been largely debunked.

Excuse me?

Psych major, dude.

A little over half
the participants

refused to shock the actor
beyond a certain point.

And the people
that did keep zapping,

a majority of them figured out
it was fake.

I guess the actor
wasn't super good.

-Hmm.
-The Stanford prison thing, too.

Zimbardo made
such a bad faith experiment

that it never got properly
submitted for peer review.

But for some reason
we love to think

that we can all be capable

of committing atrocities
if given the right stimuli.

Turns out Nazis are still Nazis,
I guess.

I literally just meant that
she's hard to move like this.

You actually believe
in all your conspiracies?

Why wouldn't I?

-I don't know.
-Yes, you do.

-I don't.
-Yes, you literally do.

You were about to say something.

I... I don't want
to talk about it.

What am I going to do?
Am I going to get mad?

-No, it's not a big deal.
-Then say it.

Maybe we should just take
a break from talking, please.

-What are you doing?
-Don't do that.

- No, no.
- Hey! What the hell?

Don't do that.

Don't retreat into some
fucking grief shrine...

What the hell?

...when I'm standing right here

trying to have
an actual conversation with you.

I think you might
just like to stir

some shit to sound smart.

-I am smart.
-I know.

-So, why would I stir shit?
-I don't know.

Maybe you're worried
that other people

don't think you're smart,
which I do.

Wow.

You are a psych major.

Cum Laude, baby.

Can I go get my Walkman now?

We'll never find it now.
Let's get it on the way back.

-You mad at me?
-No.

I really do think you're smart.

And I really do think

that the switch
to unleaded gasoline

is an indicator for drop
in violent homicides.

Aliens, though?

What did Carter find out
that he didn't want to tell us?

Push.

Is this on the map?

This one tree? I don't think so.

Just trying to see
if we're going the right way.

Uh...

I think we're getting close.

What if this is a bad idea?

What the fuck is that?

-Is that a fucking hand?
-It's the City of Mary.

You know
what happened here?

That symbol
was in the book.

What does it mean?

-We don't have to do this, Eli.
-What does it mean?

It's her mark.

Her watchful hand.
Many become one.

We're not supposed to be here.

He was going there.

We're swallowing pride here,
right?

What if we just swallow
our pride and go back?

- Grab her legs.
- I'm serious.

Grab her legs.

Hey.

We can do this.

Okay.

You're a good sister.
You know that?

What makes you say that?

It's true.

You don't actually know that.

Sure I do.

You learned that
from a couple of Thanksgivings

and my grandma's 80th birthday.

- Oh, this. Here.
- Yeah.

What if I'm not sure
this is what she wants?

Well, I thought heaven
was a myth.

Well, it is.

But even if it isn't,
Lizzie isn't actually there.

The point is, you don't know
what kind of person I am.

Or what kind of sister I am.
Do you?

Well, I like to think

I'm pretty good
judge of character.

You're a horrible judge
of character, Eli.

- One of the worst.
- What's going on with you?

You were right, okay?

I ironically believe in shit

that I think might make me
sound smart and interesting.

Maybe it's the MTV generation
in me.

Maybe this time
I took it too far.

Come on.

You want me to admit it?

I don't believe
in any of this shit.

No resurrection,
no aliens, no fluoride.

I just...

I just miss her.

And you love her so much.

It's not right to get
your hopes up like this.

So, maybe we just forget
the whole thing,

and we turn around
and we go home.

- And then what?
- What do you mean?

The story's
not finished yet.

We need to know the answer.

You're not going
to know the answer.

Well, I... I'm not stupid.

I know just because some weird
whatever they're called--

Cultists, Spiritualists,
City of Mary--

hung a fucked up dream catcher,

it doesn't mean
that any of this is real.

She's not going to come back.

But at least we'll have
the end of the story.

What story, Eli?

If we turn back now
and just give up,

then what is it all mean?

We just took a walk in the woods
with a corpse one night

and decided against performing
an ancient magical ritual.

It's unsatisfying.

Are you at a fucking
cocktail party right now?

Who are you telling
this story to?

Anyone.

That's what this is, isn't it?

It's you a month from now,
at a party,

telling a bunch of coeds about
how fucking romantic you are

that you stole
your ex-girlfriend's body

and you dabbled in necromancy
for a night.

-No.
-It is, isn't it?

"Ten bucks says this
ends up in a pile one day."

I'm trying to say goodbye
in a fitting way.

She always had
these grand gestures.

Now, it's my turn.

I'm going to bury her with this.

-How fucking romantic.
-You know what? It is romantic.

Why?

So, you can milk a year or two
of being wounded puppy?

Death isn't romantic, Eli.

It's your organs failing
one by one

until your brain shuts off
due to lack of oxygen.

I wasn't there for her.

When she wanted that tattoo.

Ever, really.
But she was so afraid.

So afraid of needles.
And she asked me to be there.

And I...

I don't know. I...

I just wasn't.

I took her for granted.

And she cried the entire time...

over that stupid tattoo.

But she just wanted it so bad
because, it...

- Because what?
- No, nothing.

Now is not the time
for secrets, Eli.

She wanted it because
it was something permanent

she could do to herself.

Something that her family
wouldn't approve of

but couldn't take away from her.

That was her problem.

She was always trying to do
something permanent.

I don't want to do this anymore.

You can go home.

I'll carry her the rest
of the way myself.

You don't know the incantation.

It's all made up anyway, right?
What the fuck do you care?

What did you two fight about,
Eli?

What does it matter?

-It matters to me.
-Nothing.

It wasn't a fight.

Then why did she call me crying?

I'm not giving this up.

If you tell me,
I'll come with you.

We can do this, right?

We can bring her back.
I promise.

Fuck off.

I know
the incantation. I swear.

I promise.
We can finish the story.

-Then you'll know for sure.
-No.

Come on.
She is too heavy to carry

the rest of the way on your own.

What was it?

What did she say to you?

What does
it even matter now?

If it doesn't matter,
why won't you tell me?

It's not going
to make you feel good.

None of this makes me
feel good, Eli.

It's not your fault, okay?
You're absolved.

What, and this is going
to absolve you?

What did she say to you?

What was so terrible
that it made you want to walk

into the woods
for nine miles to bury her?

She said I love you.

- Bullshit.
- It's not bullshit.

I love you.

Right when Lizzie
and I started dating,

we were walking home
from a party.

I remember it super well
because it was snowing.

And it never,
ever snows up here.

Not like in Chicago.

And Lizzie got a little drunk
and started improvising ballet

in the street
on the walk back to her dorm.

And she told me.

She told me
that when she was younger,

like 12 or 13,

she tried to kill herself
in the bathtub.

No, she didn't.

She says your dad
found her, cleaned her up,

and took her to the hospital.

She was dead eight minutes,

and the doctors
brought her back.

Brought her back.

I don't know where you were.
Maybe you were out with friends.

You didn't need to be her clown
anymore, I guess.

Her mistake, she said,
snow clinging to her eyelashes,

is that she cut her veins
the wrong way.

You have to slice down
like you're splitting a hot dog.

Warm water in the bathtub
keeps it from closing up.

Next time...

she wouldn't make
the same mistake.

And you know what I thought?

The only single thing that
crossed my mind in that moment?

Thank God I found this girl
so I could save her.

That never happened.

- It did.
- I'm telling you.

And I am telling you.

I found her in the bathtub
the other night,

three years after she danced
in the snow in a trance.

She hadn't done anything
to herself,

but she was singing this song.

"Take On Me?"

It sounded like the end
of Cabaret or something.

When I asked her what it was,
she said...

a list of all the reasons
not to kill herself.

But the song was almost over.

- Meaning what?
- Exactly.

But three years after I promised
I would be her savior

while watching her dance
in the snow...

I was tired.

The shine was off the apple,
and...

it turns out dating
a suicidal girl

wasn't all
it's cracked up to be.

Try being related to one.

I told her I couldn't take care
of her anymore.

Her life was her responsibility.

That I would stay someplace else
while she packed up her things.

I know.

How could I?

We didn't fight... at all.

She was completely calm.

She just left.

She said goodbye.

She said "I love you."

She didn't call you
from my house.

Must have been the payphone
down the street.

There were no skid marks
on the road, Bethany.

She didn't hit the brakes
before she went into the water.

She didn't fall asleep
at the wheel.

Don't you think I know that?

Whether she meant to or not,
it was a mistake.

She shouldn't have done it,
and we're going to undo it.

And you won't have to feel
guilty anymore.

The psychology books
say this is a form of abuse.

Someone holding
themselves hostage,

threatening to kill themselves
if their partner leaves.

That wasn't this.

I wasn't there for her.

I gave up on her.

And I'll never forgive myself
for it.

No matter if she held
herself hostage or not.

I'll be damned if I give up
on her again, though.

Grab her legs.
We're running out of time.

It should just be up
through these trees.

We gonna have enough time
to bury her?

If my arms will even
hold the shovel.

Okay.

- Eli?
- What?

I'm not mad.

- Okay.
- But I have to ask.

What?

How often did you read
through that notebook?

The one that contains
all of Lizzie's brain.

- Uh, I don't know, why?
- I just want to know.

A lot, I guess.

Did you ever read through
the parts that were your brain?

- Mm-mm.
- Why not?

I guess because I know my brain.

Reading through it
wouldn't be interesting to me.

I don't think that's it.

- Oh, you don't. Do you?
- No. Not if we're being honest.

And there's no reason
to not be honest at this point.

So, why then?

I think 'cause
you knew you were faking it.

You romanticized
your every thought

and wrote some epic poetry

to be the Marc Antony
to her Cleopatra.

I don't blame you.

It's whatever.
It's what young lovers do.

It's just that maybe
all of that notebook

wasn't really who she was.
At least not all of who she was.

Just like it wasn't all of you.

You might be right.

But I'd rather she is,
who she is in that notebook

than the dead girl
in the bathtub.

Fair enough.

Sometimes we all just see
what we want to see.

Now, who's the Psych major?

Art history, baby.

We're here.

You think
we can bring her back?

I know it.

But we have to move fast.

And I can't do it...

without you.

Before we do this...

I have to ask if you're entering
on your own free will.

Of course.

Because this isn't going
to work at all

if you're being forced
to do this.

- I'm not.
- Are you sure?

We're wasting time.

Okay.

-We have, like, 15 minutes.
-We'll make it.

I want you know something.

-What's that?
-Whether...

whether or not this works,
I don't hate you.

- Thanks.
- You're selfish,

and you don't know what you
want
but you're here for Lizzie.

I appreciate that.

You too.

It's nice here.

You know, I'm feeling a lot
more

clear-headed out here
in the wilderness.

Yeah?

Must be because we're away

from all those
microwave transmissions

the government's using
to control people's minds.

Yeah, that must be it.

This should be good enough.

This is it, L.

What now?

God damn it.

What?

I just remembered my neighbor
has a wheelbarrow.

Next time.

There better not be a next time.

There always is. Drink this.

What?

Just water
from the creek, drink it.

Why?

It's part
of the ceremony.

-You said--
-I know what I said.

Just drink it.

All of it.

- You don't need any?
- I already had some.

-What is that?
-Blood.

Whose blood is that?

It wasn't a bear.

That thing back there?
It was a wolf.

A big wolf.

What did you do to it?

What are you doing?

Why are you singing that?

-That's the--
-I know what it is, Eli.

I just want you to know
whatever happens,

it's nothing personal.

I like you.
You're a nice enough guy.

It's kind of a shame

you'll never know
who we really are.

What are you talking about?

Never mind.
Ah, I don't feel bad.

What the fuck's going on?

It's the solstice. It's time.

Bethany,
you're scaring me.

Don't be scared.

It's all over.
It's already over.

-What?
-People in hell are starving

while the people
in heaven feast.

Stop. Just stop.

The people
in hell are starving

-while the people--
-When are you doing?

The people in hell are starving

while the people in heaven...

...while the people
in heaven feast.

The people
in hell are starving

while the people
in heaven feast.

Stop! Just stop!

Get behind me.

Tell that one
at your next dinner party.

You know these people.

We're bringing Lizzie back.
We can't do it alone.

Why are they here?

You should have
listened to me

when I asked you to turn back.

I pitied you.
You could have saved yourself.

Why are they here,
Bethany?

You can't have creation
without destruction, Elijah.

You should have read
Lizzie's brain

a little more closely.

"It's my all time
favorite book."

Stop.

What's the inscription?

-Stop it.
-Come on. You know it.

"Ten bucks says this
ends up in a pile one day."

Read it again.

"Ten bucks says this
ends up in a pyre one day."

-It wasn't my fault.
-I know.

I didn't mean to let h--

Look,
you got to forgive yourself.

It's not because
you let her die.

It's not even because

you weren't
that good of a boyfriend.

You're selfish,
but you're not selfish enough

to be home asleep in bed
right now.

Available.

Less important to me
than my sister.

It was always
going to happen this way.

You were just there.

I'm sorry.

-It doesn't matter.
-I'm--

I told you to let me go.

I told you to let me go
this time.

- I disagreed with you.
- Fuck off.

You knew I was going
to bring you back.

If you wanted to stay dead,

you wouldn't have
killed yourself

three days before the solstice.

A-ha.

Did you fucking drop me?

He did.

God damn it, Eli.

He brought
your notebook with him.

What?

He loved you, you know?

But I had to make a choice.

Poor Eli.

-Come on, let's go.
-Just give me a second.

I'm sorry.

Sun's going to come up soon.

Okay, I'm coming.

Fuck. My face hurts.

I know about the tattoo.

"So it goes?"

Can we talk about this later?
I'm exhausted.

You're tired? I had to do this
while carrying you.

You don't get bonus points
for suffering the most, Betsy.

You sound like Mom.

Whatever.

You couldn't have parked
any closer?

Would have been too suspicious.

There were some kids humping
in it when we came by.

Ew. Gross.

Blessing in disguise, really.

I just hope they didn't move
the-- Yeah. Hmm.

Ugh. God, it smells.

Okay. Come on.

Thank you.

And I can't do it
without you.

So?

I'm in.