I didn't think much of it the first time a VHS tape showed up in my mailbox, and we even uses VHS tapes anymore. It was unwrapped with no label, resting on top of the other mail. It had been a couple of days since I'd even gotten the mail, so I had no idea how long it had even been in there. I just tossed it on the counter with the rest of the junk mail and went about my day. A couple of days later, another tape showed up in my mailbox. Again, this was weird, but I don't have a VCR, and I don't know anyone who does. It's not like I could just go to Best Buy and pick one up. Maybe a pawn shop would have one. But I really didn't have enough interest to put forth any effort over two random VHS tapes. Who would? It was after I got the third tape the next day that I had enough interest and annoyance to just order a cheap VCR off Amazon for $45, which I thought was almost too much. But if I knew then what I know now, I would have spent more. It took two days for the VCR to arrive, and in that time, two more tapes showed up in my mailbox. I'll admit that by that time, I was interested enough in what was going on that I wanted to see what was on the tapes. But I also knew well enough that I might just end up looking at a tape of some guy dancing around naked in front of his camera. Or more likely, they were blank, and it just conned me into buying a VCR. Which, if you think about it, would be a kind of cool marketing campaign. But the tapes weren't blank. It took me a little while to get the VCR hooked up to my TV. Along with a trip to the store for a cable they either didn't pack or I didn't realize I needed. Finally, I slide one of the tapes I received into the machine with that familiar click and hum that brought me back to the days of being a middle school kid, getting her hands on the once fabled faces of death tapes. And regretting seeing the monkey scene. Or a flash of college. When the internet was still new enough, the people actually paid money to buy VHS tapes off late night infomercials of people getting naked at Mardi Gras and Spring Break. All things considered I would have been happier seeing the monkey scene again. Or even a naked guy dancing around on my TV. The black screen buzzed for a moment with the nostalgic tracking. As the image adjusted before cutting to a face I knew, my brother Dan. He was sitting in a room, his back to a brick wall. The camera was zoomed in far enough that I could only see his head and the top of his shoulders. He just sat there staring at me. It looked like there was something dark under his nose. But the quality of the tape and the cheap VCR was so shitty that it was hard to tell. It kinda looked like he'd had a bloody nose. Thinking this was some kind of stupid internet prank that I wasn't up on like Rick Rowling or something, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed his number. It went right to voicemail. Of course it did. It had to be a prank or some of his art house bullshit. Asshole. I sat there on my couch watching the tape of what felt like my brother watching me. He just stared at the camera for a couple of minutes. Kinda looking nervous before his eyes started to dart back and forth like he was thinking about something really hard. Finally he spoke.

No. Then nothing.

He just sat there for a while before starting to think again. Then once again he spoke.

No.

This went on for ten minutes. The next word was yes, then no again. Those were the only words he would say. After what started to look like more and more frantic moments of thought, then the tape ended. I didn't get it. I can't imagine how I could have gotten it at the moment. I called Dan again and again got voicemail. You

reached Dan, leave a message or don't.

Dude, I don't get what's going on, but you owe me $45 for buying a fucking VCR. Good you at least have sent me a tape of something I'd enjoy. Like 80s anime or something? Whatever. Call me when you get this and at least let me in on what the joke was supposed to be. I tossed the phone on the counter and looked at the tapes. I didn't immediately put in another tape. I don't know if it was that I wanted to talk to Dan first or if it was something else. But it wasn't until the next morning when I still didn't get a call back from Dan that I put in another tape. I sat down with a cup of coffee and pressed play. Again, after a few moments of black, Dan's face appeared. This time his left eye was almost swollen shut. It was puffed out and purple and almost shined. It looked so raw. I choked on my coffee burning my throat in the process. What the fuck? I said it as if Dan was going to answer. Again, he just stared at the screen for a while before finally speaking. Yes.

His

voice trembled this time. Another 10 minutes went by of him saying only yes and no randomly. Before he got this panicked look in his eyes and the video shut off again. I called Dan's cell again and again it went straight to voicemail. You reached Dan, leave a message or down. Dude, what the fuck is this? This isn't fucking funny. Just call me back. I don't know if you hooked up with another one of those performance art chicks or what. But I'm not laughing. Call me back. I put in another tape. I had been scattered on my counter at some point so I really had no idea when I'd gotten each one. I swore when I saw Dan's face appear seconds after pressing play on the third tape. His nose was bleeding. His eye was a grotesque purplish yellow and blood ran from his mouth. Yes.

When he

finally spoke I could see that he was missing several teeth as more blood poured out of his mouth. I scrambled to grab my phone. I called Dan again but this time his voicemail box was full. He lived alone. No roommates. No girlfriend, nothing. He was an artist who spent all his time doing some kind of shit I didn't understand. Sometimes he traveled for art shows or gallery openings. He wasn't great about returning calls but I didn't believe for a single moment that he would be doing some kind of performance piece this fucked up and just leave me hanging. More woody. I had no idea. He was my brother I loved him. He was the only family I had left but we were different people. I didn't think like he did or like the people he spent time with. Some of those people he hung out with reduced some weird fucking shows just to get reactions. But this? This wasn't just makeup. If this was real. Even if he was doing it to himself it was beyond the pale. He needed help. I tried to remember the name of one of the gallery's Dan hits old stuff too. But blanked as I stared at his broken face. As I searched Google for galleries in the area I started to mumble to myself. Is this a fucking joke? No. I froze. My eyes slowly moving from the phone to the TV. I wish I could say that the wheels were turning in my head and I was figuring it all out. But in that moment I was stuck in neutral. I wasn't thinking about anything. I just sat there and stared at the television screen as Dan spoke again.

Yes.

His words were a jumbled mess. The letter slurred. If he had tried to say anything other than yes or no it would have been impossible to understand. Still I couldn't shake the simple thought. Dan wasn't just saying yes or no. He was talking to me. I grabbed another of the tapes and put it in. This time it was Dan's face completely clear of any marks. He sat there stoic and composed. He breathed slowly and after a while looked up. Like he was resigning himself to the moment and spoke. No. Then again. No.

Then

again.

No. Then.

Yes. The tape cut out as Dan just stared at the screen. I wanted to warn him, yell at him of what was going to happen. I ran out of my house and checked the mailbox. It was empty. There was one more tape sitting on my counter. I walked back into the house afraid to play the last tape. Not sure of what I would see. Would it be something in between what I'd already seen? Would it be an explanation of what was happening? Would it be something worse? The face that appeared on the screen might not have even been my brother. If it had been the first tape I'd watched I don't think I would have watched anymore. His face was so beaten and bruised and smeared with blood that it looked like a mask. He was missing his right ear and most of his teeth. And that's just what I could see of him. And still, after a few moments he started

to talk. No.

He was slowly shaking his head. He knew he could barely say the words and had to help them along. Yeah.

He

nodded his head. He was trying to talk to me. That was the driving force behind it all. The will to keep trying something. Anything to get me to understand. He wasn't saying anything. He was answering questions. Questions he thought I would be asking. How he was even managing the words through the pain and his deformed face I don't want to imagine. I finally called the police. 911.

What's your emergency?

My brother's been kidnapped.

What's your name? Michelle Paulky. And your brother's name? Dan Paulky. How do you know he's been kidnapped, ma'am?

I, uh, I got these tapes in the mail.

What kind of tapes?

VHS tapes. I got five of them over the last week or so.

What's on the tapes,

ma'am? What's my brother? Each tape he looks more and more beaten up like he's being

tortured. Is there anyone else on the tapes? No, just him. Does he say anything about his location or a doctor on the tapes? I don't know.

All he says is yes and no. I think he's trying to tell me something.

Do you think he's trying to answer questions for you, ma'am? What? I said, do you think he's trying to answer questions for you, ma'am? I, I don't know.

I guess so. I

think so. Okay, stay there, ma'am. Someone will be there soon.

I went to the front door and left it open for the police, hoping they would get off their lazy asses and actually help out. I grabbed the first tape again, the one where he wasn't hurt, and I put it in. I wrote down all his yeses and noes, and I tried to work it out. Over and over, I tried to write down the questions I thought he was trying to answer. But there were too many options. Was he telling me he was okay? Was he trying to tell me directions? Was he trying to identify as a doctor? There were so many options, and I just couldn't slow my mind down enough to concentrate. I hadn't received any more tapes. Dan might have been dead, and I couldn't even figure out the question to his first answer. So let me ask you, if someone took you and gave you a chance to be saved, I could only answer yes or no to a conversation you had to imagine having with the person you chose to save you.