If you enjoy this show, you will enjoy the new novel Alice isn't dead, a standalone complete

reimagining of this story. It's out now, find it wherever you encounter books, or at AliceIsn't Dead.com.

Beyond the sink is a bed. Sitting on the bed is a person in a grey hoodie, who had pulled up.

Their face is lost in the shadow, but I think I know now I could get as close as I wanted to that hood,

and still wouldn't be able to see a face. They sit on the edge of the bed, body toward us, a hand on each

thigh. I expect to feel a wave of powerful energy coming off of them, but I don't.

A cloud passes over the sun, it gets dim in the trailer. We've come a long way to talk to you, I say.

They say nothing back. Anxiety is working my gut, but it does the same when I'm ordering pancakes at

a truck stop when I'm getting up to pee in the middle of the night. I can't trust my anxiety,

but there were no clouds in the sky. Hello, I say silly. If they wanted to respond, they would.

I reach out, hesitant, but knowing what I need to do.

I touch them. They slump backwards. The oracle is dead.

From outside I hear a wet, huffing, and whooping. I don't even have to look out the window to know.

The trailer is surrounded by this woman.

Alice isn't dead by Joseph Fink, performed by Jasekine Nicole and Erica Livingston, produced by

Dispiration. Part three, chapter three, means of escape. I don't know where this trip started.

What counts is the first moment, but for lack of a better answer, I'll start with this.

I'll start with the amazing painted rocks. I needed a pee, and it seemed a more interesting stop

than a fast food place. As I was coming back from the bathroom, I went to look at the rocks,

because why not, right? I was there. They were better than they had looked when Keisha and I

came back years later, but not by much. They were rocks. They were painted. They delivered on both

fronts. As I stood there, I noticed movement on the rise above the rocks, a person thrashing around,

...