The sand blew quickly through the town. From the outside it looked like an abandoned town, one of those mining towns which were all deserted when the gold was gone. The inside was a completely different matter.

Sally was curled up against the wall, head in her hands. The sandstorm had been going for hours now. They'd done their best to board up the windows and doors, but flecks of sand kept continued to get through. The floor near the windows was covered in a thin gritty layer. Sally had been doing her best to stay away from it. It paid to be cautious in Night Vale.

Jack and Flora had gone upstairs a while ago. She didn't want to think about what they were doing up there. The thumps on the floor were getting rather repetitive now. Hopefully they'd finish soon. No pun intended. Dean was out and caught in a supermarket in the storm, wouldn't be back until later. So, for now, it was just her. And the sand.

The dustpan and brush were lying in front of her, just out of reach. She looked at them, looked at the sand continuing to flow in through the gaps in the window, and decided against sweeping up. She had nowhere to put the sand, anyway. Making her way into the kitchen, Sally paused to turn on the radio. The charming tones of everyone's favourite radio presenter, Cecil Baldwin, swept across the kitchen as she began pulling out the necessary utensils to make herself a sandwich.

Cheese, ham, cucumber, something mouldy and green growing in the corner of the fridge. It snapped shut, accompanied by a slow shaking of the head and a silent lament that Dean hadn't got back with the food.

The radio presenter was saying something about fights breaking out on the road. Stupid place to have a fight, especially in this weather. A phone bleeped. A text from Dean.

"Still stuck in supermarket. Are you listening to the news? D."

"Kinda, why, anything weird going on? S." She laughed a little at the weird part. When was something going on in Night Vale that wasn't weird?

"Apparently people have doppelgangers turning up. Keep an eye out. D."

"Well, it makes a change from the angels, I guess. S."

She absentmindedly started packing away the utensils she'd got out. A small speck of sand fell onto her hand and she brushed it away.

Her texts over, her sandwich left unmade and uneaten, Sally returned to the living room. And stopped. The large mirror which covered the left wall of the living room was reflecting not one, but two Sallies. And one was stood right behind her, holding a large kitchen knife. She spun around, flinging her arms around wildly in the hope that it might scare the other Sally. It didn't really work. Sally 2 stepped forwards, a malicious glint in her eyes, knife held high. Sally ran backwards, the scream catching in her throat, and fell backwards over the coffee table. As she sat on the floor and prepared to die, she noticed that the thumping upstairs had stopped. Sally 2 was straddling her now, pushing her back down to the floor. Sally's brain noted that it would be useless to resist – they were both the same. Same height, same weight, same strength. And while a fair fight between the two could last for hours, this fight certainly wasn't fair and Sally 2 had a knife and besides, Sally had frozen and all she could do was think these horrible thoughts and wait to die and-

A large mallet came down on Sally 2's head, stunning her. Behind her, Flora stood, tears streaming down her face. There were smears of blood all over her clothes, and her face had some nasty scratch marks.

"Sal, you need to kill her." Flora's words were coming through the sandstorm currently raging in Sally's head. Sally looked at her, and nodded. Silently she took the knife from the unconscious girl's hands, and rammed it into her heart. She then sat back, staring at the face which was hers. The face which she had just killed.

Flora grabbed Sally by the arm and pulled her up. "C'mon, we need to go."

"But where?" Replied Sally in a strange voice which she wasn't sure she owned.

"Upstairs. Jack has got one of them, only I don't know which one is which." Flora tugged Sally up the stairs. The wallpaper in this house was vile, Sally noted. When was the last time they even thought about redecorating?

As they passed the bathroom upstairs, Sally looked in and wished she hadn't. The beaten, broken remains of a girl like Flora lay there, smashed to a pulp. Now that she thought about it, Sally realised that the hammer in Flora's hand had not been clean. It had been blooded and looked used. She looked at Flora, who was now ahead of her, opening the door to the bedroom she shared with Jack.

"Here. I left them both tied up in here." Flora said, adjusting her glasses.

Sally stepped into the room. Two boys lay on the floor, tied to each other. Two identical boys. Both of whom looked at her as she entered and said "He's the fake, not me" in the same, identical voice. She exchanged a glance with Flora.

Down in the kitchen, the radio continued to blare. A different voice came out of it this time, a stranger's tones.

"Hello...? Hello? Desert Bluffs?"