The day after that second call from Anita, Bobby and I made a silent pact. We weren't going to talk about what happened to the others—not yet. Until we figured out whether this was just an elaborate prank from the universe or something more sinister, it was better to keep things between the two of us. I didn't know if we were paranoid or finally starting to piece something together, but we needed answers, not theories.
We headed to the reception just after breakfast. The same staff member who'd brought us dinner the night before was now folding brochures behind the counter. He looked up, recognizing us.
"Morning, sir. Everything alright with the stay?"
Bobby cut to the chase, leaning casually against the desk. "Hey, we just had a quick question. About that 3 to 5 AM thing. You know, the warning not to step out? Why exactly is that?"
The guy froze for a second—not long enough to be called suspicious by itself, but long enough to notice if you were paying attention. His fingers paused mid-fold. He put the brochure down, trying to wear a polite smile.
"That's just something the management insists on. The forest gets really cold. Fog rolls in thick, and visibility drops to almost nothing. For safety, we advise guests to stay in."
I narrowed my eyes slightly. "And?"
He fidgeted, his eyes darting to the office behind the counter. Then his voice lowered, as if he was afraid the pinewood walls might tattle on him. "Honestly, sir, I don't know more than that. We're told not to ask questions. Management's strict about it."
Bobby and I exchanged a glance.
"You never thought of finding out for yourself?" I asked.
He laughed nervously. "With all due respect, I like my job. And I like sleeping at night without imagining things in the dark."
That said enough.
We thanked him and walked out, the unspoken tension between us growing. There was more to it. He knew it. We knew it. Maybe everyone in this town did.
Back at the cottage, Ambrose and Jacob were sprawled out on the patio, sipping ginger lemon tea and listening to retro music from Jacob's speaker.
"Any plans for the day?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
"Nada," Ambrose said, stretching with a dramatic yawn. "I plan to become one with this chair."
Jacob nodded. "My legs are still sore from that trek. Not moving unless it's for food or fire."
Bobby and I shared another look. Good. They were out. That gave us space to dig deeper.
We borrowed a motorbike from one of the staff members—an old Bullet that rattled like it was protesting every turn of its wheels—and made our way downhill towards the village. The cool morning breeze carried with it the scent of wet soil, eucalyptus, and wood smoke. There was a calm in the hills, one that almost masked the strangeness we were chasing.
The village came into view—a cluster of old stone houses with red-tiled roofs, the occasional cow tied near a haystack, and people moving about their routines like time never skipped a beat. We parked near a tea stall just off the main road.
I ordered two chais, and we lit up a cigarette each. As we waited, the old man behind the stall eyed us curiously.
"You boys from the cottage, yes? The one near the forest?"
I nodded, lifting the hot glass of tea to my lips, only to drop it immediately as the scalding liquid singed my fingers. The glass clattered and shattered on the stone floor.
"Careful," the man said, his voice oddly layered. "Some paths burn before they show flame."
I blinked. "What did you just say?"
But the man had already turned around to fetch a mop.
I looked at Bobby. "You heard that?"
He looked confused. "He said careful. You dropped the tea. That's it."
"No. He said something about paths burning... never mind."
Bobby waved the tea guy over again, his curiosity piqued. "Hey, we're into myths and folklore. Any local legends around this place? You know, weird tales, ghosts, strange sightings?"
The man glanced at the forest beyond the village. Then he leaned in.
"They say between 3 and 5 AM, the woods open."
"Open?" I asked.
"Yes. Not physically. But something about that hour... things shift. People hear voices. Lights where there shouldn't be any. Some even say time itself stutters."
"Why then? Why those hours?"
He shrugged. "Old people say that's the veil. When it's thin enough for the world beyond to peek through."
"You believe it?"
"I believe I don't go near that forest after midnight. That's enough belief for me."
Bobby and I finished our smoke in silence. The air had grown heavier.
We thanked the man and wandered deeper into the village, stopping by a couple of other spots. But no one had more to add. Just more warnings. More lowered voices. More eyes darting toward the tree line.
We returned to the cottage by evening. The golden hue of the sunset brushed against the forest canopy, making it look almost beautiful—like it couldn't possibly hide the secrets it did.
As we walked in, we found Ambrose and Jacob halfway through a bottle of rum, music louder now, laughter echoing through the rooms.
"Finally! The adventurers return!" Jacob called out, raising his glass.
"Where'd you two run off to? Find Bigfoot?" Ambrose added.
Bobby waved it off. "Nah, just took a ride. Needed fresh air."
We decided to let the night flow. Maybe we needed it. Maybe I just didn't want to think about that strange tea stall man. We drank, laughed, played cards.
By the time the clock showed 3 AM, everyone was ready to call it a night.
Except fate had other plans.
This time, it was Jacob.
The siren tore through the silence again. That wailing, soul-stirring sound that seemed to rise from the earth itself. I sat up immediately, heart racing. Bobby groaned from the bed. Ambrose mumbled something about alarms and turned in his sleep.
But Jacob had already stepped out.
I saw him through the half-open door, walking into the corridor, rubbing his eyes in annoyance. I didn't stop him. I don't know why.
Maybe I wanted to see if it would happen again.
Maybe I didn't want to be the only one haunted.
Minutes passed. Then more. Then too many.
I grabbed a torch and headed out.
The corridor was silent now. No siren. No Jacob.
I reached the reception.
Empty.
My breath fogged in the sudden chill. The air was dense. Wrong.
Then I heard footsteps from outside.
I followed.
Jacob was near the gate.
Still.
Looking at something I couldn't see.
When I called out, he didn't turn.
I walked faster.
And then I saw it too.
A silhouette.
Standing just beyond the gates.
Unmoving.
Watching.
Waiting.