We crouched behind a rusted cellar door in the forest near the broken statues.
The proclaimed nice girl—someone I still hadn't bothered to learn the name of—was at my side.
She insisted on coming when Belo had explained everything to her from the start—Mike, his call, the meeting, and why she needed to help me.
He's a good brother. Too good sometimes. He was scared I might collapse again, that's why he was on my other side, watching my face like I might drop dead any second.
'I bet he used me as an excuse to skip school tomorrow. Mom would kill me for that.'
I wanted to go alone. I still didn't trust that girl, and my suspicion grew when I told her what I'd seen while unconscious—my dream.
I'd said it impulsively, like an idiot, and regretted it right away.
Recalling it now made me embarrassed.
Back in the room, I'd scratched my head and blurted, "What I'm about to say doesn't sound realistic, but I feel like I can see Mike… in a different place."
I paused, searching for the right word.
"Like… another dimension."
Her face tensed slightly, but she didn't respond. Her silence cut sharper than any insult—it felt like she thought I was insane.
So I dropped it.
There was no point in convincing someone who'd already decided what you were.
Now, crouched here, waiting for the meeting, I sighed and gripped the door. The rusted hinges creaked softly. The forest was dead quiet, except for the wind brushing through dry branches.
The broken statues around us looked ancient—worn faces eaten by time. The air smelled old, metallic, like rain that never came.
"Will it really work?" the girl asked suddenly, her voice breaking the silence.
It wasn't nervous. Just cold.
"I hope so," I muttered.
No plan, no backup—just a desperate guess. But we needed proof. Proof that the smugglers were connected to Mike's disappearance.
The sound of a truck rolled in from the dirt road. Three men got out. They looked bored, detached, like people who'd done this too many times to care.
A moment later, a car pulled up on the opposite side. Four students climbed out, jittery and whispering, their eyes darting around the trees as if someone was chasing them.
The man in the middle chewed his gum, then spat it onto the ground.
"We were told you were six, not four," he said flatly.
One of the students stammered, "W-we didn't know if the others were coming."
The man smiled—a cold, cunning thing. "You were six. You got that?"
They nodded, terrified.
I leaned forward slightly, barely breathing. The man walked back to the truck and slammed the side door twice.
Another guy climbed out, cigarette between his teeth, smoke curling into the dark.
Together, they dragged something from the truck.
A body.
Wrapped tight in white fabric.
Belo's small hand clutched my sleeve. I could feel his hand trembling.
"Carl… can we leave?" he whispered. His voice was shaking. "I'm scared."
"So am I," I muttered, barely audible.
I wanted to leave.
Every instinct screamed at me to go. But I had to know. I had to see what Mike got caught in.
Then I recalled Mike's whisper when he warned me not to come.
But I ignored his warning.
Hopefully, nothing serious would happen. All we needed to know was what happens to the student after the exchange—nothing more.
The smugglers lifted the body into the students' car like it weighed nothing.
Then they went back for another.
The fabric shifted as they moved it, and for a split second, I saw the faint curve of a shoulder beneath it.
My chest tightened.
That dead chill—unmistakable.
It spread through me like ice water.
My lungs froze.
My vision dimmed at the edges. My hands went numb.
The same crushing panic I thought I'd buried with Dad's death slammed back into me.
The years I'd fought it down, told myself I'd outgrown it—it was still there, waiting.
My chest burned.
Every breath felt wrong.
"Carl," Belo whispered again.
"You're shaking."
I could barely hear him. The wind had turned sharp, scraping against the cellar door.
The world pulsed like it was collapsing in on itself.
Then the car alarms went off—screeching, overlapping.
Beep, Beep, Beep
Lights flickered through the trees, cutting across our hiding spot.
The disturbance of the current left the group standing in shock. They were looking at the lights and their cars, not understanding what was happening.
That was a good chance to escape, but I didn't have the power to.
But the girl did.
She moved suddenly and pushed against the door.
"I want to leave," she hissed, her voice low but tight.
"Wait—why? Not yet." I grabbed the handle, trying to keep it shut.
Her breathing quickened.
"Because I don't want to go there."
'There? Did she mean the other place?'
Her eyes caught the light for a moment.
They looked… wrong. Pale and glassy, they'd lost their pupils, just like before.
The sight froze me more than the alarms did.
And then—silence.
Everything stopped.
Blink.
The forest was gone.
We were standing in the dark, narrow passageway.
The walls were cracked, old, streaked with unmelted snow that clung to the stone like it belonged there.
The air bit through my clothes. It was so cold it stung to breathe.
The walls pulsed like they reacted to our existence.
I stared for a few seconds, waiting for the unknown to react as I swallowed hard.
Blink.
And in a matter of seconds, we were back in the forest.
The truck. The students. The car.
Everything was the same.
Except everyone slammed to the ground.
One by one.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Except me.
My hands trembled as I turned.
Belo and the girl were collapsed beside me.
I grabbed Belo first—checked his pulse, then his eyes.
He was alive, just unresponsive. The same with her.
I let out a shaky breath, but my heart didn't slow down.
The horns were still blaring, echoing endlessly through the trees, mixing with my own heartbeat until I couldn't tell which was which.
I pushed open the cellar door and stepped out.
The scene around me didn't move.
Seven unconscious bodies—students, smugglers—sprawled across the dirt, and a truck of dead bodies.
There was no motion.
No sound but the horns.
I froze.
My throat was dry.
'What am I supposed to do with them?'