August 25, 1970, Tuesday. The weather was beautiful. A group of four people were exploring the sea by helicopter, laughing and enjoying the stunning scenery below. A little farther out, deep into the ocean, dark clouds suddenly rolled in, and the weather turned treacherous. They realized flying the helicopter in such a storm would be dangerous. Fear crept in—they were in the middle of the sea, with no land in sight, and returning safely seemed impossible.
For a brief moment, the mist cleared below, revealing land through the haze. Thinking they had reached an island, they decided to land as quickly as possible. The landing was rough and difficult, but somehow they managed to set the helicopter down. Everyone stepped out and looked around. The place was breathtakingly beautiful. They decided to rest there for a while until the storm passed, then continue their journey.
They settled in to rest, waiting for the weather to clear so they could take off again. Claire insisted on exploring the island, but Captain Joy refused, saying they didn't have time. They needed to complete the trip and return before nightfall. Her boyfriend, Rax, backed her up, pointing out that they couldn't leave anyway with the storm raging. A short exploration wouldn't hurt—they'd be back soon. After a long argument, Captain Joy stood firm: no one was going inside the island. He was responsible for all four of them, and for safety reasons, everyone would stay put. Helena and Max agreed, supporting his decision to remain near the helicopter.
They waited for some time. Later, without telling anyone, Claire and Rax slipped away into the island. After a while, Captain Joy glanced around and noticed they were missing. "Hey, where are your other two friends?"
Helena replied, "They were right here a moment ago. Maybe they went into the island?"
Captain Joy frowned. "We have to leave now. Call them back quickly."
On the other side of the island, Claire and Rax had drifted away from the helicopter, lost in the calm beauty around them. The air felt cooler, quieter—almost unreal. Tall trees swayed gently as sunlight filtered through the leaves, painting soft golden patterns on the ground. Claire brushed sand off her dress while Rax held her hand, pulling her closer. For a brief moment, the storm, the helicopter, and Captain Joy's warnings felt distant. There was only the island... and them.
They stood face to face, laughter fading, breaths slowing. Slowly, they leaned in—and kissed. The calm shattered instantly.
Bhad-bhad-bhad!
Massive wings flapped violently as dozens of birds burst out of the bushes.
Claire and Rax jerked apart, startled, the air suddenly heavy. Claire clutched Rax's arm. "What was that?" she whispered.
Before they could react, the scene shifted.
Back near the clearing, Captain Joy realized time was slipping away. He prepared the helicopter, deciding to search the island from above, hoping the sound of the engine would draw Claire and Rax back.
Meanwhile, Helena and Max pushed deeper into the jungle, tension rising with every step. Suddenly, Max pointed down.
"Footprints..." Relief washed over them as they followed—until the tracks abruptly ended. Confused, they scanned the area.
"They must be nearby," Helena said, unsure.
A jacket hung loosely on a bush. Rax's. They laughed nervously. "Looks like they're having fun already," Max joked, though unease lingered. Then came a sound behind them—rustling. Movement. They froze. "What if it's an animal?" Helena whispered.
"You stay back," Max said, stepping forward. The noise grew louder, sharper. Leaves trembled.
And then—something leapt from above, slamming him to the ground.
When they looked closely, both Helena and Max were horrified. It was Rax—badly injured, trembling in terror. One arm was twisted unnaturally, as if wrenched by immense force. In a shaking voice, he gasped, "Save me... get me out of here. They... they took her."
Helena stammered, "What are you saying? We don't understand. Who took whom?"
Only then did they realize there were just three of them—Rax, Helena, and Max. Claire was gone.
In a blur of motion, something yanked Rax away so fast they barely registered it. His screams faded into the distance. All that remained was half of his severed arm, caught in the bushes.
Panic surged through them. Helena cried, "We have to go save them!"
Max cut her off, shouting, "Are you crazy? We have to get out of here! You saw what they did to him—they'll do the same to us! We need to find Captain Joy, get to the helicopter, and leave now!"
He looked around wildly. "Where's the helicopter?"
Helena pointed. "I saw it land over there. Maybe Captain Joy found a better spot."
They ran in that direction. Soon, the helicopter came into view. Hope flared as they rushed toward it.
Breathless and panicked, they reached the helicopter and yanked open the door. What they saw shattered their last hope. Captain Joy slumped half-dead in the pilot's seat, his body drenched in blood. Deep gashes and bruises covered him from his face to his legs—his clothes torn, his skin shredded. Blood poured from countless wounds. He writhed in agony, one leg completely missing, severed below the knee. The cockpit reeked of blood and fear.
Helena and Max rushed to him. "Captain! What happened? Who did this to you?"
With his dying breath, eyes wide with terror, he gasped, "No one will survive now... No one will survive... They will spare no one..." Then his body went limp.
Helena collapsed in tears. "We never should have come here... Now no one can save us."
At that moment, the rustling sounds returned from the bushes—closer this time. Max grabbed her arm. "Run! Now!"
They bolted into the trees, hearts pounding, the only thought in their minds: run, run, don't stop.
As he ran, Max suddenly realized something terrible—Helena was no longer behind him. Dread gripped him like ice. Every step felt heavier.
He stopped, shouting, "Helena! Helena!"
A noise came from directly behind him—something moving fast.
He spun around, hands instinctively covering his face, and screamed, "Noooooooooohh..."
Year 1947, September 14, Sunday – Denver, Colorado
A boy ran upstairs in their crumbling tenement, breath ragged, hands trembling. Fear pushed him faster. When he reached the top, he flung open the terrace door—and froze.
A man stood there, teetering on the edge, the city's chaotic hum far below.
"Dad... what are you doing?" the boy said, voice shaking. "Please come back."
The man smiled faintly. "Because of me, we ended up on the streets," he said calmly. "And now you're trying to save me, asking me to come back. I feel proud of you, son. Truly proud that you are my son. But maybe you're unlucky too... that I became your father."
"Dad, please don't say that," the boy pleaded. "You are the best. I never think like that. Please... come back."
"Never become like me, son," his father said. "I saved some money for you. Go live with your aunt using that money. I've spoken to her—but she doesn't know everything. Stay with her. Live happily."
"Dad, I'm not going anywhere," the boy cried. "Please stay there. I'm coming to you."
"No, son," the man said, his sad smile fading. "There's no point anymore."
Tears rolled down his face. With a broken voice, he spoke his final words: "Son... please don't hate me."
Before the boy could reach him, the man slipped. He fell.
"Nooooo!" the boy screamed.
(Scene change)
Present Day – Year 1970, October 1, Tuesday - Seattle, Washington
Ethan woke up with a gasp, sitting upright on his bed. He pressed his hand to his forehead, the rooftop wind and Denver's distant horns still echoing in his mind.
That dream again... Dad. The old guilt twisted in his gut like a knife, sharper today. He shook it off, but the weight lingered, heavy as the humid air outside.
A sharp ringing came from the table beside him. The telephone. He picked it up.
"Hello, this is Ethan Ashford speaking. Who's calling?"
A voice replied, slightly annoyed, "What? You don't recognize me? It's Sam."
"How would I recognize you like that?" Ethan said, sighing.
Sam laughed. "Fair enough. But seriously—are you still sleeping? Don't you even know today's date?"
Ethan blinked. "What date is it?"
"October 1," Sam said. "You're late. The colonel's already tense. Get on the bike—everyone's waiting for you."
Ethan hung up, freshened up quickly, and sat down for breakfast, the toast tasting like ash in his mouth. Soon after, he stepped outside. No taxi had arrived. Then a bike pulled up beside him.
"How's it going, friend?" Sam called.
Ethan looked up. "Sam? How are you here?"
"If not me, then who?" Sam replied with a grin. "Hop on before I leave you like we left that boot in the barracks."
Ethan climbed on. The bike roared to life, and they sped off. Vroom.
(Scene change)
The military base (USA)
Ethan and Sam rode their bike until they reached their destination—a secret base.
They walked toward the Colonel's office, Ethan lost in thought about the same dream.
"Hey, what's wrong, Ethan? Why are you so tense?" Sam asked.
"Nothing... just thinking," Ethan replied. As they walked, Sam said, "Come on, my work here is done. You go to your office now."
"Thanks, Sam. I'll see you," Ethan said. Sam nodded, "Alright, take care."
Ethan entered the Colonel's office. Colonel Rich looked up. "Oh, welcome, Ethan Ashford. You're early as usual."
"Sorry, Colonel, I couldn't make it last night," Ethan replied.
Colonel Rich's expression turned serious. "You had the same dream again?"
"Yes... it's become a habit," Ethan said. "Now tell me, what is my mission?"
"I was giving this mission to someone else, but seeing your face, I had to give it to you," the Colonel said. "How long will you keep doing all this? Ethan, I know you are famous in the military, but don't you ever want to live happily with your family? I respect you... but when did you last see your children?"
Ethan replied firmly, "I love my family as much as I love my duty. That's my purpose in life."
He paused, then asked, "Now tell me, where is my team?"
"Follow me," the Colonel said, then joked, "Sometimes I feel like I'm the servant and you're my colonel."
They walked toward the hall behind the basement. Once downstairs, Colonel stopped.
"Let me introduce your team. Each one is special."
He pointed them out: Runa Vale (Iceland)—observant and mentally sharp; Ayla Torres (Brazil)—navigator with extraordinary spatial awareness; Rael Blackthorn (New Zealand)—calm under pressure; and The Volkov brothers, Artem & Kirill (Russia)—retired elite soldiers.
"And team members," the Colonel announced, "meet your leader, Ethan Ashford—leader, planner, and the backbone of this team."
Colonel Rich's voice lowered slightly as he looked at them. "What you're about to face is unlike anything you've trained for. Stay alert. Stay alive." He paused, his gaze firm. "I brought each of you here for a reason. You're not ordinary—you are exceptional. So I shouldn't expect disappointment from any of you."
The room fell silent. Everyone understood this mission would test not just their skills, but who they truly were.
Ethan leaned back slightly. "So... is it just the six of us going?"
"No," the Colonel replied. "This is your core team. There will be additional crew members on the ship."
"Oh," Ethan said simply.
The Colonel turned to the table. "Ayla, open the map."
As everyone gathered, the Colonel explained, "We received information from the Marines. A few people—children of VIPs—went missing in the southern direction on August 25. This is a secret mission; terrorists likely kidnapped them for blackmail."
"That's why I chose all of you," the Colonel continued, looking at the team one by one. "Your objective is clear: Find them and bring them back safely. You are authorized to arrest or eliminate the terrorists. That decision will be yours."
He straightened his posture. "So get ready. We begin today."
Soon, everyone got to work. The crew prepared the ship, setting everything for a mission whose outcome none of them could predict.
(Scene change)
The ship journeyed through endless sea. Nearby, Rael whispered tensely to Runa, "I told you not to come. We're facing terrorists."
Runa interrupted calmly, "If it's dangerous, why are you going? Trust me. I was chosen too."
Artem called them over, and they joined the group, laughing.
Ethan asked, "Can I know why all of you agreed to this mission, considering the danger?"
Just as Ayla began to answer, the captain shouted, "Chief! There's a ship ahead."
Ethan ordered, "Increase speed. We need to check it."
The captain steered toward it, but thick fog settled, dropping visibility to zero. The captain slowed down.
"Sir, we can't see. If we hit a rock, it could be dangerous," he told Ethan.
Suddenly, Ayla rushed in. "Guys... the compass isn't working."
Rael snapped, "Why are all problems coming at once?"
Runa tried to calm them, but Kirill muttered, "We're in serious trouble."
Suddenly, a terrifying scream echoed through the fog. Everyone froze. Then the ship halted with a violent jolt, knocking everyone down. The captain tried to move, but the ship was completely stuck.
The ship came to a sudden halt inside the thick fog. "What just happened? Is everyone alright?" Ethan asked.
Voices confirmed they were fine. Slowly, the fog began to clear, revealing the ship was on land.
"Land? Where did land come from?" Runa asked in disbelief.
"Maybe the fog disoriented us," Artem suggested, but Ayla shook her head immediately. "No. Before the fog, there was water everywhere."
As the fog thinned completely, a breathtaking island appeared—lush green forests and towering cliffs.
Ethan caught himself staring, then asked, "Captain, can the ship start?" The captain tried but shook his head. "Internal damage. It's stuck."
Ethan exhaled. "Everyone, push the ship. Let's try moving it manually."
The scene shifted forward; everyone pushed with all their strength, but the ship didn't move an inch.
Nearby, Runa and Ayla sat down to rest. "So... how long have you and Rael been together?" Ayla teased.
Runa blinked, confused. Ayla laughed, "Relax. I'm not hitting on him. You two actually look good together."
Runa smiled, and their conversation grew lighter, until suddenly, Runa stiffened. She sensed someone watching from behind a tree.
"We should move back," Runa whispered. Rael noticed their fear and approached. "I think someone's hiding," Runa said softly. Rael hardened, circling with his pistol raised.
Suddenly, something jumped out—it wasn't an enemy, but a little girl. Ethan rushed forward.
"A... child? Here?"
Runa knelt gently. "Do you live here?" The girl didn't answer, just staring with unnaturally wide, unblinking eyes.
Then came footsteps—fast, heavy, yet eerily silent.
"All of you—guns up," Ethan ordered.
Men holding spears emerged from the fog, surrounding the girl.
"Don't fire!" Ethan shouted.
They looked like natives, their skin marked with strange, glowing carvings, their movements inhumanly fluid. Both groups faced each other, unmoving.
Ethan stepped forward, calm but firm. "Who are you?"
Ethan stepped forward and asked calmly but firmly, "Who are you?" No one answered.
The silence unsettled the team, crew members exchanging uneasy glances. Suddenly, the tribal people moved, parting to form a path.
From behind them, an elderly woman appeared, her presence commanding, her skin etched with faint, shifting markings.
Without speaking, she gestured for them to follow. With the ship stuck, they decided to observe.
A decision was made: some crew would stay near the ship, while fifteen people—six team members and nine crew—would go inside the island.
They walked deeper, speaking quietly. "This place doesn't feel right," Rael said.
Ayla replied, "Fear is normal. Turning back isn't an option." Artem sighed, complaining about his legs.
Soon, they reached the settlement—small, simple, and almost too peaceful, as if time had stopped.
Suddenly, the elderly woman commanded, "Some of you will stay outside. Only a few may enter the main house."
Runa felt uneasy, though Artem tried to joke about tribal customs.
As the six team members and four crew moved to enter, a broad-shouldered guard blocked their path.
"Leave your weapons here. No steel is allowed inside," he ordered.
After a pause, they complied, placing their weapons outside before entering.
Inside, they were instructed to sit on the floor. The elderly woman sat across from them, her eyes seeming to see too much.
"Why have you come to this place?" she asked.
Ethan explained, "We're on a rescue mission. Five people—children of VIPs—came here."
Behind him, Artem whispered to Rael, "Do you think they even understand what 'VIP' means?"
Rael shrugged. When Ethan finished, the woman hid a cold, knowing smile. "And if you don't find them?" she asked.
"The world is very large." Ethan cut her off firmly, "I don't think that matters."
Throughout the conversation, Runa observed the house—shifting symbols on the walls and a strange, sweet scent in the air. She whispered to Ethan, "Chief, we should leave. Time isn't on our side."
Ethan understood immediately; something was wrong. They stood up suddenly and moved to the exit.
But as they stepped outside, they froze. Five crew members were gone. The tribespeople blocked every path, their expressions changed. Their smiles were wide and twisted, teeth too sharp, eyes hungry. They looked like starving people who had just found food.
Everyone stood frozen, their earlier confidence shattered.
"We're in deep trouble," Kirill muttered.
"We can't be afraid," Runa said, forcing courage.
But Rael wasn't listening. Sensing the wrongness of the place, he reached into his boot, pulled out a hidden pistol, and aimed it straight at the elderly woman's head.
"Tell me clearly," he demanded. "What's going on here? Did the people I'm talking about come to this island?"
The woman gave a wet, unnatural laugh. "They were such lovely people... It pained me to make them suffer so much," she rasped, before bursting into maniacal laughter.
Suddenly, she stopped. Her eyes turned glowing yellow, blood oozing from the corners. "Ethan Ashford is no use asking," she whispered venomously. "But you... tell me, Rael Blackthorn... how is your father? How is your father?"
Shock rippled through the team. As she repeated the words relentlessly, Rael's control shattered.
BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.
He emptied the magazine into her forehead. Her skull exploded in a spray of blood and bone, and she collapsed.
"What the hell did you just do?!" Ethan shouted.
But from the bloodied corpse came a gurgling laugh. The woman's remaining eye snapped open. Blood poured from her ruined face as she screamed in fury:
"RAAAAELLLL! HOW IS YOUR FATHER?! АHАНАНАНА YOUR FATHERRR!"
"RUN!" Ethan roared. "Everyone OUT NOW!"
They bolted from the house, grabbing their weapons. Outside, they formed a defensive line against the silent tribespeople. Artem raised his rifle, furious.
"Tell me where the five men are! Or I'll blow your heads off!"
From the crowd, the little girl stepped forward. She smiled sweetly, then tilted her head at an unnatural angle, neck cracking softly. "Look behind you," she whispered.
They turned slowly. Ayla gasped in horror, stumbling back. Above the main house, hanging from thick ropes, were the five missing crew members. Their eyes were gouged out, blood pouring from every wound. Massive iron nails had been driven through their bodies, suspending them like trophies.
As the team stared in pure terror, the little girl's voice turned cold and echoing: "You weren't supposed to kill Grandmother... You weren't supposed to kill Grandmother..."
Everyone spun back to her, weapons raised—horrified, trapped, and utterly alone.
For a moment, silence fell over the group. Everyone stood frozen, minds racing—what the hell do we do now?
One of the remaining crew members lost it completely. "I never should have come here... We're all going to die!" he stammered, bolting backward—straight toward the main house.
Ethan shouted, "Stop! Don't go that way!" but the man didn't listen.
He collided with the elderly woman—half her head a ruined, bloody mess. Before he could scream, she grabbed his face and ripped his head apart with a sickening crack. Blood sprayed everywhere.
"Hehehehehe... Hello," she laughed insanely.
At that exact moment, Rael snapped, yanking out his shotgun and blasting the little girl backward in a spray of blood.
"DEFEND YOURSELVES!" Ethan roared.
The elderly woman hissed, "It's time for the sacrifice."
The tribespeople attacked. One crew member tried to run, but a warrior slashed his throat open in a single, brutal motion.
Runa, Ethan, Kirill, Rael, Ayla, and Artem fought back-to-back. They fired, stabbed, and swung, but the tribespeople kept coming. Headshots that should have dropped them did nothing; they attacked even with half their skulls blown off.
"This is pointless!" Ethan shouted. "We're just wasting ammo! Our weapons and supplies are on the ship—we have to get back there! We need to free the ship and get the hell out of here!"
The team nodded, "Yes!" They began retreating slowly through the back of the settlement.
At that moment, the crew members who had stayed with the ship arrived, running toward the gunfire. Ethan's heart sank.
"GET BACK!" he screamed. "GOOOOO! GET AWAY FROM HERE!"
But it was too late. Half the tribespeople swarmed the arriving crew. Ethan watched helplessly as they were torn apart—screaming, limbs ripped, throats slit. No survivors.
He turned to his team. "RUN! We have no choice!"
They fled, realizing the tribespeople were immortal—bullets barely slowed them. The team slipped out the back, circling through the jungle.
Ayla kept checking her compass, but it spun wildly. Running, panting, bleeding—they plunged deeper into the jungle, with the tribespeople still behind them.
Year 1954, July 14, Thursday – Dunedin, New Zealand
The sun hung low over the harbor, painting the sky in deep oranges and purples. A young boy chased his mother along the grassy hill, laughing. She scooped him up, spinning him until they collapsed in the grass.
"Mom," he said, eyes shining, "one day I'm going to join the military. You'll be so proud of me."
His mother smiled, brushing his hair back. "My sweet boy... I'm already proud of you. Prouder than you'll ever know." They lay there, wrapped in that perfect moment—mother and son, nothing else mattering.
Scene fades, blurring into darkness.
The same boy stood in a wrecked living room. Furniture smashed. Walls splattered with blood. On the floor lay two bodies; his mother was one of them. Her chest rose once, a final, desperate breath rattling out. Then—stillness. The boy stood frozen, clutching a small medal in his trembling hand, eyes empty, lost in shock.
(Scene change)
Rael ran, breath ragged, the elderly woman's words looping endlessly in his head: How is your father? How is your father?
His face had changed—harder, haunted. The calm Rael was gone. The team stumbled to a halt as Ayla threw up a hand.
"Stop," she gasped. "They're not behind us anymore."
Everyone froze, listening only to jungle sounds. Kirill wiped sweat from his brow. "Then what the hell do we do now?"
Ayla scanned the sky. "We're going the wrong way," she said quietly. "The sun sets in the west. It's been on our right this whole time. We've been running south—deeper into the island."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "The island... it's doing this on purpose."
Runa asked softly, "Are you okay, Rael?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Rael snapped, shutting the conversation down.
Suddenly, distant, tortured screams echoed from the jungle.
"Maybe they offer human sacrifices," Ethan said bluntly.
Ayla asked if they worshipped the devil, but Ethan replied darkly, "These people don't even seem human."
"We can't stay here," Runa said. "Ayla, tell us—which way now?"
Ayla took a deep breath, scanning the jungle. She noticed the moss growing heavier on the northern sides of trees and caught a faint scent of salt air.
"The ship is north," she said confidently. "Moss is thicker on that side—northern exposure. And we've been going downhill—toward the island's center. We turn around, head uphill, keep the setting sun on our left. That's the beach."
Ethan nodded. "Let's move. Stay together."
Everyone moved forward slowly in the heavy, unnatural silence as the sun sank. Runa and Rael fell behind.
"You're hiding something from me, aren't you?" Runa asked.
Rael hesitated, and Runa sighed, "Forget it."
Up ahead, Ayla noticed Ethan's tense shoulders. "Chief... you don't look okay."
Ethan forced a calm tone. "No, I'm fine."
Runa sensed the wrongness in the air. Two crew members walked beside them, visibly shaken.
Artem tried to reassure them, "Whatever happens, we're here."
Suddenly, one crew member snapped, "Even with you here, people died! And you're saying nothing will happen?"
Everyone turned. Artem raised his hands calmly. "Don't get angry, friend. I was just trying to keep spirits up."
The man's anger drained into guilt. "I'm sorry... I didn't expect any of this."
Artem nodded with a faint smile. "It's alright. This reaction is normal—especially in a situation like this."
Changing the mood, Artem asked, "By the way... what are your names?"
The crew member replied, "My name is Roy. Roy Johnson."
Artem grinned. "Cool name."
He turned to the other, who hesitated. Ayla smirked, "Come on, don't be so shy."
The man cleared his throat. "M-my name is Daniel... Daniel Boult."
Ayla's eyes lit up. "Ooooh. Nice name."
Suddenly, Ayla stopped and squinted ahead. Her face brightened. "Guys! I think I can see the ship!"
Without waiting, she started running. Everyone rushed after her, hearts pounding. For the first time in a long while—they felt hope.
The shadows lengthened and darkness began to descend as they neared the ship. Slowly, the dense thicket gave way, bringing a wave of relief.
They reached the clearing and halted, seeing a faint flickering light, but darkness made visibility poor.
They clicked on torches, scanning. "Where is everyone?" Ethan asked.
Then, a sound drifted toward them—the murmur of many people working.
"Move! Move! Hurry up! We have to get the ship out!" someone shouted.
Ethan relaxed, comfort replacing anxiety. "Captain? Captain!" he called out.
No one appeared initially, so he shouted louder. Suddenly, a reply echoed: "Yes, Chief! Come on up!"
It was the Captain's voice. Ethan turned to his group.
"I'll go up and rally the crew so we can depart immediately," he ordered. "You all hold your position here. Then we will push the ship out together—quiet and quick!"
As Ethan moved ahead, Runa glanced around anxiously. Something in the shadows caught her eye.
She stepped closer, and when her torchlight hit the object, she froze. "Chief stop!" she screamed.
Ethan halted instantly.
Trembling, Runa pointed her torch. It was the Captain—or what was left of him. A mangled corpse, torn apart, with only the face recognizable.
Terrified, the group swept their torches across the ground. They gasped. Lying all around were the bodies of the entire crew.
Ethan stumbled back, swinging his torch toward the ship. Standing on the deck were the tribe members—drenched in blood.
The vessel was completely destroyed. Movement came from behind as more tribe members emerged, the old woman among them.
They circled the group, faces twisted into horrifying expressions, accompanied by a low, haunting laughter...
To be continued....