"I really don't get this."
Harry was still ranting. Anyone could see his frustration radiating from every syllable. It wasn't loud or some sort of explosive anger. But there was this feeling that sat heavily in the chest. Maybe a disgust, who knew?
His fingers were digging into the metal frame of the seat as his dagger was strapped to his left thigh, vibrating with each bump. The jeep's interior felt really cramped despite its size. Harry's eyes began to trace the surface of the jeep - old dents, paint, and marks left by years of use. Then those eyeballs drifted outside.
It was almost night. The sky had slipped into that in-between state, where blue faded into black.
The moon hung almost directly above them, bright and bathing everything below. And under that heavenly radiance, a convoy of Troopers' jeeps rumbled forward, headlights cutting long paths through the uneven road as their engines were roaring in a steady chorus.
Destination - Sector 21.
Aim - Lobo. The guy who breached the security of Sector 1 and also could turn into a literal werewolf.
Seven jeeps moved together in a chaotic formation. And in no time, the group reached Sector 5's renowned Oteron Lake. Its surface stretched wide and smooth beside the road. The water reflected the sky so cleanly it felt unreal and untouched. Calm or maybe even romantic.
Harry's gaze lingered there for a moment longer than he meant to. He then pulled back and touched his dagger that was resting in his lap. With a fake chuckle, He mumbled, "I hate all of you."
Kamala, sitting in front of Harry, smirked, "Harry, come on. Stop looking like you want to jump out while the jeep's still running."
Pasha laughed, "That'd look so hilarious. Let's throw him out of the jeep."
Kamala: "Don't scare him anymore, Pasha. And Harry, we will be out of Sector 5 in no time. Relax, will you?"
Kamala's words brought Harry back to earth, pulling him back from the spiral in his head. He blinked and started throwing a literal monologue, "Relax? No no no no. You don't get it. Do you understand what's going on? I'm in a trooper's jeep, on a mission involving a goddamn werewolf. A werewolf. Look at me."
His voice cracked, but the guy continued, "I'm just a messenger from the capital. I don't even usually fight; heck, I didn't even finish my training yet. Then, why do I have to carry my dagger, and why am I going with you lot? Do you people even understand how insane this is?"
The troopers in the jeep erupted into laughter, even the driver. For them, it was entertainment during a heavy mission.
Freddie snorted lazily on the bench across from him, "Man, you're finally talking back. I was wondering when our little messenger from the capital would grow balls. Look at that vocabulary, now."
Harry knew it was pointless to talk to Freddie. No one cared about that guy. He existed in his own orbit, untouchable by seriousness. So Harry just sighed and said, "I could've stayed in the base. Just for a day, I'd have left tomorrow for the capital."
Kamala leaned back, barely suppressing her own laughter as she watched Harry suffer, "Harry, we've got rules, you know. Freeloaders aren't allowed in the Trooper base."
Harry groaned, "Tomorrow, I just needed to be in the base for one day. And then I'd have been out of there to my home. Sector 1. But no. Now I'm part of this chaos."
Freddie gave Harry a playful punch on the arm. "Now now, you're one of us for this mission, whether you like it or not."
"I don't want to be," Harry nearly shouted and then looked straight into Kamala's eyes, "I came here to warn Kostas about the danger. And what does he do? He doesn't even show up. He sends me off with you and these.....Lunatics."
The laughter in the jeep died abruptly. And without the laughter, the jeep's rattling felt harsher. Every vibration, every scrape of tire against road, suddenly started to matter.
Freddie leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Lunatics?"
Pasha knocked the floor of the jeep with his cane, the sharp sound snapping through the cabin. He shot a glare at Harry, "Aren't you pushing it too much, messenger boy? We don't like this tone coming from some outsider, you know."
Harry flinched. He knew he fucked up. He opened his mouth, desperate to explain, but Kamala's sudden laughter broke the tension. "It's fine," she said. "Harry's just… venting. Let him blow off some steam, guys."
The pressure eased, just slightly. And Harry exhaled finally, his breath felt shaky, "Say what you want, but you have no idea what's coming. Kostas made a huge mistake."
The vehicle hit another bump, hard enough to jolt everyone forward. Outside, the mud-slick road reflected the moon like a shattered mirror. Kamala's voice suddenly dropped,
"You know, everyone in the media and the central scrutinizes Kostas and calls him a vigilante, a man without limits. A man without morals. But even such a man carries some boundaries."
The jeep pressed onward, engines never slowing. One by one, the familiar markers of Sector 5 slipped past them. And finally, they crossed the invisible line into Sector 21's borders. That's when Harry caught sight of the signboard standing crooked at the edge of the road:
"Pull your meter down. Troopers ahead."
Someone - probably a kid - had crossed out the word "meter" and scribbled "pants" in its place. Almost brave.
Kamala's lips curled into a faint smile as the wind carried the earthy scent of soil. They could feel it, rain was near.
"Sector 5 is sacred to Kostas," she said in a soft tone, "It's his home, his temple, and his responsibility. He's our protector, Harry. We owe him more than you can imagine, And He... he owes this place just as much."
Meanwhile, back at Alena's house in Sector 5,
Alena was suffocating inside.
Not physically - not yet - but the air felt wrong. It did. Too heavy. That made her breath come sharp, uneven. She moved through the rooms, as if the walls themselves were inching closer with every step. The house felt alive. Not alive in a warm sense - but alert, watchful. Haunted in the worst possible way.
Each creak of the floorboards, every faint whisper, landed like a warning to her nerves. As if that silence had textures to it.
Calm down, calm down, she told herself, but the words were weightless. She checked the bathroom, the closets, and every corner.
Nothing.
And yet, with each empty room, her dread deepened. The absence felt wrong - like whatever was watching her was simply clever enough to stay hidden.
That guy, whoever he is... he needs to die.
The thought flared suddenly, surprising even her. Not because it felt immoral, but because it felt natural. She couldn't pin down what was happening to her mental state.
Then-
A sharp creak behind her froze her mid-step.
She immediately spun around, gripping her hammer tightly. And-
It was just a rat, skittering across the floor. No sign of an intruder. No movement beyond that.
Her heart thundered in her chest. The house stood still once again - Mocking her constant paranoia. "Crazy woman, finally losing it," That's what the house possibly seemed to say with crossed arms.
More than anything, at that point, she needed air. With a heavy sigh, Alena stepped outside and sank by the gate. The moon in the sky felt so distant and uncaring. And the night cold wrapped around her, slipping under her clothes, raising goosebumps along her arms and spine.
It's probably about to rain, I don't like this season. She thought as she rubbed her arms.
She stared blankly ahead. Her breath looked visible in the air, each one fogging and vanishing as quickly as it appeared. And then it hit her -
The basement.
Her throat closed instantly. Her hands curl into fists against her knees. The mere thought of it dragged all the bad memories from her childhood.
The air.....The darkness..... Her mother's voice - "Oh God, why couldn't you be a boy? Why couldn't you be..... stronger?"....and the relentless sound of her slaps, blending with her own sobs.
The basement had been her tomb. Damp walls. No light. No escape. And her mother - its warden. Alena had sworn never to go down there again. Not since her mother's death. Not even once.
But what now?
Her gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, to those footprints at their gate. The ones who had been disturbing her mental peace since the afternoon.
I've checked everything. Except that basement. If someone's here, it has to be there.
"Am I losing my mind?" she muttered, hoping the words would host themselves out of her head and make everything stop.
But then an imagery so sharp, it hit her.
Lys.
"His birthday..." she said to herself, "I forgot. It's supposed to be his first birthday in our house, and I couldn't even get it ready. He will be back in no time."
A bitter hollow laugh escaped her. The absurdity of it all struck her like a slap - her fear, the house, the silence. Maybe there wasn't an intruder. Maybe there was no danger at all. Maybe - just maybe - she was going insane.
But still, the pull toward the basement was unbearable. Like invisible hands, it was dragging her to that strangling darkness. Alena swallowed hard, setting the hammer down. Her fingers lingered on the handle as if reluctant to let it go.
"I never wanted his help…But....But fuck it."
Her hand trembled as she fumbled with her phone, nearly dropping it twice in her panic before she somehow managed to steady herself. The screen glowed in the dark. And finally, she dialed, "Kostas…" The name escaped her lips.
The moment the call was received on the other side, words poured out of her in a rush. She didn't pause. Didn't breathe properly. Didn't give him time to speak. It felt as if the entire universe was urging her to hurry. She spilled out everything that happened, her fear, those footprints, and Kalli's weird behavior. Everything. And soon she fell silent with her lungs burning, that's when Kostas's voice came through,
"Stay put. I'm coming."
The call ended. Alena stood there for a moment, unmoving, then she turned on her autopilot mode. Her legs carried her inside without a second thought.
She crossed the living room.....then the kitchen..... And there.... At the end... There it was.
The Basement door.
The wood of the door felt ancient, yet somehow still alive. Like it remembered everything she tried to forget. Though it had a lock, it seemed useless to her. Alena grabbed two planks of wood from the corner and pressed them against the door, bracing them with all her strength. The hammer felt so heavy, biting into her fingers as she drove the nails in. The sharp clang echoed through the house, each strike louder than the last.
Whatever's down there… It's staying there.
She stepped back, staring at the barricaded door for what felt like hours. And eventually, she staggered back to the living room, her limbs shaking. She was tired.
The sofa welcomed her like a trap, swallowing her entire weight. But her mind refused to rest; it raced restlessly.
Her eyes landed on the old TV in the corner. Her father had bought it decades ago. It stood like a relic, its buttons and remote worn with age, and that red curtain, draped across the screen.
"So nostalgic…" she murmured, her voice unfocused.
Wait… had the curtain always been there?
The question clawed at her; her heart skipped a beat. Why is it here now?
Her voice cracked as she whispered into the stillness, "I'm imagining it. I have to be." At last, she let out a long, soft "hyeee," the kind of sound people made when exhaustion finally won. Her eyelids were drooping. A long, shaky exhale escaped her lips as sleep claimed her, dragging her into its den.