Chapter 002: Building in a cemetery.

Clinging to his radio, he flicked on his powerful torch and scanned the area where the shadowy figure had vanished. Thankfully, it wasn't near the prison entrance, but the strange movement made him reach for his radio.

But the signal cut out.

"Brilliant," he said sarcastically, then opened the car door and stepped out. He could just picture his boss yelling at him to get back in and drive until backup arrived. Torch and radio in his left hand, he gripped his pistol in his waterproof holster, ready to draw it if needed.

The radio crackled back to life, saved by its waterproofing.

"Unit 32, come in. Report your status, over."

"Dispatch, this is Unit 32 requesting backup. I spotted a suspicious person near Ambers market, moving very fast. Over," Oliver said quickly but calmly, even as he started walking down the path the figure had taken.

"Roger, Unit 32. Backup dispatched. Units 6 and 17 are on their way to your location. Please retreat from your current position, backup ETA 6 minutes. Do not engage with the suspect until Units 6 and 17 arrive. Over."

Oliver opened his mouth to reply, but something stopped him in his tracks. A young woman with grey hair, probably a teenager, stood before him. Oddly, the pouring rain didn't seem to be touching her, not a single drop on her skin.

"Repeat, Unit 32. Over," the voice crackled again.

Oliver couldn't speak, like someone had hit pause. This got even stranger when the woman put her finger to her lips, shushing him. Then, when she took it away, he found himself saying the opposite of what he wanted.

"Dispatch, false alarm. It's just a-a stray dog taking shelter. I m-misinterpreted-" Oliver's mouth clamped shut again, against his will. The rain continued to fall heavily.

"Unit 32?" The voice crackled again, then repeated with urgency, "For goodness sake, Oliver, get back here!"

Forcing his voice to cooperate, Oliver said, "Everything's fine, Dispatch. All clear. Units 6 and 17 can turn back. I'm heading back to the station. Over."

"Roger, Unit 32. Report back immediately. Over."

"Understood, Dispatch. Unit 32, out." Oliver switched off the radio, his eyes fixed on the shivering girl in front of him. No rain on her skin, that was for sure.

He couldn't have said those words himself, not a chance.

His grip on his gun tightened. A rustle behind him made him whirl around, but there was nothing. He turned back, and the girl was gone.

He shone his torch where she had stood, revealing only bushes and a path.

Getting back into his car, his body acted on its own. He steered onto the path into the bushes, every nerve ending in his brain screaming at him to stop. His body relaxed, but his mind raced.

Bushes brushed against the wet car as he drove further down the treacherous path, leading him somewhere he'd never been before. No sane person would go near such a dangerous area.

He wanted to stop, turn back, get away. But his body seemed controlled, like he was under a spell.

The car lurched to a stop. A second later, he realized his foot was on the brake.

"Christ."

He scanned his surroundings, taking in the dense wilderness he'd unknowingly steered into. Rain hammered the car, mirroring the frantic beat of his heart. Regaining control, he slammed the car into reverse. Tires shrieked against the soaked leaves, but the vehicle remained stubbornly in place. He looked forward, his breath catching in his throat. Headstones. Rows and rows of them.

This was a cemetery. And he had no idea how he'd ended up here.

The rain intensified, wind whipping it against the car with renewed force. A crack in the rear window drew his attention. It widened with each raindrop, the car's tilted position ensuring the water cascaded straight onto him.

Thunder boomed, and the window shattered, sending a shower of glass and rain into the back seat. Oliver reacted instinctively, flinging open the door and scrambling out just as the glass rained down where he'd been moments before. The car horn wailed, the only sound besides the relentless rain and thunder.

His already soaked clothes clung to him as he stumbled through the muddy water. He raised his torch, searching desperately for shelter. A building stood in the distance, beckoning him like a lighthouse in a storm. Disregarding the sacred ground, he sprinted towards it, each step a splash in the downpour.

Reaching the building, he pressed his back against the wall, seeking refuge. Unintentionally, he bumped against a hidden mechanism. A grinding noise filled the air as a section of the wall slid open, revealing a dark passageway. It felt cliché, straight out of a horror movie, yet the chill that snaked down his spine was anything but fictional.

His feet, seemingly controlled by an invisible force, carried him forward, the torch held high. He glanced back, praying the passage wouldn't seal shut behind him.

He ventured deeper, the building seeming much larger than its modest exterior suggested. Reaching a junction, the insanity of it all hit him hard. He fought the urge to run, his limbs feeling strangely heavy. Suddenly, his feet flew out from under him, the rain-slicked floor his undoing. He landed hard on his backside, the torch rolling out of reach.

But that wasn't the end of it. His arms, outstretched in the fall, locked together. Then, an invisible force yanked him forward, dragging him across the rough ground, leaving the torch behind. The darkness stretched before him, illuminated only by the faint light filtering through the open passage. Panic gnawed at him - was he ever going to get out of this alive?

Pain streamed down his face as the rough surface tore at his exposed skin. Blood stained the ground, marking his path like a macabre trail. The dragging finally ceased, leaving him sprawled on the cold floor, blood seeping from countless abrasions.

Chains rattled nearby, sending shivers down his spine. What fresh hell awaited him now?