Ch30: First Investigation
1132 Words
The morning was hot and still.
Sari left the house before Nenek woke, carrying an empty water bottle in her bag. The path to the village's eastern edge was familiar—she had walked it hundreds of times as a child, chasing fireflies, skipping stones across the irrigation ditches. But she had never walked it like this. With purpose. With fear.
The sun was barely above the trees, but the heat was already thick, pressing against her skin like a second layer. The rice paddies stretched on either side of the path, green and glassy, their surfaces reflecting the pale sky.
She walked quickly.
The water source was a small spring at the base of a low hill, shaded by an old banyan tree.The village had used it for generations—for drinking, for washing, for the irrigation that fed the paddies. But lately, people had stopped going there. The water had changed. The old woman at the market said it tasted bitter. The farmers said their crops were smaller.
And Mbah Ratu had claimed it as her own.
Sari reached the edge of the hill and stopped.
The spring was visible below, a dark pool surrounded by stones. The banyan tree spread its branches above it, roots dangling into the water like fingers. But the water wasn't clear. It wasn't the pale green she remembered from childhood.
It was black.
She climbed down the slope carefully, her sandals slipping on the wet grass. The air grew as she approached the water, but not in a pleasant way. in a wrong way. A way that made her skin prickle.
She knelt at the edge of the pool.
The water was dark—not clear, not murky, but black, as if something had stained it from below. There was a film on the surface, oily and iridescent, catching the morning light in strange colors. And the smell—
She leaned closer.
Chemicals. Sharp and acrid, like the cleaning supplies she used in the school bathroom. Not the smell of earth or spring water or anything that belonged in a natural pool.
She pulled the empty bottle from her bag.
Her hands were steady. She had expected them to shake, but they didn't. She uncapped the bottle, leaned forward, and submerged it in the black water.
The liquid rose inside the bottle, dark and thick. Bubbles escaped from the mouth. The smell grew stronger.
She capped the bottle and wiped her hands on her skirt.
The black water stained the fabric.
She stood slowly, her knees aching from kneeling on the stones. The banyan tree watched her, silent and ancient, its roots dangling into the poisoned pool.
She heard a sound.
Footsteps. On the path above her.
She ducked behind the tree trunk, pressing her back against the rough bark, holding the bottle against her chest. The footsteps grew closer. Two people, maybe three. Their voices were low, but she recognized them—followers of Mbah Ratu, the ones who guarded the compound at night.
"Someone's been here," one said.
"Tracks. In the mud."
Sari looked down at her feet. Her sandals had left prints on the wet ground leading from the pool to the tree. Clear. Unmistakable.
"Find them."
She held her breath.
The footsteps moved closer. She could see shadows on the ground now, the shapes of two men approaching the banyan tree from the left. They would see her. They would see the bottle. They would—
A bird called from the trees above.
Sharp. Loud. Insistent.
Both men looked up.
"Just a bird," one said.
But they stopped walking.
Sari pressed herself harder against the bark, her heart pounding so loud she was sure they could hear it. The bottle was warm in her hands. The black water sloshed against the glass.
"We should go," the other man said. "The old woman will be waiting."
A pause.
"Fine. But tell the others. Someone was here."
The footsteps retreated. The voices faded. The bird called again, then fell silent.
Sari waited.
One minute. Two. Five.
She stepped out from behind the tree.
The path was empty. The men were gone.
She climbed back up the slope, her legs trembling, the bottle tucked against her chest. She didn't look back at the black pool. She didn't look at the banyan tree. She just walked—fast, steady, her eyes fixed on the village below.
The sun was higher now. The heat was worse. Her skirt was stained with black water, and her hands smelled of chemicals, and her heart was still pounding.
But she had the bottle.
She had the proof.
She walked until she reached the main road, until she passed the first houses, until she saw the familiar shape of her school in the distance.
Then she stopped.
The bottle was warm. The water inside was black.
She looked at it for a long time.
*What have you found?*
She didn't know.
But she was going to find out.
---
That night, she dreamed of the grey city.
The black fog was there, waiting at the horizon. But it was farther away now—held back, for now, by something she didn't understand.
He was waiting for her in the middle of the street.
"You found something," he said.
"I took water from the spring. The one that's poisoned."
"Did anyone see you?"
"Yes."
He stepped closer. His face was still shadowed, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands had curled into fists.
"Are you safe?"
"I don't know."
"Don't go back there."
"I have to."
He reached for her hand. She let him take it. His fingers were warm, wrapped around hers, solid and real.
"If something happens to you—"
"It won't."
"You don't know that."
"No," she said. "But I know this. The poison in the spring is connected to the fog. And the fog is trying to take this place from us. I have to stop it."
He was quiet for a long moment.
"Then let me help," he said.
"How?"
"Tell me what you saw. The symbol. The water. Everything."
She described the black pool, the chemical smell, the oily film on the surface. She described the men who had almost found her, the bird that had called, the way the banyan tree had hidden her.
He listened without interrupting.
When she finished, he said: "I'll find out what's in that water."
"How?"
"I know people. Laboratories. Chemists."
"You can do that? From there?"
"I can do anything from here."
She didn't know what that meant. But she believed him.
The fog at the horizon shifted, dark and restless.
"Stay," he said.
"Stay," she answered.
The dream held.
And for one more moment, the grey city was theirs.
- Writer
