The Blood Canvas

Chapter #13 - Mirror Ghost of Sad Ghost

The heavy rain outside the window of the Proton Avanza seemed to be trying to wash away the sins of Kuala Lumpur, but failed. Inside the train, the atmosphere was tense and quiet. Only the rhythmic sound of the windshield wipers and the heavy breathing of two men preparing to attack the devil's lair.

Rizal stopped his car in the back alley of a luxury skyscraper, The Vortex Suites. The 60-story elite residential building was located right in the middle of the Golden Triangle, just around the corner from KLCC.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Rizal asked as he checked the shell casings of his Walther P99 pistol. He put the bullet back into the chamber with a satisfying click.

Hamzadi nodded weakly. He was busy tying a rag to a piece of scrap metal he had picked up on the side of the road earlier. In his hand, there was a plastic bag containing coarse salt, lime, and a box of rusty umbrella nails plus some ashes from a bone cemetery.

"The power center is in the Penthouse. Level 58. I can feel the pulse, like a toothache throbbing to the brain," Hamzadi replied. He looked at the metal in his hand.

This wasn't a Bone Brush. It was just bad metal. But in the hands of an expert, even a trash can could be a weapon.

"You look pale, Hamzadi. Are you too late to go up? If anything happens, I won't support you when you shoot." Rizal reprimanded, as if he was joking, but the joke was rather bland considering the situation.

"I'm okay. It's just... I feel empty. Like a train running on gasoline," Hamzadi replied. He put the rusty nail in the pocket of the doctor's jacket he was wearing.

"Rizal, listen here. I hope you are not like a train wreck. We're not going to catch thieves. That place will be full of Attractive Traps. Don't touch anything, don't answer if something calls your name, and most importantly, don't believe your eyes." Hamzadi ordered again, remembering Ustaz Ismail Bakri's order to him earlier.

Rizal wore a police bulletproof vest under his clothes.

"I trust my gun. If he bleeds, he can die."

"The problem is, what we want to see is no blood," Hamzadi muttered.

They got off the train, running through the rain towards the service entrance at the back of the building. The entrance was guarded by a burly foreign security guard. He sat upright in the control booth, his eyes fixed on the CCTV screen without blinking.

Rizal motioned for Hamzadi to wait behind the pillar. Rizal walked with the authority of a few police officers.

"Good evening. Inspector Rizal, Bukit Aman. Open the door," Rizal said, tapping the window of the booth with his badge.

The bodyguard didn't move. He didn't turn around.

"Hello? I said "open the door!" Rizal raised his voice.

Still no response.

Hamzadi noticed something. On the bodyguard's neck, there was a fine red line, like the mark of a rope. And inside the booth, the air conditioning temperature was set at 16 degrees Celsius, which was too cold for the atmosphere at that time.

"Rizal, back off!" Hamzadi shouted.

The bodyguard suddenly turned 360°. His face was bruised blue. His eyes turned white. His mouth gaped unusually wide, as if his jaw had been broken with worms and caterpillars dropping from his mouths.

He lunged for the window pane, breaking it with his own head.

Pranggg!

The glass shattered. The bodyguard's hand reached out, trying to strangle Rizal. Rizal, with quick reflexes, dodged back and pulled out his police baton. He hit the bodyguard's arm.

Deg!

It sounded like being hit by a banana stick. The bodyguard didn't feel any pain. He continued to crawl out through the broken window with broken movements like a spider. Keep crawling.

"Shoot?" Rizal shouted, his hand already gripping the gun.

"No! That sound! Then Pandika will know we're here!" Hamzadi stopped him.

Hamzadi ran forward. He was holding a handful of coarse salt mixed with lime juice in his pocket.

"Hold him, Rizal!"

Rizal kicked the undead in the chest, knocking him backwards. Hamzadi took the opportunity to jump on the bodyguard's chest. He put a handful of salt and lime directly into the gaping mouth of the corpse. As then the mouth starts burning and melting.

Sreett... Hisshhh!

It sounded like meat being fried. White smoke came out of the corpse's mouth. Salt and lime were a combination of acids and minerals that were 'sharp' to spiritual entities. It severed the connection of the supernatural nerves.

The body of the guard shook violently, then went completely rigid. Shaking and trembling with black smoke keeps coming out.

"Have a safe journey, this is the body of a passenger. Pandika used the dead body to make his CCTV. Saving money on salary." Hamzadi said as he got up, wiping his hands on his pants.

Rizal looked at the body with a disgusted look.

"You're crazy, Hamzadi." Rizal said, actually he was shocked to see what had happened.

They stepped into the service lobby, pressed the cargo elevator button.

The journey up to Level 58 felt very long. The cargo elevator smelled of rust and grease. The lights in the elevator flashed every time they passed the floors with the number 4 (levels 4, 14, 24, 34, 44, 54).

"Why are the lights flashing?" Rizal asked, his gun still pointed at the elevator door.

"Because the number 4 in Chinese belief means death. And in a tall building like this, Pandika uses it as an energy checkpoint," Hamzadi explained. He was drawing a simple symbol on the elevator floor using a piece of chalk.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm making an anchor. If this elevator suddenly falls or takes us to the real world, this symbol will force it to stop in the real world. Old technique." Hamzadi explained with a thin smile. He knew Rizal didn't believe him at that moment.

Ting.

The elevator door opened on Level 58.

As soon as the door opened, they were greeted by a very fragrant smell. The smell of mellow and cambodia flowers was so strong, it was sickening and hypnotizing.

The corridors of the Penthouse were luxurious. The carpets were thick and scarlet, the walls were decorated with gold wallpaper. But something was wrong.

The abstract paintings hanging along the corridor were all hung upside down and some only half or croaked.

"Be careful, the science of the world is upside down," Hamzadi whispered.

They moved in a tactical formation with Rizal in front with a gun, Hamzadi behind guarding the blind corner.

As they approached the main door of Penthouse number 58-A, Rizal saw that the door was unlocked. In fact, it was quite loose, like it's ready for us to open and welcome us.

Rizal kicked the door open and rushed in.

"Police! Don't move!”

There was no one in the spacious living room.

Only the luxurious Italian furniture had been painted red. The white leather sofa was scratched. The 80-inch television was broken.

And in the middle of the living room, there was a giant statue made of animal bones arranged in the shape of a tree?

"This room is empty, Pandika is not there," Rizal reported after checking the kitchen and bathroom.

Hamzadi walked towards the bone statue. He touched it gently. The bones were hot.

"He just left. It hasn't been 10 minutes, but he left 'gifts' for anyone who came to visit." Hamzadi said.

Suddenly, the main door behind them closed by itself with a loud bang.

BAM!

The door lock turned by itself.

The chandelier on the ceiling began to swing violently. The shadows of the furniture on the floor began to lengthen. The shadows did not follow the laws of light. They moved on their own, crawling up the wall, forming long, thin human limbs.

"Rizal! Keep your shadow away!" Hamzadi shouted.

Rizal looked down. His own shadow tried to grab his leg. Rizal was startled, tried to kick his own shadow, but his leg felt heavy as if it was chained.

"Shoot the lamp!" Hamzadi ordered.

“Kill the shadow before it kills you!”

Rizal didn't ask much. He looked up and shot the crystal chandelier.

BANG! BANG!

The broken chandelier fell to the floor. The living room was now pitch black, lit only by the moonlight streaming in through the large floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

When the lights went out, the shadows on the floor disappeared (because there was no continuous source of light to cast sharp shadows). Rizal was immediately able to move his legs again.

"Wise," Rizal said in fear.

"It's not finished yet," Hamzadi said. He looked towards the glass windows overlooking KLCC.

In the reflection of the window, Hamzadi saw something that wasn't in the room. In the reflection of the mirror, there was a woman wearing a red kebaya standing in the corner of the room, holding a paper umbrella. Her face was pale, her long hair falling over her face and staring at Hamzadi.

But if Hamzadi physically turned to the corner of the room, there was no one there.

"She's playing dirty tricks on the mirror," Hamzadi whispered. This was a Mirror Ghost of Sad Ghost. A creature that only existed in the reflected world but could kill people in the real world if it managed to lure its prey inside.

"Rizal, don't look at that window! Don't look at anything that reflects!"

However, the warning came too late. Rizal, who was checking the perimeter, saw his reflection in a shiny ceramic vase. In the reflection, the woman in the red beret stood completely behind Rizal.

The woman's hand was holding Rizal's neck in the mirror. In the real world, Rizal suddenly choked. He held his neck, his legs kicking in the air. His body lifted slightly off the floor, as if being strangled by a ghost and suffocated.

"Arghh... hhkkk..." Rizal's face turned bright red. The gun slipped from his hand.

Hamzadi knew he couldn't touch the ghost because it didn't exist in this dimension or only in Rizal’s dream. He had to break the medium. Hamzadi reached for a nearby teak chair and swung it as hard as he could towards the ceramic vase.

Prak!

The vase broke. Rizal's grip on his neck loosened slightly, but not completely. The woman was now moving towards the reflection in the large glass window.

"She's moving towards the window!" Hamzadi shouted.

The woman in the window grinned, showing her black fangs. She opened her umbrella, and from inside the umbrella, thousands of glass needles came out that flew towards Rizal (in the reflection).

In the real world, Rizal's clothes suddenly tore and his skin began to bleed with fine cuts, as if he had been cut by a razor.

"It hurts! What is this?!" Rizal shouted while covering his face.

Hamzadi had no choice. He had to break the giant glass window. But the glass was thick, tempered glass was impact-resistant. Hamzadi pulled a rusty nail from his pocket.

"The art of installation: Pressure Points," Hamzadi muttered.

He didn't drive the nail. He ran to the window, looking for the weakest point in the glass. He placed the rusty nail there, and using a piece of poor iron he called a hammer, he knocked the nail out with one solid, precise blow.

Pliers!

The physical principle was very simple. High pressure at a small point could break the surface tension of the tempered glass.

CRACK!

The crack spread like lightning across the entire surface of the giant window.

"Shut up!" Hamzadi shouted.

The window exploded. Thousands of glass fragments fell, some falling into the rooms, some falling down the 58-story building. The night wind and heavy rain suddenly rushed into the Penthouse, bringing with them the sounds of the city.

The woman in the red robe screamed loudly as her mirror 'world' was destroyed. She was pulled out by the vacuum of air, floating outside the building, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

Rizal fell to his knees, stunned. His body was covered in fine cuts, but he was still alive.

"Are you okay, Tuan?" asked Hamzadi, pulling Rizal up.

"I feel like I just got crushed with a coconut grater. Next time, give me a little warning about this mirror ghost." Rizal groaned. He retrieved his gun.

"Come on. We have to get into Studio as fast as possible'," Hamzadi said, wasting no time.

They stepped into a room with a tightly closed door at the end of the Penthouse. Hamzadi kicked the door open (the lock had been broken by the impact). What they found inside shocked them both. This is not a painting studio. This is a surgical lab.

The walls of the room are covered with gruesome sketches of human anatomy. On the work table, there is a large map of Kuala Lumpur. On the map, Andika has marked several locations in red ink.

The National Arts Centre. The KL Tower. And the largest circle: the KLCC Sky Bridge. But what is even more terrifying is what hangs in the middle of the space. An array of small canvases that form a mosaic of faces. Panika's own face. More like Pandika's Room.

"This..." Hamzadi approached the desk. He found a black leather notebook. He opened it.

Pandika's scribbled handwriting like a chicken filled the page.

"Experiment 1: Failed. Not enough power."

"Experiment 2: Subject died too early."

"Final Plan: Unification of Two Worlds. Use the Sky Bridge as a needle. Poke through the sky, pierce the veil. Use more human souls to uplift the drawing."

Hamzadi read quickly. His eyes widened.

"Rizal, look at this," Hamzadi called.

Rizal approached.

"What do you mean by 'syringe'?"

"The Petronas Twin Towers that look like two giant needles sticking out of the sky, right? Pandika wants to use the tower's iron structure as an antenna. He wants to channel the power of the Master Drawing through the Sky Bridge," Hamzadi explained, his finger pointing at Pandika's sketch.

"For what?"

"To 'break the veil and open up the door to the other world.' He wants to merge the real world with the supernatural world forever. If he succeeds, ghosts will no longer be in the shadows. Ghosts will walk alongside us. The sky will be red forever. Kuala Lumpur will be the Land of the Dead."

Rizal's face turned pale.

"Crazy. This is no longer a crime. This is the end."

"When does he want to do it?" Rizal asked.

“Soon”.

Hamzadi looked at the clock on the wall that had stopped moving.

"Tonight is the night of the full moon. Supermoon. The most powerful date for the ritual. He's there. Now!" Hamzadi looked out the broken window of KLCC, which was beautifully dressed and bathed in lights.

Suddenly, the sound of police sirens could be heard again from below. Not for them, but the police were cordoning off the area because the window had been broken.

"We can't go out and go down, the police will arrest us. At that moment Pandika had already won," said Rizal, increasingly forgetting that he was a policeman.

Hamzadi looked at Rizal. A thin smile crossed his lips. The smile of someone who had no other choice.

"Who said we had to go down? We are still in a fight."

Hamzadi walked towards the broken window. A strong wind slapped his face. The distance between the Vortex Suites condominium and the adjacent office building wasn't that far, but at 58 stories high, it was like a bottomless pit.

"You're crazy," said Rizal, shaking his head. "Don't tell me you're going to jump."

"No. We're not going to jump," said Hamzadi. He pointed to the roof of the building next door that had a helipad. There, there was a private helicopter warming up, probably belonging to a VIP who wanted to escape the chaos at the National Arts Hall.

"We'll borrow the helicopter," said Hamzadi.

"Are you good at flying a helicopter?" asked Rizal doubtfully.

"No. But you're a special police unit officer. You should have learned the basics of flying, right?" Hamzadi claimed.

Rizal was silent. He looked at Hamzadi, then at the helicopter.

“Me? I can't. I've crashed in a simulator twice," said Rizal, his face showing clear fear.

"Good enough for me," replied Hamzadi.

Hamzadi reached for the safety Zipline (steel rope) that was kept in a glass box by the window, a fire safety device for tall buildings. He tied it to a concrete pole in space.

"Hold on tight, Rizal. Tonight we're going to be flying like birds."

Hamzadi twisted the end of the rope towards the railing of the roof of the next building, and after a few times the iron rod at the end of the rope got stuck firmly in the iron fence of the helipad.

Without waiting for Rizal to agree, Hamzadi tied his belt to the steel rope.

"See you on the other side!"

Hamzadi jumped without hesitation or fear. He hurtled across the gap between two skyscrapers, hanging only by a steel rope, with the view of the highway far below looking like a river of light.

Rizal watched his friend slide. He let out a long groan, adjusted his gun, and grabbed his own belt.

"If I die, I'll come after you, Hamzadi," Rizal shouted before jumping in the footsteps of the mad painter.

On the other side, on the roof of the helipad, the helicopter pilot was shocked to see two men slide from the sky in the pouring rain. The mission of counterattacking the luxury condo was over. Now, the race to the top of KLCC began. And this time, they would come from above

To be continued….