The last Message

CHAPTER TWO : SEVENTEEN DAYS MISSING

Seventeen days earlier, Michael Hayes had been standing outside Daniel Carter's house, laughing at a joke that wasn't particularly funny.

It was a Saturday morning, and the sun had barely risen above the rooftops. The neighborhood was slowly coming alive. A woman across the street swept dust from her doorstep, a motorcycle rattled past, and the smell of freshly baked bread drifted from the small shop at the corner.

Daniel opened his front door and found Michael leaning against the gate with his hands in his pockets.

"You're late," Michael announced.

Daniel glanced at his wristwatch. "It's eight fifteen."

"Exactly. We agreed on eight."

"And you agreed to stop complaining about everything."

Michael grinned. "I never agreed to that."

Daniel shook his head and stepped outside, locking the door behind him.

They had been friends since they were eleven years old. Their friendship had survived embarrassing hairstyles, terrible school projects, arguments over football, and countless promises that neither of them took seriously.

They knew each other's habits so well that silence was rarely uncomfortable between them.

But that morning, Michael seemed different.

He kept checking his phone.

Every few minutes, he would glance at the screen, frown, and put it away. Whenever Daniel asked what was wrong, Michael gave the same answer.

"Nothing."

By the fourth time, Daniel had had enough.

"Bro, if you don't want to go, just say so."

Michael looked up. "What?"

"You've been staring at that phone since you arrived. Is something wrong?"

"No."

"Then why do you look like someone is about to arrest you?"

Michael laughed, but the sound lacked its usual ease.

"You're imagining things."

"Maybe."

Daniel let the matter drop.

It was the first mistake he would regret.

They spent the morning at a small restaurant near the shopping district. Michael ordered more food than he could finish, and Daniel complained about the amount of money he was wasting.

For a while, everything felt normal.

Then Michael's phone rang.

He looked at the screen and immediately stood.

"I need to take this."

Daniel watched him walk outside.

Through the glass window, he could see Michael standing beside the entrance, his back turned. He held the phone against his ear and kept looking over his shoulder.

The conversation lasted less than two minutes.

When Michael returned, his face had changed.

"Who was that?" Daniel asked.

"Nobody important."

Daniel raised an eyebrow.

Michael sat down and pushed his unfinished food away.

"I need to leave."

"What? We just got here."

"Something came up."

"What kind of something?"

Michael looked at him.

For a moment, Daniel thought his friend was about to tell him the truth.

Instead, Michael reached across the table and picked up his silver ring, turning it around his finger.

"Daniel, if someone asks you about me, don't tell them anything you don't know."

Daniel stared at him.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Just forget I said it."

"Michael, seriously. What's going on?"

Michael stood up.

"I'll call you later."

He walked out before Daniel could respond.

Daniel remained at the table, watching his friend disappear into the crowd.

He was annoyed, but not worried.

Not yet.

He assumed Michael would call that evening and explain everything.

He always did.

Except this time, he didn't.

---

By Sunday morning, Daniel had sent Michael six messages.

By Sunday evening, he had called him nine times.

On Monday, he went to Michael's house.

Michael's mother opened the door. She looked exhausted, as though she had spent the entire night awake.

"Daniel," she said quietly. "Have you heard from him?"

The question unsettled him.

"No. I thought he was here."

Her expression changed.

Michael had left home on Saturday afternoon after telling his mother he had somewhere to go. He had promised to return before dinner.

He never came back.

At first, his family assumed he had stayed with a friend. When his phone stopped connecting, they contacted people he knew.

Nobody had seen him.

By Tuesday, they had reported him missing.

Daniel gave the police everything he knew about Michael's last known movements. He told them about the restaurant, the mysterious phone call, and Michael's strange warning.

They wrote everything down.

Then they asked him the question he had been dreading.

"Was your friend involved in any trouble?"

Daniel shook his head.

"Not that I know of."

The officer looked up.

"Not that you know of?"

Daniel hesitated.

He remembered Michael's expression at the restaurant. The way he had looked over his shoulder. The warning about people asking questions.

"No," Daniel said finally. "I don't think so."

It was the second mistake he would regret.

---

On Wednesday, Daniel began searching places they used to visit together.

The basketball court behind their old school.

The restaurant where they celebrated their examination results.

The little electronics shop where Michael once spent an entire afternoon arguing with the owner over a broken pair of headphones.

Nothing.

He even visited the abandoned building they had discovered years earlier.

The place stood behind an old warehouse, hidden by overgrown bushes and a rusted fence. The entrance was partly blocked by fallen branches.

Daniel called Michael's number while standing outside.

The phone rang twice.

Then a recorded voice informed him that the subscriber was unavailable.

He tried again.

Nothing.

Frustrated, Daniel kicked a loose stone and walked away.

He didn't notice the man sitting inside a parked car across the road.

The man watched him leave.

Then he picked up his own phone.

"He's looking," he said.

A pause followed.

"Yes. He went to the building."

Another pause.

The man glanced toward the abandoned structure.

"Do you want me to stop him?"

The answer was brief.

"No. Not yet."

The call ended.

---

By the end of the first week, the disappearance had begun to change Daniel.

He slept badly. He lost interest in the things he usually enjoyed, and he found himself checking his phone even when he knew there would be nothing new.

James Anderson tried to distract him.

"You're going to make yourself sick," James said one afternoon as they sat outside a café.

Daniel barely looked up.

"Have you heard anything?"

James sighed.

"Daniel, we've been through this."

"I'm asking a question."

"And I've told you I haven't heard anything."

Daniel studied his friend's face.

James had known Michael almost as long as Daniel had. They had spent years together, and the three of them had once been practically inseparable.

But since Michael disappeared, James had become impatient whenever his name came up.

"Do you think he's alive?" Daniel asked.

James looked away.

"I don't know."

"That's not what I asked."

"What do you want me to say?"

"The truth."

James stood abruptly.

"Maybe you need to accept that we might never get an answer."

Daniel stared at him.

"How can you say that?"

"Because someone has to be realistic."

James walked away before Daniel could respond.

Daniel remained seated, watching him cross the street.

For the first time, he wondered whether grief was making him suspicious of everyone.

Or whether there was something about Michael's disappearance that James didn't want him to discover.

---

On the seventeenth day, Daniel received the message.

At 11:47 p.m.

He had read it so many times that he could remember every word without looking at his phone.

Daniel, whatever happens, don't trust them.

Then came the warning.

Don't go to the police.

And finally, the photograph.

The abandoned building.

The metal door.

The code.

R-1407.

Daniel pulled his hoodie tighter around himself as he walked through the nearly deserted streets.

He had left home without telling anyone where he was going.

He knew it was reckless.

He knew the messages could be a trap.

But if Michael was alive, Daniel couldn't simply sit in his bedroom waiting for another notification.

He needed answers.

The abandoned building appeared at the end of the road, its dark outline barely visible against the cloudy sky.

Daniel stopped at the entrance.

The rusted fence was still there.

So were the overgrown bushes.

But something was different.

A narrow path had been cleared through the vegetation.

Someone had been there recently.

Daniel took out his phone and opened the photograph again.

The corridor.

The broken ceiling light.

The metal door.

R-1407.

He looked at the building, then at the path leading inside.

His phone vibrated.

Daniel froze.

A new message had appeared from the unknown number.

He opened it.

You're early.

His blood ran cold.

Slowly, he raised his head and looked toward the building.

A light flickered somewhere behind one of the broken windows.

Then it went out.

Daniel's phone vibrated again.

Don't turn around.

He stood perfectly still.

For several seconds, he could hear nothing but his own breathing and the distant sound of traffic.

Then he heard footsteps behind him.

Someone was approaching.

And whoever it was knew exactly where he had gone.

END OF CHAPTER TWO