Chapter 2: Behind the Shadows: The Rescue
1226 Words
Amidst the heavy downpour, JM’s hearty dinner of hot instant noodles and steamed buns was interrupted by an urgent knock on the door. He sat still to listen if he really heard it. When the sound of the knocks became louder, he stood up to open and check who it was.
“JM!” Tia Lida exclaimed. “Help me! Please! She hasn’t returned yet!”
Tia Lida, as everyone in town calls her, was at his front door, shivering even under a raincoat and umbrella. He did not exactly know what she was talking about, and she was hysterical.
“Tia, Tia…” he said in a soft, calming voice, as he pulled her inside, oblivious that she was dripping wet. “What happened? Who are we talking about?”
“Samantha! She hasn’t returned yet!”
“Who’s Samantha? And where did she go?”
“Samantha, my niece! She went up to the old mansion on the hill….”
“Wait…What?! Why?”
“I’ll explain later! Please go get her! She said she’ll be back by four, but it’s already seven…and I can’t reach her phone!”
“Fine, Tia. Calm down. I’ll go and pick her up. She’s probably waiting for the rain to stop….”
“Please, JM…Take her down…Before the curse catches up with her….”
He shrugged that last statement off. The ‘curse’ that Tia Lida had been talking about was held to be true by the old townsfolks for almost century. Its story had been handed down like an heirloom to each generation. And as expected, it was handed down to him by his own grandfather. Interesting story for those with wild imaginations and creative minds—he could have profited from it if he were a writer—but for a police officer like him, it sounded like an alibi with a lot of holes of inconsistencies.
Leaving his dinner and Tia Lida behind, he mounted his motorcycle to fulfill his duty.
“Tia,” he said. “Wait here.”
He proceeded up the hill to the feared mansion. The dirt road that led to the house is slippery when wet, thus, he could not go in haste. He slowly and carefully traversed the path, coming upon the open wrought-iron gate. He went in and parked beside the SUV in front of the house.
Armed with a LED torch light, he went inside through the open front door and the first thing that caught his attention was….
A woman, unconscious on the floor, her hair covering her face, a white cloth covering half her body, and a chair on top of her. The light from her phone, which was a couple of feet away, was still on. He ran to her rescue, fearing the worst.
After lifting the chair and pulling the white cloth off of her, he brushed the hair off her face and saw a bruise on her right temple. He placed his index finger under her nose to check if she is breathing and released a sigh of relief upon knowing that she is. He then ran the light over her entire length to check for open wounds. Another sigh of relief upon seeing that there seemed to be none.
He lifted her up and lay her down on the long dining table. Aside from the bruise on her temple, there seemed to be no more injuries. But of course, everything would only be certain after she had been checked by a doctor.
He then checked the spot where she fell. He picked up her phone and turned the flashlight off before laying it down beside her on the table. When he raised his torch light to the ceiling, he saw thousands of bats flying in circles above them. He concluded that she might have been surprised by them, stumbled and began to fall, pulling at the chair for balance but instead it fell on her. And the bruise? She might have hit her head on something.
He continued surveying the house. It had been ten years since he last entered here. It was spookier than ever. The townsfolks had a good reason to fear it and label it haunted. That was why he was wondering why this lady—this Samantha—would dare. He flashed the light at the top of the staircase that led to the second floor.
“Who are you?” A soft voice of someone who sounded like she just woke up made him turn his head. She was still on the table, sitting, running her hand through her disheveled hair, and perhaps, wondering why her head is aching.
“I’m JM.” He answered as he walked back to her. “Tia Lida sent me to pick you up. How do you feel?”
“Okay, I guess…” She answered. “My head is aching, though.”
“That’s because you have a bruise on your head. You should have it checked when we get down.”
Samantha just stared at him.
“I don’t think you should drive. Can you ride a bike?”
“Huh?”
“I came here on my motorcycle. Can you ride?”
Silence.
She’s still knocked out. She’s lagging. That’s a really bad fall….
“I don’t want to take your car. I’m not very good on four-wheels and the road is too slippery and dark. But I’m a master of bikes, so you can count on me on that.”
Samantha pursed her lips.
“So? Can you?”
“Can I what?”
You're joking, right? Want me to knock you out again?
“Ride a bike…on the back….” He released a sigh of frustration.
Silence, still. This was getting tiresome.
“Or we can stay here for the night….”
“No!” She exclaimed. “Yes!”
“No…Yes? What?” He answered, a little confused.
“No, I don’t want to stay here for the night! Yes, I can ride a bike!” She explained, as she scrambled to get off the table.
Hmm…Power surge.
“Good to know….”
Samantha rushed pass him, scrambling on her phone, then turned around as she reached the door, as if remembering something. She walked pass him again, back towards the spot where she fell, as if looking for something.
“What is it?” He asked.
“The diary…I was reading it. I’m sure I was holding it when I fell….”
“I didn’t see any.” He answered.
They looked for it together—on the birthing chair where she sat, on the spot where she fell, on the table where she lay—but they did not find it.
“We can look for it tomorrow when we come back to get your car.” He suggested.
“Okay.” She agreed with a heavy sigh.
They went out of the house together. He handed her a raincoat and a helmet and helped her put them on, after putting on his. He mounted his motorcycle and kickstarted it, and helped Samantha hop on behind him.
“Hold on tight.” He told her. She scrambled for some part of the motorcycle to hold onto.
“I mean…to me.”
Samantha apprehensively wrapped her arms loosely around his waist as he kicked the stand back. The motorcycle rolled down the wet, slippery path towards the town, away from the feared, deteriorating mansion.
- Writer
