The Coded Warning

The numbers stared back at Liam, a cryptic sequence scrawled on the small slip of paper. He held it up to the dim light of Sam's living room, turning it this way and that, as if a different angle might reveal some hidden meaning. He yawned, the fatigue of the day weighing heavily on him. "What do you make of them?" he asked, his voice low, his eyelids drooping.

Sam, perched on the edge of the worn armchair, leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration. "They could be anything," he said, his voice thoughtful. "Coordinates, a code, a phone number... even a date."

"But why leave them with my phone?" Liam asked, his gaze fixed on the paper. "And why return my phone at all?"

"That's the million-dollar question," Sam replied, his eyes scanning the numbers. "Let's try breaking them down. Are there any patterns? Any repeating sequences?"

They spread the paper out on the coffee table, the numbers illuminated by the soft glow of the table lamp. Liam's phone, now fully charged, lay beside the paper, its dark screen a silent observer.

"There's this," Liam said, pointing to a set of three digits that appeared twice in the sequence. "And these two numbers are consecutive."

Sam nodded, scribbling notes on a pad of paper. "It's a start. But we need more. We need context."

He picked up Liam's phone and powered it on. The screen flickered to life, displaying a series of missed calls and messages. "Let's see if there's anything on here that can shed some light," Sam said, his fingers dancing across the screen.

The phone's data was a jumbled mess of notifications, emails, and app alerts. But as Sam delved deeper, he found something peculiar: a series of corrupted files, their names garbled and their contents unreadable.

"Look at this," Sam said, his voice tinged with unease. "These files... they've been tampered with. It's like someone tried to erase them, but only partially succeeded."

Liam leaned over, his eyes scanning the screen. "Any idea what they were?"

"No," Sam replied, shaking his head. "But I can try to recover them. It might take some time, but if there's anything useful in there, we'll find it."

He connected the phone to his laptop, initiating a data recovery program. The screen filled with lines of code and progress bars, a silent testament to the digital excavation underway.

"In the meantime," Liam said, his gaze returning to the slip of paper, "we need to figure out these numbers. And we need to get that CCTV footage."

"Right," Sam said, his eyes still fixed on the laptop screen. "I'll call in a few favours. See if I can get my hands on the tapes without raising too many red flags."

"You should sleep, Liam," Sam said, noticing his friend's heavy eyes. "I'll stay up and work on this."

"Are you sure?" Liam asked, yawning again. "You're not going to sleep?"

"I want to recover this data and get started on the CCTV footage," Sam replied. "I've already contacted the authorities and now I'm waiting for their reply for the permission. It's just a matter of getting the tapes."

Liam went to sleep, and Sam continued working.

A little while later, his phone rang, and Sam answered, his voice low and professional.

"Detective Reynolds speaking," a gruff voice answered from the other end.

"This is Sam," Sam replied, "We spoke earlier about the CCTV footage from the police station."

"Ah, yes, Sam. I've pulled the tapes. What exactly are you looking for?"

"The footages from the main entrance, and all the surrounding areas leading to it, specifically around the time my friend's phone was found," Sam explained. "We're trying to identify who brought it there."

"Alright. I'll get those files sent over to you. It might take a moment to compress and transfer. Do you have a secure email address I can send them to?"

"Yes, I'll send it to you now," Sam replied. "Thank you, Detective."

"No problem. Just remember, these footages are for your investigation only. Don't go sharing it with the whole world."

"Understood," Sam assured him.

Sam worked late into the night, the soft glow of the laptop screen illuminating his focused expression. He successfully recovered the data, meticulously sorting through the files. Most were innocuous, but one file stood out, its name a string of seemingly random characters. When he opened it, his eyes widened in surprise.

He immediately went to the guest room where Liam was sleeping. But as he approached, he heard a series of low groans emanating from within. He panicked, his heart pounding in his chest. "Liam? Are you alright?" he knocked on the door, his voice urgent.

The groaning stopped abruptly, and Liam's voice, thick with sleep, answered, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bad dream."

"Can I come in?" Sam asked, his hand still on the doorknob.

"Yeah, sure," Liam replied.Sam entered the room, his eyes widening at the sight before him. The room was in disarray, the sheets tangled, and the bedside lamp overturned. Liam wasn't in bed, but huddled on the floor in the corner, his face pale and his eyes wide with fear.

"Liam, what happened?" Sam rushed to his side, his voice filled with concern.

"I... I had a dream," Liam stammered, his voice trembling. "A bizarre dream. I couldn't wake up fully. I was stuck in a state between the dream and reality. When you came, it... it pulled me out." He looked up at Sam, his eyes filled with fear. "I was afraid of what might have happened if you hadn't come. Sam... am I, going crazy?"

"You're not going crazy," Sam assured him, his voice gentle. "Just a nightmare."

"Do you want a sleeping pill?" Sam asked.

Liam nodded, and Sam went to retrieve a pill and a glass of water. He returned and helped Liam back into bed. "You'll sleep well now," Sam assured him.

Liam looked at him with a hint of concern. "How... why do you have sleeping pills?"

Sam gave him a sad smile, quickly replaced by a normal one. "Don't worry about it," he said. "

The reason I came was to show you something about the numbers. But we can do that in the morning. Hand me the paper will you?"

Liam handed him the slip of paper, and Sam left the room, his mind racing with questions.

Back in the living room, the soft ticking of the clock filled the silence. Sam meticulously wrote down a series of numbers from the recovered file, combining them with the sequence from the slip of paper. Coordinates, a date, a time – it was like a coded message. He took out the old map they had obtained from the figure in the abandoned subway station.

He stood up suddenly, a gasp escaping his lips. "Yes! I was right!"

The coded numerical inscriptions were a message, telling them about a near future event. The coordinates matched a location on one of the thresholds marked on the map. To his horror, it was a fully functional company building – the headquarters of a global logistics and transportation company.

The thresholds were gateways where souls were sacrificed and fed to the entity. That could mean a genocide!

Sam wanted to be absolutely sure he wasn't mistaken, for it was a very big deal. The message could be a cruel prank, or even a trap, and yet it could also be a heads up, a warning about a planned mass scale murder.

He sat back down, trying to view the files sent by Detective Reynolds.

He opened each one, carefully observing every movement, every living creature passing by. He saw the figure who put Liam's phone in front of the police station. Unfortunately, the figure wore a cap, a mask, and clothings covering their entire body.

Sam looked hopelessly at the directions the figure went, disappearing away from a nearby building after hopping into a van. The van was driven in a direction away from the CCTV, therefore the number plate wasn't shown.

Sam was stressed, thinking it was a dead end. Then he suddenly noticed something. He closed the current file and opened another one.

Squinting his eyes, he looked up at one corner of the screen. He waited for the right moment, and paused exactly when a glass wall from a cafe close to the police station reflected the van's license plate number when it drove by.

He carefully noted down the details after flipping the plate mentally as it appeared inverted from the reflection.

Sam was pleased. Now he could check from the registration details, the owner of the vehicle, the model, year, and so many other information.

He went online through a website, and entered the details. But his access got denied for legal protection of individual laws. After debating whether he should hack into the database, he decided it was best to do it the legal way for now, just like how he had obtained the CCTV footages. They'd have to go to the transport department physically for a detailed report, and that too would be given only because of their professions.

He sighed and stood up, but as he took a step, he nearly stumbled, exhaustion catching up to him. He glanced at the clock: 3:17 AM. He decided to sleep, the weight of his discovery pressing heavily on him.