Chapter 3:The Patterns

Aaron walked into the café, scanning the booths until he spotted Sarah.

She looked like hell. Dark circles under her eyes, fingers drumming against her coffee cup.

She didn't sleep either.

Neither did he.

He slid into the seat across from her, dropping his phone on the table. "Okay. Talk to me."

Sarah exhaled. "The whispering. The… presence. You felt it too."

Aaron nodded. "Yeah. In my apartment. Clear as day. My name, like it was right behind me."

Sarah swallowed. "Same. But here's the thing, Aaron—my front door was unlocked."

Aaron stiffened. "You locked it."

"I know."

A long silence.

Aaron ran a hand down his face. Something was wrong with this case.

"Look," he said, leaning forward. "This started after we went into those woods. We need to go back. In daylight. No surprises."

Sarah didn't look convinced. "And do what? Stare at trees until we go crazy?"

Aaron sighed. "You think I have a better plan?"

Sarah sat back, chewing on her lip. Then, after a pause—

"I checked old case files."

Aaron raised a brow. "For what?"

"Patterns."

She pulled out a notepad, flipping through it. "Disappearances. Unsolved cases. You know what I found?"

She slid the notepad toward him.

Aaron frowned, reading.

Seven missing persons. All near the same location.

Sarah tapped the last name. "All of them were last seen near the edge of that forest. And Aaron? No bodies. No leads. Just… gone."

Aaron stared at the names, unease creeping up his spine.

Seven people, vanishing in the same place they had just been.

"And now we're hearing voices."

Sarah nodded slowly. "We're next, aren't we?"

"Come on don't say that... we'll figure something out" Aaron replied.

But deep down, he was starting to believe the same thing.

He tapped his fingers against the table, staring at the list of names.

"We need someone who knows more about this place."

Sarah sighed. "That's the problem. No one talks about that forest. It's like it doesn't exist to them."

Aaron thought for a moment, then his eyes narrowed. "Not everyone."

Sarah frowned. "What do you mean?"

Aaron pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. "There's a guy. Retired detective. Malcolm Hayes. He worked missing persons before he quit out of nowhere."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "And you think he knows something?"

Aaron looked up at her. "He was the lead investigator on three of these cases." He tapped the notepad. "Then, out of nowhere, he filed for early retirement and disappeared from public life. No interviews, no statements, nothing."

Sarah leaned in. "You think whatever he found made him quit?"

Aaron nodded. "I think it scared the hell out of him."

Sarah exhaled. "And you think he'll talk to us?"

Aaron smirked. "Guess we'll find out."

Two Hour Later – Malcolm Hayes' Residence

Malcolm Hayes' house sat on the outskirts of town, half-hidden by overgrown trees. The windows were covered, the paint peeling.

Sarah and Aaron stood at the front door.

"He's not answering his phone," Aaron muttered, knocking again.

No response.

Sarah glanced around. The place looked abandoned—no signs of life.

Aaron hesitated, then reached for the doorknob. It turned easily.

Unlocked.

They exchanged a look.

Sarah exhaled. "This is a bad idea."

Aaron pushed the door open.

The air inside was stale. Dust clung to every surface. Papers were scattered across the floor. A chair lay on its side.

Like someone had left in a hurry… or been taken.

Sarah stepped forward, scanning the mess. "This doesn't look like retirement."

Aaron knelt, picking up a photograph from the floor. It was old, faded.

A group of people standing in front of the forest.

A younger Malcolm Hayes stood in the center. But Aaron's eyes locked onto something else.

In the background.

Barely visible among the trees.

A shadow.

Sarah's breath hitched. "Aaron… look at the faces."

Aaron frowned, examining the people in the photo.Then his stomach dropped.

They were the missing persons.

Every single one.

And the photo was dated a week before their disappearances.

Aaron and Sarah exchanged a look.

"He knew."

Before they could react, a noise came from the back of the house.

A slow, deliberate creak.

They weren't alone.

Aaron and Sarah exchanged a look.

The noise had come from the back of the house—a slow, deliberate creak.

Like someone moving.

Or something.

Aaron gripped his gun, nodding at Sarah. She mirrored the movement, stepping lightly as they moved deeper into the house.

The air was thick, suffocating. The silence stretched.

Then—

Another sound.

A faint shuffling, just beyond a half-open door.

Aaron signaled to Sarah. Three… two… one—

He kicked the door open.

The room was dark.

Dust hung in the air, caught in the slivers of light from a half-boarded window.

And in the corner—

A figure.

Hunched. Trembling.

Aaron's finger tightened on the trigger. "Malcolm Hayes?"

The man flinched.

Slowly, he turned his head.

His face was gaunt, sunken eyes darting between them. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in years.

Then, in a ragged voice—

"Nooo...no..no...you shouldn't be here."

Sarah stepped forward. "We just want to talk."

Malcolm let out a dry, hollow laugh mixed with sorrow. His hands were shaking.

"You think talking will save you?" He exhaled sharply. "You've already heard it, haven't you?"

Aaron and Sarah exchanged a look.

"The whispers," Malcolm continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "The dreams. The feeling like you're never really alone."

Sarah hesitated. "You know what's happening to us?"

Malcolm's expression darkened. He nodded, his gaze flicking to the photograph in Aaron's hand.

"It started with us, too. We thought it was just… nightmares. Tricks of the mind."

Aaron crouched beside him, showing him a wriggled old photo"What happened to them? The others in this photo?"

Malcolm's lips trembled. He wouldn't look at them.

"Gone."

Sarah's stomach twisted. "Gone where?"

Malcolm shook his head. His breathing was uneven, his fingers gripping the edge of his chair like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

"It takes you. First, your mind. Then your body." He exhaled shakily. "It hollows you out, piece by piece."

Aaron's grip on the photo tightened. "What is it?"

Malcolm's voice was almost too quiet to hear.

"It doesn't have a name. But it's older than anything you know. It watches, it waits, and when it finds someone who strays too close—"

A loud bang cut through the air.

The front door. Slammed shut.

Aaron whirled, gun raised.

Sarah's pulse skyrocketed,something was in the house.

Malcolm's face went pale. His entire body tensed.

"It knows you're here.We are going to die."

" Shut up and wait here"..Aaron warned.

Aaron and Sarah spun toward the hallway.

The light flickered.Then—

A shadow moved.

Not a person. Not human.

It stretched, shifting unnaturally against the walls.

And then it spoke.

A voice neither of them recognized.

"You shouldn't have come."

The same words Malcolm had said.

But it wasn't Malcolm's voice.

"Move!" Aaron grabbed Malcolm by the arm, hauling him up.

Sarah was already at the door, her hand on the knob.

Then—she hesitated.

The handle was cold. Ice-cold.

"Aaron—"

He yanked the door open before she could finish.

Strangely,it was already evening.

The three of them stumbled onto the porch, breathing in the night air.

Aaron's hand hovered over his holster, scanning the area. The wind had died. The air felt thicker.

Then—

Sarah froze.

"Aaron…" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Aaron followed her gaze.

A figure. Walking toward them.

At first, it seemed… normal. A man, his posture slumped, his pace slow.

But then Aaron saw it.

Behind him—utter darkness.

Not the darkness of night.

Something else.

It moved with him, clinging to him like a second shadow. Too dense. Too unnatural.

Aaron's grip tightened around his gun. That wasn't a man.

Malcolm sagged in terror. "No… no, no, no—"

The figure's head snapped up.

Hollow eyes locked onto them.

Then—it ran.

Not human. Not natural.

A sudden, jerking sprint—arms and legs moving in a grotesque, unnatural way.

"Sarah, the car!" Aaron barked, already raising his gun.

Sarah didn't argue. She bolted toward the vehicle, fumbling for the keys.

The thing snarled. A wet, guttural sound that sent ice down Aaron's spine.

Then—Aaron fired.

The first bullet hit. A direct shot to the chest.

But it didn't stop.

Aaron fired again. And again.

Each shot tore through rotting flesh, but the thing kept running.

Malcolm was hyperventilating.

"It doesn't die!" he choked. "It doesn't die!"

Aaron grabbed Malcolm and shoved him into the car.

Sarah revved the engine just as Aaron dove into the passenger seat.

"Drive!"

Sarah slammed the gas.

The tires screeched. The car lurched forward, kicking up dust.

For a moment—silence.

The thing had disappeared.

Aaron exhaled sharply.

"Did we lose i—"

A sickening thud.

The roof dented inward.

The rear glass shattered from the impact.

Aaron barely had time to react before a clawed hand burst through Sarah's window.

She screamed.

The car swerved violently.

Aaron spun, firing blindly upward.

The thing shrieked, lunging on the bonnet its grotesque, rotting body pressed against the windshield.

Hollow eyes stared inside.

It gnawed at the glass, its jaw unhinging like a snake's.

The metal groaned.

It was tearing through.

Sarah jerked the wheel.

The car veered toward the treeline.

Branches slashed at the windows.

Then—impact.

The vehicle slammed into a tree.

The airbag exploded into Aaron's face.

For a second—nothing.

Just the ringing in his ears.

Then he heard it.

That same wet snarl.

It was still here.

And it wasn't done yet.

Aaron gasped, blood dripping from his forehead. His ears were still ringing, but he forced himself to move.

He shoved the car door open, stumbling out.

Silence.

The night was still.

The thing was gone.

Sarah groaned inside the car, pushing herself upright. "Aaron?"

"I'm fine," he muttered, wiping the blood from his face. He wasn't. But right now, that didn't matter.

Aaron staggered toward the trunk. His hands were shaking as he popped it open.

Inside—his double-barrel shotgun.

One round left.

"You better make this count," he muttered to himself, loading the shell.

Behind him, Sarah had climbed out of the car, rubbing her bruised ribs. "Do you see it?"

Aaron scanned the darkness.

Nothing.

But they both knew it was there. Watching. Waiting.

He glanced at Malcolm. The man was still slumped in the backseat, shaking like a leaf.

"Malcolm!" Sarah snapped, trying to jolt him back to reality.

He barely reacted. His eyes were unfocused, lost.

"He's useless," Aaron growled. "If it comes back, it's on us."

Sarah exhaled sharply. "Then we stand together."

Aaron gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on the shotgun.

Then—

A sound.

A low, guttural growl from the trees.

Aaron turned sharply, shotgun raised.

Something shifted in the darkness.

Then—it stepped forward.

The same rotting creature.

Its body twisted unnaturally, bones jutting out at odd angles.

Its hollow eyes locked onto them.

And then—it moved.A sudden, unnatural sprint, closing the distance in seconds.

"Aaron!" Sarah shouted.

Aaron took aim.

One shot.One chance.

He pulled the trigger.

The shotgun roared, blasting the creature's chest apart.

It lurched back, screeching.

For a moment, Aaron thought it was over.

Then—it started moving again.

Flesh knitting back together before his eyes.

"No… no, no, no—" Malcolm whimpered.

Sarah grabbed Aaron's arm. "We have to go!"

But Aaron couldn't move.

Because for the first time—true fear settled in.

This thing wasn't just a monster.

It couldn't die.

"Run!" Aaron suddenly barked, grabbing Malcolm by the arm.

Malcolm's legs refused to move. His body trembled violently, his breaths coming out in short, panicked gasps.

"Move, damn it!" Aaron gritted his teeth, hoisting Malcolm onto his back. The man's weight slowed him down, but they had no choice.

Sarah kept firing, her bullets barely slowing the creature.

It lurched toward them, its body reknitting itself, flesh reforming like some sick nightmare.

Aaron didn't look back. He sprinted, his boots pounding against the dirt road as Sarah followed close behind, emptying her clip.

The thing didn't stop.

It never stopped.

Then—

It did.

Right as the first glow of dawn touched the horizon.

The creature froze.

Aaron staggered to a halt, breath ragged, staring.

It stood there—motionless.

Its grotesque, rotting form was still, its hollow eyes fading away like a flame being snuffed out.

Sarah, panting, reloaded her gun, her hands shaking.

"Why… why isn't it moving?"

Aaron gently lowered Malcolm to the ground and took Sarah's gun. He stepped forward cautiously, the morning light casting long shadows across the empty road.

The creature's body didn't twitch.

Didn't breathe.

Just stood there.

Aaron moved closer, his gun trained on its head.

Up close, he could see its decayed skin, the unnatural loss of bones beneath its flesh.

But its hollow eyes were gone.

No movement. No reaction.

It was… dead.

Sarah's voice was hoarse. "The sun… you think that's what stopped it?"

Aaron exhaled, gripping the gun tighter.

"Maybe."