Seo-ah nods, her voice firm but calm. “Yes, he is from Seoul. He helped me survive. I was with him, hiding… but then they caught me.”

  CHAPTER - 8, PART - 2

  Bhuj, India

  Winter afternoon.

  The sky is clear, pale blue. Sunlight falls softly over Bhuj.

  But the streetlights are still on.

  Yellow bulbs glowing against daylight.

  Wrong.

  Cars line both sides of the road, parked neatly. No broken glass. No skid marks. No sign of panic.

  Shops are shut. Signboards hang motionless. An ATM booth light glows inside.

  The city has power.

  It just doesn’t have people.

  He walks down the center of the road.

  Hands inside his jacket pockets.

  Measured steps.

  The faint hum of electricity from the streetlights is the only constant sound.

  A traffic signal ahead continues its cycle.

  Red.

  Yellow.

  Green.

  For no one.

  He slows.

  Looks at the streetlight above him — still burning in broad daylight.

  That means nobody came to switch anything off.

  Nobody came at all.

  His jaw tightens.

  “Empty… f*cking empty.”

  The words sound smaller under the open sky.

  He walks to a parked car. Looks inside.

  Seat adjusted.

  Door locked.

  No belongings.

  As if people stepped out in perfect coordination… and vanished.

  A dry winter breeze moves lightly through the road — not strong, just enough to shift a loose paper near the curb.

  The city feels paused.

  Mid-sentence.

  He looks toward the inner lanes of Bhuj.

  And keeps walking.

  Kashmir, India

  Snow crunches under their boots.

  Irfan walks quietly, calm and steady. His jacket rides slightly back on his shoulders, hands near his pockets. Nothing else gives him away.

  Arifa follows close, backpack snug. Her breath fogs in the icy air, but she isn’t afraid anymore — not while he’s here.

  The frozen valley stretches endlessly. Silent. Deceptively peaceful.

  A faint echo rolls across the snow.

  “Wh… what is that?” Arifa whispers, voice trembling.

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  Irfan doesn’t answer. He simply slides his left hand inside his jacket pocket, adjusting it slightly. Calm. Controlled.

  The echo intensifies.

  Two figures emerge from the snow — prisoners.

  “What?!” Arifa gasps. Fear flashes across her face.

  Irfan’s eyes remain calm, emotionless.

  Then, in one seamless motion, he pulls the pistol out from inside his jacket — smooth, silent.

  He switches it from left to right hand, reloads with practiced precision.

  Two sharp bangs crack the air.

  Both prisoners collapse instantly, bullets striking their foreheads.

  Arifa freezes. Shock paints her face.

  Irfan remains expressionless, watching them fall.

  Slowly, he turns to Arifa.

  “Let's go,” he says.

  She doesn’t question. Fear still tight in her chest. She follows.

  Snow continues to fall, swallowing the echoes of gunfire.

  From the left, a sixty-year-old man notices them.

  Arifa tugs at Irfan’s sleeve.

  “Irfan…” she says, her voice tight.

  He glances back.

  “This… this place is near Zoon’s mention,” she continues, eyes darting.

  “Where is the old man’s mention?” Irfan asks calmly.

  “Over there, on the left side,” Arifa replies.

  Irfan turns toward that direction.

  Through the frozen trees, he spots the man — the mention perched atop a snow-laden branch.

  He narrows his eyes, focusing carefully.

  “The old man standing there… is he Zoon?” he asks, voice even, controlled.

  Arifa leans forward, fear and urgency in her posture.

  “Y-Yes… that’s him. That’s Zoon,” she whispers.

  Irfan’s gaze moves from her eyes to the surrounding area, calm, unhesitating, fearless.

  From afar, Zoon notices them too — his eyes locking onto Irfan.

  Night blankets the city.

  The streets of Saltillo are empty. Silent. No lights. No movement. The usual hum of life is gone.

  A train glides quietly along the tracks, cutting through the darkness. Its wheels whisper against the rails — the only sound in the still night.

  The city stretches toward the border with Nuevo León, calm, abandoned, frozen in an unnatural pause.

  Shadows fall long and distorted under the faint moonlight. Buildings stand motionless. Windows dark. No flicker of electricity, no life stirring inside.

  The train moves steadily, carrying its unseen passengers through a city that feels like it has been erased.

  Saltillo waits and silent.

  Seoul, South Korea

  Dae-hyun slumps against a cold, cracked wall, the dust of the abandoned space clinging to his clothes. His chest burns—not from physical pain, but from frustration that claws at him like fire.

  He thinks of Seo-ah. He thinks of his family.

  I ran… I left them… I didn’t protect them…

  His fists clench. Eyes dart to the broken windows, sunlight slicing through the gloom, mocking him with its calm.

  I have to. I have to go. I must protect her… my family… no matter the cost.

  The world outside whispers in silence. Birds chirp. The wind brushes past empty crates. Peace reigns in the day, but inside him, a storm rages.

  I want… I want to protect them… I want justice… I want justice!

  His voice is barely a whisper, yet it echoes against the hollow walls, carrying his promise and his pain.

  Dae-hyun rises, shoulders squared. Determination replaces despair. The path is dangerous, the world unpredictable—but he will not falter.

  10:00 A.M.

  Mexico

  The train has stopped at Soto la Marina railway station in Tamaulipas.

  Passengers spill onto the platform. Dust swirls in the morning sun.

  They leave the train and step outside the station.

  An open car waits nearby. Without hesitation, Clive slides into the driver’s seat, engine rumbling to life.

  On the other side, Mateo finds his car. Swift, precise, he climbs in.

  Eliza does the same, calm and focused, taking her seat in a third car.

  Three groups, three cars. Engines roar. Tires crunch on gravel. The convoy starts moving, leaving the quiet station behind, heading into the unknown.

  12:00 P.M.

  Altamira, Mexico

  The cars arrive at Altamira, the port city where massive ships dock and depart.

  They leave the vehicles and walk toward the docks. The massive vessels loom silently, shadows stretching across the empty pier.

  Robin looks at Clive, doubt clear in his eyes.

  "Do you really think we’ll find someone to operate a ship here?"

  Clive meets his gaze, calm but determined.

  "I think we will."

  The port is empty, eerily still. Every step echoes on the concrete, every shadow sharp. Danger could be hiding anywhere.

  They all spread out across the empty port, searching for anyone who might be here.

  Nayeli walks beside Eliza, scanning the shadows between the massive ships.

  Eliza glances at her.

  "Do you really think we’ll find someone? I mean… seven billion people have been abducted."

  Nayeli shrugs, hesitant but determined.

  "I don’t think so… but we might as well try."

  On the other side of the port, Clive slips into a storage room, the metal door groaning behind him.

  A sound—soft, deliberate—catches his attention. His body stiffens. Every sense sharpens.

  He moves deeper into the room, eyes scanning. And then he sees him:

  A man sits against the wall, tucked into the corner near the door. His posture screams fear, small and tense.

  Clive steps closer. The man’s eyes meet his—and instantly, terror spikes. The man recoils, shrinking further into the shadows.

  The room is silent. But in that silence, the tension is deafening.

  After a while, Clive sits down in front of him. The tension has eased; he is no longer afraid.

  Clive leans forward, eyes steady.

  "So… you know how to operate and drive a ship?"

  "Yeah," he replies quietly.

  Clive nods, thoughtful.

  "See, Carlos… I want to go to India. Can you help me?"

  Carlos blinks, incredulous.

  "What?! India? That’s so far from Mexico… how can we—"

  "I know that," Clive interrupts calmly. "But I want to go. There are a billion people who’ve lost their families in the abductions. I want to bring them back. To do that… we have to go to India."

  Carlos frowns. "But why India?"

  "Because there’s something in Bhuj," Clive says, eyes dark. "Something no being wants to go near."

  "Why?" Carlos asks, uneasy.

  "That’s what we have to find out. So… will you help me?"

  Carlos hesitates, unsure.

  Clive leans closer, voice softer but firm.

  "Listen… if I’m not wrong, maybe you lost someone too. And if you want them back, then you have to help me go to India."

  Carlos swallows, eyes flicking away, then nods slowly.

  "Okay… then. I’m ready to help you."

  A small smile crosses Clive’s face.

  "Yeah… then maybe there are more than ten of us."

  Carlos’s eyes widened. "What?!"

  "Yeah," Clive says, calm but certain. "More than ten, and we all want to go to India."

  "No… I can’t."

  "Wait… what?"

  "Listen, Clive… there’s a risk. All ten of us could die. If the beings don’t want anyone to go there, something… strange… might happen. We can’t risk ten lives."

  Clive doesn’t reply. He only nods slowly, understanding—but the determination in his eyes doesn’t waver.

  After a while, all of them gather together.

  Eliza narrows her eyes at Clive.

  "How did you find him?"

  Clive shrugs, evasive.

  "Ah… I found him by… ah, never mind."

  Eliza frowns.

  "What?"

  "Ah… that doesn’t matter. How I found him isn’t important."

  Nayeli chimes in, anxious.

  "Then… from which ship will we go?"

  Clive shakes his head.

  "Unfortunately… only I am going."

  "What?!" they exclaim in unison.

  "Because Carlos doesn’t want all of us to go to India," Clive explains calmly.

  "But why?" Eliza presses.

  "He said there's a risk… and I agree with him. I mean, we don’t have any choice. We have to follow him. After all… he’s driving the ship."

  A heavy silence falls. Disappointment flickers in their eyes, but eventually, they nod in agreement.

  Meanwhile, Carlos takes control of the ship. The horn blares, cutting through the stillness.

  "Okay then… bye," Clive says, walking toward the ship.

  They watch him move, disappointment etched on their faces.

  Clive climbs the stairs onto the deck, glances back.

  "Bye," he repeats.

  They respond silently, but the disappointment in their eyes lingers.

  Clive moves forward, toward the ship, toward the uncertain journey ahead.

  They watch as the ship starts to move.

  Slowly, it pulls away from the pier, engines humming, metal hull slicing through the calm water.

  Clive stands outside the ship’s cabin, hands gripping the railing. His eyes are fixed on the endless expanse of the ocean ahead.

  The ship gains speed, leaving the port behind. Concrete docks shrink into the distance. The open sea stretches before him, vast, unpredictable, and full of danger.

  The motion of the ship rocks gently, but steady. Clive breathes in, determination written across his face. The journey has begun.

  The ship is now fully in motion, heading toward the open ocean, carrying him toward India—and the unknown waiting there.

  — — — — TO BE CONTINUED — — — —

  FROM THE MEXICO,

  TO THE INDIA

  CHAPTER - 9: TO THE INDIA

  Written & Created by

  DARK_Novels_