CHAPTER 2 PART 2

Nayeli laughed softly, the sound blending with the whisper of the desert wind. They continued walking, their footsteps fading into the vast, quiet desert as the village lights slowly grew closer.

CHAPTER 2 PART 2

It was around 3:00 am.

Nayeli spoke to Clive, “We’ve reached.”

Clive looked around. “We… what?”

“Look, there’s the village,” Nayeli replied.

Clive exhaled. “Ah… finally here.”

“It took me an hour to get here,” Nayeli said, walking alongside him.

Clive moved forward, and Nayeli followed. Soon, they entered the village.

“Where’s the petrol pump?” Clive asked.

“Straight ahead,” Nayeli replied.

The two walked straight to it.

Nayeli asked, “By the way, how are we going to carry the petrol?”

Clive smirked. “In bottles.”

“Bottles? Where do we even have bottles? That’s barely going to fill the bus,” Nayeli said.

Clive shrugged. “There must be a grocery shop in the village, right?”

“You mean we’re going to loot a shop?” Nayeli asked, slightly alarmed.

Clive laughed softly. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll take what we need.”

“I don’t want to steal,” Nayeli protested.

“No worries, I’ll take care of it,” Clive said with a casual smile.

He spotted a small grocery shop on the left and walked in. Nayeli followed him inside.

Clive headed straight to the freezer behind the counter and pulled out several bottles, placing them on the counter. “Keep an eye outside. Make sure no one comes in.”

“Okay,” Nayeli replied.

Clive moved to the back shelves, where several bags were stacked, and picked up three, bringing them to Nayeli.

“What’s this?” Nayeli asked.

“Bags,” Clive replied.

“Yes, but why these?” she questioned.

“Fill them with bottles,” Clive said.

“What?” Nayeli asked, confused.

“Fill them! Water will also be needed. And take whatever else you want from the shop,” Clive instructed.

Hesitant at first, Nayeli began filling the bags with bottles.

Clive noticed two large jumbo packs and picked them up, carrying them to the shop’s washroom.

“What are you doing?” Nayeli asked.

“Filling these with petrol,” Clive replied calmly.

“You’ll catch fire!” she protested.

“We’ll clean them first,” Clive said.

Nayeli hesitated but didn’t interfere.

From inside the washroom, Clive instructed, “While I’m in here, keep cleaning this jumbo pack. And don’t forget to fill both.”

“Okay,” Nayeli replied, holding the pack and cleaning it carefully.

Clive came out from the washroom with three more jumbo packs, ready to fill them, while Nayeli prepared the previous ones.

“Fill one bag with snacks—whatever fits,” Clive said.

“Got it,” Nayeli replied, organizing the counter and placing snacks into the bags.

“Where do we keep all five bags now?” she asked.

Clive shrugged. “We’ll carry them.”

“Carry them? That’s heavy.”

“I’ll take three, you take two,” Clive said with a grin.

Nayeli nodded, grabbing two bags as they prepared to leave the shop with everything ready.

After a while, Clive had already cleaned three of the jumbo packs and cleaned five more. He had filled all ten jumbo packs into the bags.

Clive picked up another jumbo pack, but this time he didn’t clean it—he put it directly into a bag, and Nayeli didn’t notice because she was busy filling the water bottles.

Clive said, “So, these bag have water bottles, these have snacks, and these two have jumbo packs… for the fifth, put in two water bottles and some snacks.”

“Okay,” she replied.

Clive grabbed a matchbox and a lighter from a shelf near the counter and put them into his pocket. Nayeli asked, “Why did you take these?”

“Who knows, they might come in handy,” Clive replied.

Nayeli finished filling the bags and picked up two of them.

Clive said, “Why are you picking up bags already?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Before we go, we need to eat what we have here first,” he explained.

“But they might be waiting for us,” she said.

“I’ll call Robin and let him know we’ll be a little late,” Clive assured her.

“And oh—I almost forgot—we need diapers too,” he added.

“Diapers?” Nayeli asked.

“Yes, for Miss Florence’s child on the bus,” Clive explained.

“Oh,” she said, understanding.

“Eat whatever you need, I’ll make the call,” Clive said as he walked to the shelves to pick up the diapers.

He called Robin.

“Hello?” Robin answered.

“We’ll be a little late. I mean, we’re going to eat first,” Clive said.

“Alright. Make sure to bring some food too,” Robin replied.

“Yes, yes, we’ll bring it. By the way, get Miss Florence up,” Clive added.

“Why?” Robin asked.

“For her child—what size diapers should we get?” Clive explained.

“Okay, I’ll get her,” Robin said.

Robin went to the bus and picked Miss Florence up from the second-to-last seat on the left. She stood and asked, “What happened?”

“Clive and Miss Nayeli are at the village, so Clive called to ask which size diapers to get for your child,” Robin explained.

“What? They reached the village?” Florence asked.

“Yes, and the call is still connected,” Robin said, handing her the phone.

“Hello?” Florence said.

“Hello, Miss Florence,” Clive said.

“Yes, but you reached the village?” she asked again.

“Yes. The bus ran out of petrol, so we came to the village to get some from the petrol pump. By the way, which size diapers should I get for your child?” Clive asked.

“XL,” Florence replied.

“Okay, then,” Clive said, picking up an XL pack.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked.

“Yes, maybe some food,” Florence said.

“Yes, we’re bringing that,” Clive assured her.

“Alright, nothing else then,” she said.

“Okay, then,” Clive said and ended the call.

After a while, Clive and Nayeli reached the petrol pump.

Nayeli carefully emptied the bottles from the jumbo packs, filling them with petrol in the pitch-black night. The darkness of the village seemed endless, broken only by a few faint lamps scattered here and there—barely enough to cast any real light over the streets.

For a while, she worked silently, pouring petrol into each bottle, the night wrapping around her like a heavy blanket.

Soon, all the packs were filled. She placed them back into the bags, securing them tightly.

Clive nodded, and without another word, they began their walk back, stepping cautiously through the quiet village, their silhouettes swallowed by the shadows around them.

They were moving forward, heading back to the bus.

Slowly, the sound of footsteps reached them, faint at first.

The sound grew louder.

Clive glanced behind—nothing.

The footsteps grew sharper, echoing through the empty night.

Clive looked again—still, no one was there.

Clive said, low and urgent, “Nayeli… don’t look back. Just run.”

“What?” Nayeli asked, startled.

“Don’t ask. Just run!” Clive urged, breaking into a sprint. Nayeli followed immediately.

The footsteps behind them grew louder, faster—closer.

Nayeli dared a glance backward and froze. A group of figures was chasing them—they were prisoners.

“Clive! They’re coming after us!” she shouted.

“Don’t look back! Keep running! They’re prisoners!” Clive yelled, his voice tense but steady.

“What?” Nayeli gasped.

They dashed straight ahead, adrenaline pushing them faster. A narrow alley appeared to the right. Clive veered sharply into it, and Nayeli followed. The prisoners pursued relentlessly, their footsteps pounding behind them.

“Hurry! Faster!” Clive barked.

They ran straight through the alley, hearts pounding, the night around them thick with shadows and danger.

Clive sprinted forward, eyes darting over his shoulder. Twelve prisoners were closing in, relentless and unyielding.

He pushed himself harder, legs burning, lungs screaming—but then something clicked in his mind.

“Nayeli,” he shouted, voice urgent, “you go ahead! I’ll cover the rear!”

She nodded, understanding instantly, and surged forward, dodging and weaving through the shadows. Clive slowed his pace, scanning every corner, every shadow, every movement behind them.

“Bag—drop it!” Clive barked suddenly.

“What?!” Nayeli froze for a split second, confusion flashing across her face.

“Your bag—drop it now!”

Without hesitation, she released the bag, letting it fall to the ground. Clive skidded to a halt just as one of the prisoners reached him, grabbing at him with brutal precision. He swung the bag forward, but the prisoner’s eyes locked onto Clive’s as if some invisible force controlled him. Then—punch. Clive’s head snapped back, pain exploding across his face.

Nayeli froze, panic gripping her. She wanted to rush back, but Clive’s voice cut through the chaos.

“Run!” he screamed

Her feet hesitated. The bag sat between them like a lifeline and a trap.

“RUN!” Clive yelled again, more forceful, almost commanding.

Finally, she obeyed, hurling her bag forward.

The prisoners were on Clive now, surrounding him. He hit the ground, staggering under the assault, but he still managed to free the bag behind him. Even while taking blows, he grabbed the bag ahead of him and tried to push himself upright.

More hits rained down, but somehow, he rose. Nayeli, clutching the bag she had dropped, made her move. The prisoners hesitated, watching her.

Clive slowed, feigning exhaustion, then slid sharply to the left, positioning himself with precision. In a flash, he thrust the bag onto one prisoner’s chest, shoving with all his strength, while slipping his right hand into his pocket. A lighter appeared, flicking open.

He ignited the bag. Flames licked the fabric, and the scent of petrol stung the air. The prisoners froze, some taking instinctive steps back.

The fire raged, consuming the bag, smoke curling into the night. Clive didn’t let go; he maintained control, pushing the burning bag strategically. Nayeli’s bag had sparked her own move, and now the prisoners had to retreat, momentarily overwhelmed by chaos and fear.

Breathing hard, Clive grabbed their own bags again, steadying himself. He looked up—through the smoke, through the chaos—Nayeli was still standing there, unwavering, a silent pillar of courage amidst the inferno.

Clive and Nayeli moved quickly, racing ahead, hearts hammering, every step driven by the fear that the prisoners might catch up.

Nayeli glanced at him, breathless and bewildered. “Why are you staying behind?” she demanded.

Clive drew in a ragged breath, trying to steady himself. “To light the bag,” he said simply.

“The bag?” Nayeli echoed, disbelief lacing her voice.

“I thought… if I placed it on the chest of the lead prisoner and set it ablaze, it would stop them,” Clive explained, his tone measured despite the adrenaline still coursing through him. “It didn’t fail… exactly.”

Nayeli’s brow furrowed. “Why take such a risk?”

Clive exhaled sharply, letting the tension ease slightly. “If I hadn’t… they would have caught us.”

A brief silence hung between them, the night around them heavy with smoke and danger.

Then Clive’s eyes darkened as he spoke again. “Those prisoners…”

Nayeli turned to him, searching his face.

“They’re not in control of themselves,” he continued, voice low, almost grim. “It’s like… even their instincts are being manipulated. That’s why they attacked me like that, why they didn’t come from the side of the bag—they paused, waited, as if something else was guiding them.”

After a brief pause, Clive’s voice cut through the night, low and deliberate.

“Nayeli,” he said.

“Yeah?” she replied, glancing at him, still catching her breath from the chaos behind them.

“I… I need to go to India,” he said, his eyes fixed ahead, as if seeing a path no one else could.

“India? But… why?” Nayeli asked, incredulous.

Clive exhaled sharply. “Ever since the news started coming in yesterday… about the Indian city Bhuj, about aliens not appearing there, and the people who were supposed to meet them also staying away… I need to see it for myself. I need to know what’s actually happening.”

Nayeli’s eyes widened. “But… How are we even supposed to get to India? I mean, India is so far away, it’s in Asia… and now, getting there seems impossible.”

Clive’s gaze hardened, determination flickering across his face. “There has to be a way. Maybe a ship… something that goes there.”

Nayeli shook her head, panic creeping back in. “Even to get on a ship, we’d have to cross oceans. Who would even take us? And… what if the aliens—what if they take us mid-journey?”

They walked cautiously, keeping their pace steady, trying to convince themselves that the prisoners were finally gone.

But then… It started again. A faint sound behind them—the slow, deliberate echo of footsteps.

Clive and Nayeli froze, eyes snapping toward the rear. Nothing, yet the sound persisted, growing louder, heavier.

“They’re not coming back… right?” Nayeli asked, her voice trembling with fear.

Clive’s jaw tightened. The footsteps accelerated, thudding faster and faster, closer and closer.

Suddenly, from the shadows ahead, a prisoner emerged, moving with terrifying speed and focus.

“Run!” Clive yelled, sharp and commanding.

Instinctively, both of them dove to the ground, rolling and taking cover. The alley became chaos—shadows, fear, and the pounding steps of the prisoner behind them.

Clive and Nayeli scrambled back-to-back, keeping low, eyes scanning. The prisoner charged forward relentlessly, but the two of them pressed on, moving through the narrow alley, every step calculated, every breath tense.

Behind them, the other prisoners weren’t far off, their echoes bouncing off the walls. Clive and Nayeli had no choice—they had to keep moving, diving and dodging, always staying one step ahead of the relentless threat.

Clive and Nayeli pressed forward, moving as fast as they could, every muscle taut, every breath sharp.

On their right, a small juice shop came into view. They passed it quickly, eyes flicking around, adrenaline guiding every step.

But the shadows behind them were far from empty. One of the prisoners was crossing in front of the shop, moving with relentless speed.

Then, suddenly—a shot rang out.

The bullet screamed through the air, a metallic hiss cutting through the night. It struck the prisoner squarely on the right side of his head.

He crumpled to the ground instantly, lifeless, the sound of his collapse echoing through the empty street.

Clive and Nayeli froze for a heartbeat, adrenaline mixing with shock. They dared a glance back.

The shooter was unseen, hidden somewhere, but more footsteps were pounding closer behind them. The remaining prisoners were still coming—relentless, determined, and unaware that one of their own had just fallen.

Two prisoners came charging, relentlessly, closing in on the shop with frightening speed.

Suddenly—a sharp crack split the night.

Bullets screamed through the air, cutting a deadly path. Two shots rang out in rapid succession.

Both prisoners went down instantly, collapsing to the ground with heavy thuds, their momentum halted mid-stride.

— — — — TO BE CONTINUED — — — —

IN THE DARKEN NIGHT, WHO WILL

                    SURVIVE

CHAPTER - 3: BATTLE OF REVENGE

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