chapter 1
In the pitch-black darkness that enveloped the street, Ali and Sajjad stood on the sidewalk, waiting for a taxi or a tuk-tuk in an uncertain moment shrouded in tension. The rain was pouring down heavily, as if the sky itself was on the verge of collapse.
“I’m worried… What if we’re making a mistake?”
Sajjad spoke, his voice laden with anxiety. But Ali, who seemed much calmer, responded indifferently, “Don’t worry. Everything is calculated. Our task is simple—we just need to pick the idiot who will drive us to our goal.”
“But… we’re going to kill an innocent person!” Sajjad burst out, trying to steady himself.
Ali smiled, his expression unseen in the darkness, then whispered, “The end justifies the means, Sajjad. Remember that.”
Sajjad kept glancing around, his eyes filled with unease. But Ali placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Just relax. The dream we’re chasing is worth everything—even if the price is blood. I have a sharp knife, and you have one too, right?”
Sajjad felt his pocket and nodded. “It’s there.”
A green tuk-tuk passed by, honking loudly.
But Ali wasn’t interested. “Old model. We need a new one,” he said simply, as if his entire life was built on that rule.
The tuk-tuk that had passed them suddenly slowed and circled back. The rain pounded their bodies, intensifying the fear creeping into their chests. The vehicle was red, speeding through the wet streets. Sajjad, breathing heavily, noticed something strange—swarms of flies were gathering on the window, swirling in an eerie pattern, as if part of an unsolvable puzzle.
“What’s going on here?” Sajjad whispered to himself.
Ali, unfazed, replied, “Don’t focus on the details. We just need to get what we want.”
As the tuk-tuk neared them, Sajjad noticed something even stranger about the driver. He was weighed down by an unnatural heaviness, his swollen face exuding an unfamiliar odor. Even the flies circled around him as if drawn to something unseen. It was clear—this was not the type of driver anyone would expect at this hour.
Ali smirked and greeted him, “Salam Alaikum.”
The driver nodded in response.
Ali continued nonchalantly, “We need a ride to the Green Khuzam area. There’s a broken bike there. How much will it cost?”
“Ten thousand,” the driver replied flatly.
Ali took a deep breath and smirked to himself. “Deal.”
He slid into the seat next to Sajjad, who was growing more restless, while the tuk-tuk rumbled forward, carrying them toward their fate.
As the road stretched before them, Sajjad struggled to push away the growing fear gnawing at him. He tried to chat with the driver, but the mysterious man remained silent. Sajjad lit his second cigarette, a futile attempt to calm his nerves. Raindrops drummed relentlessly against the windows, their rhythm quickening as if warning of something unseen. The wind, suddenly stronger, battered the tuk-tuk violently.
Staring out at the glass, Sajjad felt an unease deep in his heart. Everything seemed normal, yet an unshakable dread was consuming him.
Then, without warning, the tuk-tuk’s radio crackled to life on its own, filling the space with distorted static.
A chilling voice emerged through the speaker:
“Hello, thieves.”
Sajjad froze in place, his heart pounding furiously. Ali’s face turned pale, as if he had just heard news of his own death.
“Turn it off… My head is killing me!” Ali muttered, his voice tense.
But no reply came.
Evil laughter echoed from the recorder, as if something was watching them.
“I’m talking about you… Ali and Sajjad.”
Their hearts pounded faster, and their veins burned with tension. Something unnatural was happening—something beyond comprehension. Sajjad nervously fidgeted with his hand, while Ali struggled to suppress the tremor in his voice.
“Turn it off now!” Ali commanded, his voice laced with terror. But the driver, who seemed oblivious to everything, did not react. Ali lunged forward from his seat behind the driver, reaching for the recorder’s power button. The moment his fingers touched it, an electric jolt shot through his body.
The driver kept driving, as if he felt nothing.
Sajjad slowly gripped his knife, while Ali cast him a secretive glance, as if they were plotting something no one else could understand. Then, in a sudden, decisive move, they both attacked the driver.
Yet the driver’s reaction was bizarre—he didn’t flinch. It was as if he felt nothing. The laughter inside the recorder grew louder, wilder, almost mocking.
“Stop the tuk-tuk!” Ali screamed, but the driver continued, deaf to their pleas, oblivious to the chaos inside.
Ali’s voice cracked with panic as he retreated, eyes darting around in terror.
“Are you okay?” Sajjad placed a shaky hand on Ali’s arm, trying to reassure him.
“I know you two want to steal the tuk-tuk.”
Ali and Sajjad exchanged anxious, bewildered glances.
Sajjad, struggling to make sense of it all, hesitantly asked, “Where is that voice coming from? Is it—”
But the chilling voice cut him off again, this time sharper, more menacing:
“You will both die, you worthless bastards.”
Ali’s fingers dug into Sajjad’s arm as if begging for salvation. Their eyes locked again, and in that silent exchange, they knew—they had to act.
Ali reached into his coat pocket, his voice shifting into a threatening tone. “Do you even know who we are?”
At the same moment, Sajjad cautiously pulled a small knife from his pants pocket, his gaze fixed on the eerily silent driver. With unspoken coordination, they pounced, their screams piercing through the suffocating silence.
Ali pressed his blade against the driver’s throat from one side, while Sajjad mirrored him from the other.
But what happened next defied all logic.
The driver did not move. Did not make a sound. He sat still, like a lifeless statue.
His eerie silence only amplified their growing dread. Then, from the depths of the recorder, a deep, sinister laugh resonated once more:
“Pathetic little bastards.”
Ali snapped. The tension had reached its breaking point.
“STOP THE TUK-TUK NOW!” he roared.
But the driver remained unfazed, driving as if nothing had happened. Ali and Sajjad exchanged frantic glances—now a mixture of confusion and sheer terror.
In a fit of rage, Ali seized the driver’s hair in a tight grip and pressed the blade harder against his throat. He applied more pressure—more force—until suddenly, the driver’s head… detached.
Ali froze, his blood running cold.
The severed head lay in his hands, grinning with yellow, decayed teeth and hollow black eyes—devoid of any life.
Both men shrieked in unison, a scream that was neither human nor comprehensible—an agonized blend of fear and agony.
The malevolent laughter returned, louder than before, reverberating throughout the tuk-tuk, as if ridiculing their terror.
Then, a blinding white light flared in front of them.
The only sound they heard next was the deafening blast of a truck horn.
And in that instant, it became clear—
Their end was imminent.
