Chapter 1
I am going to tell you a story. It is a story that no one believed happened, but it did, and it sent shockwaves throughout the entire country. You would expect a story like this to start in a major city, but it actually began in a small village.
A small family arrived at their home by the river. They had just returned from town after a long day of shopping for household items. Everything seemed as normal as it could be. The father opened the door, the children ran inside, and the mother went straight to the kitchen to organize their purchases.
In a small Indian village, people are usually friendly and neighborly, always eager to help one another. That was why the family found this particular evening so unusual. They had noticed it on the way in, but now it was becoming obvious: the village was far too quiet.
They dismissed the silence at first. They assumed the bad weather had kept everyone indoors for a quiet evening. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
A shout broke the silence. It sounded like someone calling for help. The father went out to investigate while his wife and children waited inside. When he stepped out, he could see nothing. The weather was worsening, and a thick grey fog had swallowed the landscape. Then, he noticed movement. Something was coming down the river. He couldn't tell if it was an animal or a fallen tree, but it was drifting steadily toward him.
He called out to his neighbor, Raju, asking him to come out and see. There was no response. He walked over and knocked on Raju’s gate, but the house remained silent. He turned back to the river and waited for the object to arrive.
It was a dead body.
When he rolled the body over, he recognized the face immediately. It was a villager he had known his entire life. It was Keshav. They had grown up together, played together as children, and now his friend lay dead on the riverbank.
Shocked and unsure of what to do, he called back to his family. He told them to stay inside while he went to find help. The mother ushered the children to the dining table and began preparing snacks. She tried to act normal, but her hands were shaking. She was too scared to even ask what he had seen.
As is the case with young children, they were curious. The little girl wanted to go out and see for herself, but she knew she would get in trouble. She devised a different plan. She crept up to the roof and glanced down. She looked at the front of the house and then down the street. She saw nothing. She couldn't see her father, and she couldn't understand why they had been told to hide. The river flowed quietly through the dense fog.
She went back downstairs to play with her brother. After half an hour, the mother’s worry turned into panic. She told the children to stay put and stepped outside. She walked by the river, looking left and right, but the fog hid everything.
She began walking toward the end of the street, calling her husband’s name. He did not respond. What felt even stranger was the lack of reaction from the village. Despite her distressed cries, no neighbors opened their doors or even peeked through their windows.
She was certain now that something terrible had happened to the entire village. Then, she saw them. As she turned a corner, she came upon a crowd of people. They were surrounding someone on the ground.
Thinking someone was injured, perhaps her husband, she ran toward them. It was a fatal mistake. She recognized the faces in the crowd, all of them neighbors, all of them standing over a body.
She stood on her tiptoes to see over their shoulders. There lay her husband. He was dead. And the people surrounding him, the people she thought were helping him, were eating him. One man bit into his arm; another tore at his leg. The others jostled for position, desperate for a single bite.
The mother began to back away, her soul filled with horror. She had to get out. She turned and ran, hoping the sound of her footsteps would be drowned out by the cheers of the people devouring her husband.
As she ran, a voice called out, quieting the crowd. She ducked behind a building to listen. The voice was familiar.
"Wait, wait," the voice said. "What are you doing? You don't even know if we will find more food, and you are trying to finish him so soon? Do you realize how hungry I am? How dare you not wait for me?"
She peeked out and saw Keshav. It was him, and yet it wasn't. His face had transformed. The friendly smile and sparkling eyes were gone. What remained was a soulless, horrifying creature. Blood ran down his chin. He looked dead, yet he was speaking, and the others listened to him with terrifying devotion.
She turned and sprinted back to the house. They would soon realize her husband hadn't arrived at the village alone. They would know there were three more people left to feed on. She burst through the door and told the children in a trembling voice, "We have to leave right now."
The children didn't argue. They could see the sheer terror in her eyes. Their mother grabbed their hands and sneaked out through a back window.
They ran, the mother constantly checking behind her. They turned a corner and spotted another group approaching. Unlike the first group, this one included women. For a brief second, she felt a flicker of hope. Surely the women would help? Why would they turn into violent creatures?
She ran toward them, but as she drew nearer, she saw their faces. They were lifeless. She abruptly changed course, her children clinging to her hands as she sprinted at top speed. The entire group began to pursue them.
Her mind raced with questions. They had only been gone for one day. What could have changed her friends into this? There was no time to dwell on it. The exit to the village was far away, and help would only be found in the next town.
Suddenly, a figure stepped into her path. She shoved the children behind her. When she saw the figure’s face, she gasped. It was her husband.
"My dear, don't worry," he said. "Everything is fine. Come with me. Let's go back to our house. What snacks have you made? I would love to eat. I am very hungry."
"You are not my husband," she replied. The motherly instinct in her flared into anger. She could see the inhumanity in his features. Then, a hand appeared on his shoulder. Keshav stepped out from behind him, wearing the most evil smile she had ever seen.
"What is wrong, bhabhi ji?" Keshav asked. "Why are you so worried? Look at my dear niece and nephew. Why are you scaring them? Children, come out. This is your Uncle Keshav. Come here."
"Don't move," she whispered to her children. Then she looked at Keshav. "Keshav bhaiya, what is happening? What has turned you into this? You aren't yourselves. Please, just let the children go. I will stay. Do whatever you want with me, but let them go."
"Arey, bhabhi ji, you are worrying for nothing. Everything is fine. We have simply found our inner strength. Now we can be whatever we want. I have never felt so strong. Look at this."
He reached down and picked up a tractor by the front wheels as if it weighed nothing. He dropped it with a deafening bang. The children screamed. The mother prayed for a miracle, a single chance to escape.
Then, the miracle happened. Shouts and gunshots rang out. The school principal appeared with three police officers. Since the village had no station, she realized the principal must have gone to the neighboring village for help. Relief washed over her.
She looked at Keshav, expecting to see fear. Instead, he was smiling. He winked at her and turned to the principal.
"Arre babu, we were looking for you," Keshav called out. "Where did you go? Oh, I see. You went to get four more meals for us."
The mother’s hope died. She knew the officers were no match for these monsters. She grabbed her children’s hands and ran. She felt her son’s hand slipping, so she tightened her grip and refused to look back. Her daughter was screaming, but the mother kept running, afraid that if she stopped, she would lose her courage.
They reached the long stretch of road leading to Bahri, the outskirts where vendors sold vegetables. She saw the carts. She heard the vendors calling out. She had made it.
Everything in Bahri was normal. Then, she heard Keshav’s voice echoing from the distance. "Bhabhi, congratulations! You made it. I am truly happy you two made it through. Have a good life!"
The mother ignored him and reached a cart belonging to a vendor named Misri. She turned around, ready to comfort her children and tell them they were safe.
All the blood drained from her face.
She was holding her son’s hand. Just the hand. It had been severed at the wrist.
Her little girl had stopped crying and was staring blankly at the hand in her mother's grip. The mother collapsed, hugging her daughter and sobbing hysterically. Misri came around the cart to help, but the mother couldn't speak.
She wrapped the hand in a piece of cloth, picked up her daughter, and began the long walk toward the next town.
The story does not end there. Misri remained confused for the rest of the day. She discussed the strange encounter with her father. They both stared back at the village, noting the ominous silence. They were still there in the evening when a huge crowd emerged from the village, walking slowly toward them.
