The night was cold. Streets empty, not a single soul was out. I was sitting at the compound, lost in the sight of that body. I felt sick to my stomach.
From a distance, I heard the voice of the police arriving to the scene. There were three SUVs that brought fourteen cops. They conducted their investigation, got out the samples, asked me questions, did not give a fuck about my mental condition and drove back with the body, in what felt like a minute.
A few hours later, the sun came up, lighting up the streets, waking the cocks, and the villagers. I performed my promises that I made to Father Samuel and Grace, got them to safety and departed back home.
I did find some good information, but not what I needed. I ended up back to square one from where I started. The future of this investigation seemed hazy.
At noon, I was at home, all alone. I simply sat down, glaring in the gloom, lost in thoughts and regret. A taste of failure. But there was no time for it. I could not allow myself to ponder over it. I pulled out my notebook where I had written all my notes of the investigation. I scanned through, from the conversations with the staff at the Maxam Hospital, the weird action of Khan, body at the Elegant Valley, that drugs bust in Adams Street, Mary's diary and their stories. But nothing seemed to give me a way into the future of this investigation.
I remembered the website that I was told. I could not recall it, but I did know that it could lead a way. I scanned though the notebook again and found it, written somewhere at a corner of the page, barely noticeable. I jotted it down separately and distinctively- "ENDLINEJOURNAL.COM".
Now the issue was how to log into it. Last time I tried, I could not do it because it simply kept crashing.
I then began researching on this website in every way I could. Time flew, the day turned into night, I was still researching with no real progress. Suddenly, the power went off, making the entire house pitch black. I was in the hall and going all the way to the room was difficult, so I waited for the inverter to start. It would take about half a minute. The lights turned back on. I walked towards the kitchen to fetch myself water. I picked the glass and gulped it down. From the corner of the eye, I saw a vehicle parked, through the window. I looked in that way. It seemed like I had seen it somewhere before.
I took a closer look at it. It seemed more familiar, a black sedan. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It seems dreadful feeling about this.
I carefully crept towards the door, ensuring that I do not make a noise. Then I peeped though the peephole. There was a man dressed as a delivery guy, pizza perhaps. I had not ordered anything, so it was a mistake or a set-up. I figured it would be better to speak through the door rather than open.
'Who is it?' I said clearly.
'Delivery.' A voice said.
'I did not order anything.' I said.
There was silence. It went on for a minute, which baffled me. I looked through the peephole again. He was still there, standing still. It was even more absurd and creepy. I did not understand the reason for his silence. There was a knock again, five times. I held a hockey racket as a self-defense.
'Sir, it's in the name of Reyansh Joshi.' He said.
That changed all my presupposition. I opened the door. He was a teenager carrying a large pizza box. I took the box. It was hot, diffusing its Aurora around.
'It's paid sir.' He said.
I nodded.
'There is a message, sir.' He said. 'This is only one death among many that are unknown, ghost.'
I looked at him, puzzled and horrified. I opened the box right there. There was a pizza that had ketchup spread all over. '"DIE"' It read.
Suddenly, there was a sound of tires screeching, that came from the back of the house. The roaring of the engine grew louder as it approached the front side of the house. I began to panic. I looked around, helplessly following the sound. I saw the black sedan drive right in front, on the road. The window was rolled down. Suddenly, gun shots were fired. The teenager got shot first, three bullets, then I got shot one in the chest. I grunted and collapsed on the floor. I did not feel the pain at all, not one bit. It was like a pebble just hit me in the chest. The thought of loosing my life, my loved ones, cause me immense pain. I could see my entire life flash before my eyes.
Then, I felt suffocated. Breathing gradually become difficult, more deep breath and asphyxiation kicked in. I heard footsteps approaching me. I opened my eyes. It was a man, with beard, shabby hairs and yellow teeth. A cold dead eyes that stared me in the eyes. It was Doctor Khan, here to kill me. I began to panic, breathing sharply and struggling to move. He pointed his gun at me in the face. He had a wide, cold smile on the face. The bullet was fired, hit me right in the face. It penetrated into the forehead, then the membrane, and pierced through the brain and went out through the other side. All the liquid, with blood and parts of mashed brain, was all on the floor. I was DEAD.
I screamed loudly, my voice reaching to all the corners of the house. I was drenched in sweat, my shirt sticking to my body and sweat dripping from my face. I looked around. Lights were on, door was intact, no blood anywhere. I realized it was a nightmare. Then, I noticed the sound of utensils from the kitchen.
'Are you okay?' Said a voice.
I squinted my eyes because of the lights. It was Kiara
'Yes. Just a bad dream.' I said.
'Take some rest.' She said and walked back to the kitchen. 'Get a nice hot shower. I'll prepare dinner.'
The shower spreed hot water that freshened me, both physically and mentally. I shampooed my hairs, stood in front of the mirror, glaring at it. I could see myself in a pathetic state, struggling to move through this investigation. I could see this whole investigation go down a dark pathway that leads to an abyss of truth.
I still found no progress to the website. There was no trace of it anywhere on the net, no history, or any previous versions similar to it. Or maybe there is just no such thing. Maybe it was a hoax. A terrible one. At this point, I almost gave up any hope left for this investigation.
At the night, right before I went to bed, the phone rang. The lawyer from SLAC.
'Mr. Joshi.' He said in a low voice. 'I've found out about the website you wanted. I can't say anything on the phone. Three at my office.'