We rushed downstairs, and nothing could have prepared us for what we saw.
The hotel staff were gathered around the kitchen, staring in horror with wide-open eyes and hands covering their mouths.
I pushed past them to get a look.
And there was Bobby, crouched in the freezer, feasting on raw meat. He even paused a few times to wipe the blood stains from his mouth.
"What are you doing? Stop it!" I shouted, grabbing his hands and pulling them behind his back, trying to usher him out of the kitchen.
"Let me go, I'm still hungry!" Bobby protested, struggling to break free from my grip.
Sea Snake Fang quickly came to my aid and delivered a swift chop to the back of Bobby's neck.
Bobby immediately fell unconscious.
"I think we have no choice. Let's get him to the hospital," I said, my voice laced with urgency.
Amy Lee moved swiftly, and I followed close behind.
"You guys go ahead. I'll think of an excuse and calm the hotel staff," Kurnawan said.
Amy Lee nodded, trusting Kurnawan to handle the situation without hesitation.
We cleaned the bloodstains off Bobby with whatever we could find.
I also noticed that his right hand had gotten worse.
It now appeared to be about three times the size of his left hand, grotesquely swollen.
After what felt like an eternity, we finally reached the hospital. Bobby was admitted immediately, and the medical staff began tending to the pus and blood oozing from his wound.
He was also running a dangerously high fever.
"He should improve by tomorrow. We'll monitor his condition and inform you if anything changes," the doctor in charge said before leaving.
Amy Lee and Sea Snake Fang decided to leave, but I stayed with Bobby for a while longer.
Once I was sure he was resting as comfortably as possible, I stepped outside the hospital and lit a cigarette.
What a turn of events.
Bobby had been alive and kicking just last night.
Now, no one could be sure what was happening to him.
I had a hunch Bobby might not recover by tomorrow.
My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't had a proper meal yet.
I flagged down a taxi and headed back to the hotel, thinking longingly of the Bebek Goreng (fried duck rice) from the nearby food stall.
The rest of the day was spent replenishing the supplies we had used up.
Kurnawan had managed to convince the hotel staff that Bobby's high fever had caused him to act unconsciously.
He explained that Bobby might have been hungry but couldn't distinguish what he was eating.
The next day couldn't come fast enough for me.
I was eager to see how Bobby was doing.
After all, I was the one who had convinced him to join this trip.
…
The first thing we did the next day was head straight to the hospital.
Bobby's condition remained unchanged. His fever was still running high, and his right hand was still swollen and infected.
"Doctor, you said he'd be better today. Why is he still the same as yesterday?" I asked, my voice tinged with frustration.
"I've administered antibiotics for the infection, as well as medication to suppress the fever. He should be better today, but sometimes these things take time. I can't guarantee a 100% recovery just yet," the doctor replied, shaking his head as he noted down his observations.
Hearing this, I decided to trust my instincts.
This situation needed to be addressed by the supernatural.
It wasn't just a simple case of infection.
I asked Kurnawan to follow me, and we made our way to the Snooker parlor.
As we entered, the friendly boss behind the counter recognized me immediately. His face brightened up with a smile.
"You again! And you brought a new friend? Let me give you a discount," he said cheerfully.
"I'm not here for Snooker," I replied, getting straight to the point. I showed him my handphone and swiped to the picture of the red worm. "Do you have any idea what this is?"
The boss squinted at the screen, then put on his reading glasses and brought the phone closer to his face. He shook his head after a moment. "I've never seen anything like this around here, but I know someone who might be able to help you."
"Who? Could you introduce me to him?" I asked anxiously.
I handed him a packet of cigarettes and ten IDR $100K notes.
He felt the money, his smile widening even further. "There's a Bomoh (witch doctor) living near the river, a few streets down the road. You know, like the Bomohs in Pulau Besar who deal in black and white magic. His name is Tok Pak. Let me draw you a map."
He turned to the counter, grabbed a pen, and sketched a simple map on his notepad.
I looked at the map. It wasn't fancy, but it was clear and straight to the point.
It led to a house by the river, near a banana tree.
My heart skipped a beat. Banana trees are notorious for being the residence of the Pontianak spirit. In Malay folklore, the Pontianak is a female vampire and the ghost of a woman who died in childbirth. She is said to live in banana trees near houses, with long black hair, pointed nails, and a sickly-sweet frangipani scent. The Pontianak is rumored to be able to disembowel men with her nails and sniff out prey through laundry left out to dry. If you suddenly smell that sweet frangipani scent at night, be cautious—the Pontianak is nearby.
And who else but a Bomoh would want a banana tree so close to his house?
Kurnawan drove me there, and we parked the car before beginning our search for Tok Pak. We asked around, but the villagers were reluctant to help. They glanced at the map, shook their heads, and quickly walked away, avoiding eye contact.
Finally, we found a friendly kid who was willing to assist us.
Of course, I didn't offer the kid any cigarettes; a cold ice cream did the trick.
"That's Tok Pak's house over there. I can only take you this far," the kid said, pointing to a small hut in front of us before running off as fast as he could.
The house was small, built with wood and a zinc roof.
Next to it stood the banana tree.
The atmosphere around the house felt eerie and unnervingly quiet.
There were a few chickens in a coop nearby, but they hardly made any noise.
We knocked on the door, but it didn't open, even though we could hear sounds from inside.
I peered through the window to see if anyone was home.
Inside, a young woman was kneeling, chanting prayers.
In front of her stood an old man, dressed in a shirt and sarong.
He was carefully placing tree roots into a glass full of oil.
Suddenly, his gaze snapped to mine.
My heart started pounding, and I clutched my chest as a sharp pain shot through it.