The Other Side
While Wick, and Deep were still checking the road ahead, things inside the bus began to stir.
Shreekant stretched his arms, groaning as he stepped out into the cool air. The jungle smelled of wet leaves and something faintly metallic. He didn't like it, but after sitting cramped for hours, the space felt freeing - at least for a moment.
After a few minutes, he climbed back inside, rubbing his hands together. "Finally, time for dinner," he muttered, pulling out his food packet from under the seat.
He froze.
The box was torn open, sauce smeared on the seat.
Half-eaten bones - nothing else.
"The hell?" he whispered. "Who touched my food?"
He looked around - everyone was half-asleep except Karan, snoring against the window.
"Of course," Shreekant muttered, glaring. He shook Karan's shoulder roughly. "Oye, wake up! You ate my chicken, didn't you?"
Karan blinked, confused. "What-? Bro, I was sleeping!"
"Don't lie! You're the only one near my seat!"
The argument woke a few others. Kritika rubbed her eyes. "What's going on?"
"He thinks I ate his food," Karan said, raising his hands defensively.
Shristi looked from one to the other. "He didn't move since we stopped, Shreekant. He was right here the whole time."
Shreekant frowned, staring back at the empty box. "Then who the hell ate it? Only the chicken's gone..."
They exchanged puzzled looks.
"Maybe the dhaba guy gave you a half order?" Kritika suggested weakly.
Shreekant scoffed. "Yeah right, he served invisible ghosts this time."
Kritika chuckled weakly. "If there were ghosts, they'd have better taste than you."
The small laughter eased the tension - for a moment. Then it faded.
The silence returned, heavier than before.
Karan groaned. "Stop overthinking. Let's just step out - maybe there's another stall nearby. I'm starving too."
Shreekant hesitated, glancing at the fog outside. It looked denser now, curling around the trees like slow-moving smoke. Still, hunger overruled caution. "Fine. Let's check the roadside."
The two of them stepped out, the gravel crunching softly under their shoes. The air felt thicker - colder than before.
Inside the bus, the restlessness spread. Kritika stretched and said, "Let's get some fresh air too."
Ayesha nodded. "Yeah, this bus is suffocating."
Shristi looked uneasy. "Wick said not to go out..."
"He also said it's overheating, not haunted," Kritika joked, forcing a laugh.
The girls stepped out one by one - soft chatter blending with the distant hum of insects that had just started again. The night was too still, too heavy.
Reluctantly, Shristi joined them. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she noticed how strange the fog felt - not cool, but warm, like breath against her skin.
Ayesha whispered, "Do you hear that?"
They paused.
Somewhere in the trees, faint chewing sounds echoed - wet, rhythmic, animal-like.
Sonal froze mid-step. "Is that...?"
Kritika frowned. "Probably some squirrel."
But voice lacked conviction.
Behind them, the bus's door creaked softly. The lights flickered once - though no one had touched the switch.
Then, silence again.
Far down the road, Wick stopped walking.
Every hair on his arm stood upright.
He turned sharply toward the bus. "Deep."
Deep looked confused. "What?"
"Something's wrong," Wick said quietly, eyes narrowing through the mist.
"What now?"
Wick stared at the faint glow ahead - the outline of the minibus almost swallowed by fog.
For a split second, he felt out of this world-Rage? Sudden without any reason.
"Deep," he said quietly. "We're going back."
Deep frowned. "Why? You think it's fixed?"
Wick didn't answer. He just stared into the darkness where the bus's faint silhouette stood under the broken headlights - and for a second, he could've sworn he saw movement.
Not inside.
Around it.
The Stranger in the Fog
The night had grown unnaturally still.
The fog now moved like it had a life of its own — slow, deliberate, curling around the tires of the bus and swallowing the trees whole.
Shristi rubbed her arms. "Annu, it's freezing. Let's just go back inside."
Annu nodded, her breath visible in the mist. She turned — and froze mid-step.
"Shris…" she whispered.
Across the road, beyond the faint beam of the bus's flickering headlights, stood a man.
Tall — impossibly tall.
His frame loomed above seven feet, wrapped in a long, tattered shawl that brushed the ground. His jeans hung loose, oversized enough to hide his feet completely. He wasn't moving. Just standing — facing the jungle.
Shristi's heartbeat quickened. "Do you… see his face?"
"No," Annu breathed. "He's not even turning."
The fog swirled around him, blurring his outline. For a moment, it almost seemed like his shadow bent the wrong way.
Annu forced a nervous laugh. "Maybe he's from a nearby village?"
Sonal swallowed. "Then why's he just… staring into the forest?"
Neither of them moved. Their instincts screamed to leave.
Finally, Shristi tugged Annu's sleeve. "Come on. Let's go back."
They turned toward the bus — but the moment they did, the man shifted.
A single, fluid turn.
Even as he turned, his face stayed hidden — the shawl covering it completely.
Then, without a sound, he started walking toward them.
Not running.
Just walking — long strides, unnaturally smooth. Each step closing the distance too fast.
Annu's throat tightened. "He's coming—"
The man's pace quickened.
His legs stretched wide in impossible steps, the gravel crunching louder with each one.
They began to walk faster too — fear flooding their veins — until walking wasn't enough anymore.
Up ahead on the road—
Dipanshu stepped through the fog, scanning the darkness.
He wasn't aware of what's happening backside of the Bus… he's worried about Wick! Maybe for the first.
"Wick?" he called out, moving further from the bus.
No answer.
Just silence.
Then—
A flicker of movement behind him.
His head snapped back toward the bus.
Behind—
The man was already too close.
"Don't run," Shristi whispered, her voice trembling. "Just walk—"
The man's stride widened.
Too long.
Too fast.
The gravel cracked under his steps.
"Shris—he's—"
"RUN!"
Then, from the distance, a voice cut through the fog — loud, sharp, commanding.
"RUN! Get in the bus!"
It was Wick.
Shristi's head snapped up.
Wick's silhouette emerged, sprinting full speed—
Behind him, Deep—
And further ahead, Dipanshu already charging back toward them.
---
The girls bolted.
But the man reached first.
His hand shot forward—
And grabbed Shristi's wrist.
---
The moment his skin touched hers—
A sharp crack echoed.
The necklace around Shristi's neck flared faintly—
And the man jerked violently, like he'd been electrocuted.
A burning hiss escaped him.
He stumbled back, clutching his hand—
But this time—
He didn't retreat.
He straightened.
Slower.
Angrier.
---
Shristi pulled free and ran.
---
Wick arrived first.
No hesitation.
No pause.
He launched forward—
His fist collided with the man's jaw with full force.
The impact echoed through the forest.
---
The man's head snapped slightly—
But his body didn't move.
Not even a step.
Group frozen.
His face — what was left of it — was barely human.
Skin blistered and burned, one side warped and raw, the other marked by deep scars like claw marks. His eyes glowed faintly red in the haze, reflecting the broken headlights of the bus.
---
Before he could react—
Dipanshu came in from the side—
A sharp kick driving straight into the man's ribs.
The force landed clean—
But again—
Barely a reaction.
---
"Get them inside!" Wick snapped.
---
Behind them—
Deep turned, eyes scanning fast—
Then—
He spotted it.
A small open box near the bus.
Salt.
Which they grabbed for snacks.
---
Without thinking—
He grabbed it, twisted it open—
And hurled it straight at the man's face.
---
The reaction was immediate.
A sharp, unnatural shriek tore through the air—
The man recoiled violently, his head snapping back as the salt hit his eyes.
His hands flew up—
Clawing—
Scratching—
As if something inside him burned.
---
"NOW!" Wick shouted.
---
The girls rushed into the bus—
One after another—
Shristi last—
Her breath shaking as she climbed in.
---
Wick stepped back slowly, eyes locked on the man.
Dipanshu beside him.
Deep just behind.
All three—ready.
---
The man lowered his hands slowly.
His face revealed—
Burned.
Twisted.
Wrong.
His eyes glowed faintly red through the fog.
---
And then—
He smiled.
---
The wind howled.
The fog exploded outward—
And the forest fell silent again.
---
Wick stepped back toward the bus.
"Inside. Now."
No one argued.
---
The door slammed shut.
Annu's voice trembled. "Wick… what is that?"
Wick's fists clenched again. His breathing was steady, but his eyes had gone cold — calculating.
"I don't know," he said quietly, never looking away from the man.
"But whatever he is— he's not supposed to be here or we are."
The stranger tilted his head at Wick — a slow, unnatural angle — and let out a sound that wasn't quite a growl, but not human either.
The wind rose suddenly, howling through the trees. The fog burst outward in all directions — as if the forest itself had exhaled.
---
Outside—
The man didn't move.
He just stood there.
Watching.
To be continued…