The silent night was only broken by the occasional hooting of a nearby owl and the low motor noise of Jonathan thermal sight.
Jonathan on his knees was observing the village from a safe distance, Przemek on his left and Sofia a few meters back in the forest with some of the people from Kristianstad.
Jonthan eyes grew weary from the sight, as he rubbed it he lost his balance and collapsed while cursing silently.
“I’m all for helping them, but did it have to be now?” he said getting back on his knees.
Przemek just eyed him. Like Jonathan, he was cold, his boots and pants were wet from the moist overgrown. He was tired and hungry. Which is why he didn’t answer.
“Fuck it, I don’t see shit. Guy’s probably indoors. Fucking why is everything’s wet in this god forsaken country” Przemek said as he pressed on his overstrained closed eyes. He knew cutting corners would get them into trouble but he wanted to get this over with.
“Ja Pierdole” Przemek raged as he stood up. “Kurwa mać” he added as he made his way back to the woodline.
Jonathan didn’t need a translation as Przemek ordered the people in the woodline to come out.
Sofia got out along with three men from Kristianstad. They lined up themselves on the field about one hundred meters away from the village.
“Ja jebię hold that rifle correctly Gówniarz!” Przemek uttered as he pointed at one of the men who was holding his hunting rifle on his shoulder. His voice a mix of whispering and shouting. The man corrected his stance.
“Three men while the rest are Kristianstad or the road leaving the village south.” Jonathan said, trying to show he also understood the absurdity of the situation.
“Stay in line, turn on your lights only when I do” Przemek said, ignoring Jonathan’s remark.
The group moved across the field, their initial anger and annoyance giving way to rising stress and fear as they drew closer to the village.
“Stay close to me,” Przemek instructed Sofia, noticing her trembling just like the other men before he switched on his headlight. One by one, the group followed suit, their headlights and handheld flashlights cutting through the encroaching darkness. As they approached, the small rural houses began to illuminate, casting a faint glow over the scene.
The group made their way into the eerily quiet village, only the sound of their boots walking through mud and foliage could be heard as silence blanketed the streets. The darkness was punctuated only by the beams of their headlights and handheld flashlights, casting long, flickering shadows on the rustic facades of the small, rural houses. The dim light revealed windows with curtains drawn tightly and doors shut closed. Every creak of breaking branches beneath their feet and distant rustle of wind through the trees seemed amplified in the oppressive quiet. The atmosphere was thick with tension, each member of the group feeling a growing sense of unease as they moved cautiously through the narrow, deserted streets.
“We’ll start here,” Przemek said, pointing to a nearby house. “Jonathan, you and tall guy stay on the street. Everyone else, stay close to your buddy as we enter. I don’t want anyone alone in a room.”
One of the men, smaller but leaner than Przemek was fumbling with a set of keys at one of the doors. The villagers who had left for Kristianstad had all given their keys to help with the search.
“Move away, Huj already knows we’re here”. Przemek uttered in a mix of polish and English as the man moved away from the door.
Przemek approached the door with grim determination, his breath visible in the cold night air. He planted his boot firmly against the worn, wooden surface and drove it forward with a sharp, authoritative kick. The door splintered with a resounding crack, swinging open on its hinges with a forceful push. A gust of stale, musty air rushed out, carrying with it the faint smell of abandonment. The dim light from their flashlights cut through the darkness inside, revealing a disheveled interior that had been untouched for what seemed like an eternity. Przemek entered rifle raised followed by two of the men and Sofia.
Jonathan and the tall, anxious man stood vigil outside, their figures casting long shadows in the flickering light of their flashlights. Jonathan, with a stern expression, held his weapon firmly, his eyes scanning the darkened village for any signs of movement. Beside him, the tall man shifted nervously, his posture rigid and tense, as if every distant sound amplified his fear. His hands gripped his flashlight tightly, trembling slightly, and he kept glancing over his shoulder, eyes wide with apprehension. The village, cloaked in an unsettling silence, seemed to press in on them, and every creak of the old houses or rustle of the wind heightened their sense of dread. The looming threat of a madman loose in the abandoned village added a palpable tension to the already eerie scene, making every shadow seem like a potential danger.
In the distance, a curtain fluttered ever so slightly, revealing a brief, flickering flash of candlelight from inside the house. The fleeting glow cut through the oppressive darkness, casting an eerie, dancing shadow on the walls. The sudden illumination was barely enough to catch the eye, but it hinted at life within the seemingly abandoned house, sending a shiver down the spines of those standing guard. The brief glimpse of light heightened the tension, as if something—or someone—was deliberately watching them from the shadows.
Jonathan stood still. “You saw that?” he asked the man next to him which name he couldn’t remember for the live of him.
“What?” the man said, even more anxious now than before.
“Go get the others.” Jonathan uttered as he kneeled next to a bush rifle pointed at the window.
“But polish guy said we should’nt be left alone.”
“Get your ass in the house now and bring the rest Klaphat!” Jonathan uttered silently but violently as he lifted up his rifle and checked the chamber.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“What’s happening?” Sofia said as she got on her knees next to Jonathan.
“That house, fifty meters next to the mailbox in the shape of a turtle. There’s light inside. You can see how the instead of curtains there’s blankets against the wall.”
Przemek heard Jonathan as he got closer, followed by folks behind him who were scared and shaking with their weapons in hand.
“Everyone follow me,” Przemek ordered, his voice low and urgent. “Stay quiet and don’t use your weapon unless you’re absolutely sure of who you’re looking at!”
They all sprinted down the road. Przemek ordered Sofia and Jonathan to stay in front of the house while the others were to walk behind it to keep an eye on the back door.
“You’re sure of what you saw?” Przemek asked Jonathan. Jonathan nodded as he kept his rifle aimed at one of the doors.
“Okay, you stay behind me, Sofia you enter last and you watch the door once we’re inside. You two others move behind the house and make sure no one leaves.”
Both nodded, their expressions tense. They no longer felt the cold or dampness of the night; instead, they were drenched in sweat, their bodies burning with the intensity of their anxiety. As Przemek and Jonathan moved toward the front door, the oppressive tension seemed to thicken the air, each step forward heightening their sense of impending danger.
Przemek kicked the door open with a forceful shove, stepping into the dimly lit interior with Jonathan right on his heels. The stench that assaulted their nostrils was a nauseating mix of blood, rotting meat, and an indefinable, sickly odor. The flickering candlelight cast unsettling shadows on the walls, revealing a gruesome scene of brutality. Blood smeared the walls, scrawled with cryptic, chilling messages. In the center of the room, a body was suspended from the ceiling, its arms bound and stretched in a gruesome display known as blood eagle. The sight was horrific. The trio was accustomed to chaos and violence, but this scene was unlike anything they had seen before. It was as if a new level of horror had entered the fray.
As Sofia entered and took in the sights the three of them refocused on the task at hand. They had found the lair of whatever was staying in this village but now they had to find it. Przemek shook Jonathan on his right to get him to focus again as he was stuck staring at the corpse in the middle of the room.
Like their cabin, the house they were in had a living room with an open next to it. The difference being that this one had a different decorative style. The living room lead to a small hallway with two doors.
“Sofia keep an eye on the hallway, Jonathan watch the door.” Przemek uttered as he entered the kitchen rifle in hand. The smell was more intense here. A small heap of maggots laid right under the fridge door. Unable to control himself, Przemek reached for it and opened.
Closing it as fast as he had opened it he turned around as he heard Sofia yell in Swedish.
“Show yourself!” she yelled again as Przemek joined her. “Keep an eye on that fucking door, Jonathan!”
Przemek silently hoped that the men outside would stay put. The last thing they needed was friendly fire at this moment.
“Down the hallway, last door!” she snapped, her eyes darting toward the dark corridor. “I saw it creep open and something standing inside.”
Przemek ’s heart raced as he scanned the area. “If you don’t come out, we’ll throw a grenade in, and you can deal with that!” he shouted, his voice harsh and commanding.
When there was no response, Sofia’s face tightened with frustration. She repeated the threat in Swedish, her voice carrying an edge of cold determination.
From inside the room, a voice finally broke the silence. “What I did was for all of us!”
“Tell that to the man you killed!” Sofia shot back, her submachine gun trained on the door, her finger poised on the trigger. “He’s dead because of you!”
“It was for him as well,” the voice responded, filled with a mixture of guilt and resolve.
“Shut up and come out slowly!” Sofia commanded, her tone brooking no argument.
The door creaked open inch by inch, each movement slow and deliberate, the tension thick in the air.
A hand held the door from inside before the rest of body also made its way in the hallway.
An old man emerged from the room, his appearance stark and unsettling. His face was smeared with jagged stripes of face paint, contrasting sharply with his yellowish-brown eyes that darted nervously. His gray beard was scraggly and unkempt, adding to his wild look. He wore a thermal shirt made of netting that barely concealed his upper body, he wore no pants, underpants, or shoes. His genitals were fully exposed.
Przemek 's eyes widened in shock and disgust, his grip tightening on his weapon as he struggled to mask his revulsion. His face flushed with a mix of anger and disbelief, struggling to comprehend the sight before him.
Sofia’s reaction was a mix of outrage and pity. Her rifle lowered slightly, but her eyes remained hard and unforgiving. She struggled to maintain her composure, her jaw clenched as she tried to process the man’s state and what it meant for their situation.
“I did it for Óðr, only him can keep us safe now. He’s the cause for all of this.”
“I don’t want to hear you talk right now!” Przemek said, his Swedish still halting but more fluent from the hours of practice with Sofia. His frustration was clear in his tone, and he gestured sharply for the man to remain silent.
The man shot Przemek an angry glare, his yellowish-brown eyes flashing with defiance. “Let’s get this over with. I’m more than glad to meet my gods!” he said, lifting his gaze toward the darkness above as if seeking divine retribution. As he stepped further into the candlelight, the flickering flames illuminated his gaunt features and exposed body.
Sofia's patience snapped. As he approached too closely, she fired a burst, her gunshots sharp and decisive. Przemek followed suit, his own weapon roaring in unison. The sound of the gunfire reverberated through the room, each shot punctuating the tense silence. The old man crumpled to the floor, his defiant stance giving way to a lifeless collapse, leaving the room steeped in the aftermath of their actions.
Jonathan felt the intense warmth of the burning cabin on his face as he stood, captivated by the blaze. Przemek approached, extending a cigarette and a lighter towards him. Jonathan accepted both, lighting the cigarette and taking a deep drag, the glow of the fire reflecting in his eyes.
As Jonathan took a drag from his cigarette, he and Przemek stood side by side, their gazes fixed on the cabin engulfed in flames. Sofia joined them, her face illuminated by the flickering light of the fire. The first hints of dawn were beginning to break through the darkness, the sun’s pale light starting to push back the night.
The warmth of the blaze was intense, the heat radiating out and making the air shimmer. The flames roared and crackled, sending a shower of sparks and embers into the early morning sky. The once-sturdy structure of the cabin was now a chaotic dance of fire and shadow, collapsing in on itself as the flames devoured everything in their path.
Nearby, the men from Kristianstad stood in a circle trying to guess who the man was and who the corpse inside the house was, their faces etched with exhaustion and a quiet sense of resolve despite the growing mystery. They watched the inferno with a detached calm, their expressions reflecting the weight of what they had witnessed and the relief of witnessing the end of it.
For Sofia and Przemek , the sight of the cabin burning was a cathartic release. The fire, with its unrelenting power, seemed to purge the horrors they had uncovered inside. The cabin had been a vessel of dark things and unsettling truths, and now, as it turned to ash, it felt as though the flames were cleansing them of the remnants of fear and violence they had endured.
The heat from the fire mingled with the acrid smell of burning wood, and Jonathan exhaled a plume of smoke, watching the destruction with a detached satisfaction. Przemek ’s eyes were fixed on the collapsing walls trying to forget what he saw in the fridge..
Sofia’s gaze lingered on the blaze, her usual steely demeanor softened by a rare hint of relief. The horrors of the cabin were being consumed by the flames, and the finality of the destruction was a fitting end to the nightmare they had faced. The night was filled with the sounds of the fire and the occasional quiet murmur of their companions, each lost in their own thoughts as they stood together, witnessing the end of a chapter marked by fear and uncertainty.