The town seemed lifeless as the sun dipped below the horizon, shrouding us in the encompassing darkness of the night. Not a single person could be seen wandering the streets or showing any interest in the downtown shops. The bar, located nearby, didn't instill much confidence in me, considering its claim and the food it purportedly serves.

I typed the name 'The Silent Siren' in the search bar of my phone, but to my surprise, the search yielded no results. I grew even more curious about where my father had found reviews for this place.

"Where did you find the reviews? I asked. "I cannot find anything on the internet."

My father chuckled, "That's top secret. I have the right to keep my sources undisclosed."

He seems to enjoy the mystery behind his discovery. I glanced at him with curiosity, as a mischievous smile spread across his face. "Common, spill it up," I asked.

"Alright! To be honest with you, I have only one source."

"Which is?"

"You'll get angry if I tell you."

"Try me."

He glanced at me, then smiled. "Margaret is my source."

"Are you crazy?" I yelled, looking out the window. "And you're dumb enough to take her advice."

"Relax, we're here."

We park in front of the bar, noticing the sparse number of people around. "We don't have time to argue. Let's get some food." He said, stepping out of the car.

We approach the door as some people leave the bar. To our surprise, the lights inside are already turned off, indicating that the establishment is on the verge of closing. I notice a piece of paper hanging on the door, replacing the typical sign that would display the operating hours. Instead, this bar had a hastily written note held in place by a smiley sticker.

"They are about to close Dad," I said, struggling to decipher the poorly written hours on the paper.

Harold stepped closer to the door; his face filled with confusion as he began to read the note. "How is that possible?" he wonders aloud.

"The hours are 8 am to 6:30 pm."

My dad opens the door and peeks inside. "There are still people inside. We might be able to grab some food."

We sat at the bar, and an elderly lady with an upside-down cross tattoo on her left hand approached us. With a toothless smile, she places a napkin and a beer in front of my dad offering him a complimentary drink.

"Welcome to the Silent Siren," she said. "We have heard rumors about new people moving to Adams. Usually, folks tend to run away from this town rather than settle here."

"Well, we're glad to be among the few that chose to stay."

"Unfortunately, we are just about to close. We can still serve beer for the next ten minutes."

"No food?"

"Sorry, the Kitchen is closed, sir."

I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off about her. She never made eye contact with me or bothered to ask if I wanted something to drink.

"Alright then, let's grab two beers to go. Do you have any craft beers?"

"We only serve local brews," She reached for two long-neck bottles and places them in front of my dad. "That I'll be $11.50 per bottle, plus tax and tip."

"Here," My father said, as he placed two twenty-dollar bills over the counter. "Keep the change."

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"Thank you, kindly."

"Alright Tobias, we'll have to find another place to eat."

"Food is what you look for?" The old lady asked.

"Yes, something we could eat until the electricity in our place is restored."

"You have a couple of places around here where you could eat a decent meal. The Bear's Den has the best burgers in town."

"I thought the Black Lotus has the best ones."

The old lady chuckles. "If you like them raw, then you need to look no further. Unfortunately, they don't open until dawn."

"Are there any grocery stores in town?"

"Fred's is the only one. It's on Royal Parkway across town."

"Well, thank you very much."

"If you look for anything else, other than food, I am here till five," The old lady said, winking at my dad. "And thanks for the tip."

"Don't mention it."

I smiled, thinking of taking advantage of my dad and getting some payback from his sarcastic jokes back in the house. "Will you come after five?"

"I'd sooner jump off the gorge on the edge of town than entertain an offer like that. We will have to tough it out. Let's drive east to the Bear's Den. I still want a hot meal."

The town seems trapped in a perpetual state of silence and solitude, as if time itself has forgotten about this place. I must be honest with myself. We have been in this town for about five hours now, and I get a bad feeling every time we enter a new building. Every corner we turn, every interaction we have, it only adds to the uneasiness I feel. Adams Town seems to hold a mysterious aura that I can't quite put my finger on. It's as if something is lurking beneath the surface, something hidden in the shadows.

"Ok, three times the charm, right?" My father said, with a hopeful tone. " Living in a small town has its advantages."

"Can you name one?" I asked curiously.

"Like finding a girlfriend ten minutes after arriving?" My father grins mischievously.

"That's not an advantage."

"Then explain to me why you never brought one back home?" He smirks. "Well, it doesn't look like much, but we are here."

"Mind your business."

The entrance to the Bear's Den didn't inspire much confidence. Motorcycles lined the parking lot, alongside scattered empty beer cans, and a group of rugged-looking bikers. As my father opens the door, we are greeted by a scene of a bustling, crowded bar.

"This might be overwhelming. We can leave if you don't feel comfortable with this type of crowd." My father said.

"I'm fine. Let's get some food and get back to the house."

We step inside, immediately enveloped by the lively atmosphere. Laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses echoed throughout the crowded bar. It's packed with people from different walks of life, mingling and enjoying their time. We manage to get to a small table in a corner, away from the center of the action. A waitress approaches our table, her friendly smile contrasting with the rough exterior of the bar.

"Love the little bit of white in your hair," The waitress said, complimenting my distinguished look.

"Thanks."

Harold, on the other hand, greets the server with a lingering gaze. He examines every aspect of her, unabashedly exploring every feature without a hint of modesty.

"Hi," my dad said, clearly captivated by the blonde girl.

I observe his behavior, noticing that this is a side of him I haven't seen before. However, considering our limited time together, it's possible that he simply hasn't revealed this aspect of his personality to me.

"I am Emma, I will be your waitress tonight. We are a little busy, so I hope you understand if the food takes a little more time to prepare."

"We are fine with that. Can I get a beer first then? And A glass of milk for my underage son?"

I felt a sense of disappointment as I glanced at my dad. "I want a Coke. In the biggest glass, you got. He will pay for everything, I'm just here to make him spends more than he thinks he's going to."

Emma burst out laughing at our exchange. "This is cute. Are you guys' really father and son?"

"Yes, we are." My father said, extending his fist for a bump.

I rolled my eyes, watching awkwardly his behavior and ignoring his request. "I don't do fist bumps, Dad. It's outdated."

"Funny," Emma said. "I'll be back shortly with your drinks."

The music in the bar is deafening, and the patrons are even louder. Bikers sing along to the tunes blaring from the jukebox while watching the girls dancing in front of them.

"Man, this place is loud."

"Ignore it. Let's look at the menu."

As I open the menu, the first item that catches my eye is the reasonably priced burger.

"Vamp on a stick?" My father asked, curious. "What kind of food is this?"

"It doesn't tell you in the description?"

"No. It only has the name of the appetizer. I think I'll Pass. It's like buying a microwave meal and not knowing the contents."

Emma returns with our drinks in her hands.

"Beer for the dad, coke for the son. You guys are ready to order?" she asked with a friendly smile.

"I'll take your burger meal," Harold said.

"I have a question about one of the appetizers you serve."

"Sure. Which one?"

"The Vamp kabobs. What kind of meat are these?"

"They are made with beef, chicken, and pork skewered together. Fried on canola oil and spices."

"Why do you call it Vamp kabobs?" I asked, curious about the name.

"Two hundred years ago, this same bar allegedly served Vampire meat for the Hunters of Adams Town. Of course, it's all just a myth."

The connection between the name of the appetizer and the old tale in Adams Town leaves me feeling a bit disgusted. Emma, noticing my hesitation, began to write in her notebook. "Are we adding the Vamp Kabobs to the meal?"

I glanced at my dad and based on his expression, I decided to decline. "No thanks. I'll go with the burger as well."