The Cry of Allan
The Cry of Allan
Sam’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. He slammed the accelerator, making the van jolt forward with a guttural roar. None of them dared to speak at first. The only sounds were the rapid thump of the tires against the uneven road and the occasional gasp of air when one of them remembered to breathe.
They didn’t stop running until the hospital came into sight. The glowing cross atop the old building cut through the fog like a beacon, but tonight it looked less like salvation and more like a cold, watchful eye. Sam swerved into the parking lot and braked hard.
Alisha threw her hands against the dashboard and shouted, “What the hell was that figure, Joel? What did we see back there?” Her voice cracked, still shaking from the shadowy encounter.
Joel’s chest heaved as he pushed the passenger door open. “I don’t know,” he muttered. His eyes twitched toward the glowing windows of the hospital. “But I know one thing… Lily wasn’t just terrified. She was warning us.”
Alisha’s face twisted. “Warning us of what? That… thing? Or of Allan?”
Joel’s voice dropped lower, as if someone could hear them even outside. “We need to talk to Mr. Gomez. He’s hiding something, I’m sure of it. Maybe he knows what happened to Adelia. Or maybe…” He paused, staring into the shadows of the hospital grounds, “maybe he’s the real suspect.”
Sam scoffed nervously, pulling his hoodie tighter. “Suspect? Of what? Kidnapping? Murder? Or whatever that thing was chasing us?”
But before anyone could answer, a weak sob drifted toward them from the open window of the hospital ward. It was a broken sound, filled with grief. They froze.
It was Allan.
They entered the hospital room, their shoes squeaking against the waxed floors. The hallway smelled faintly of antiseptic, yet beneath it lurked the copper tang of something older, darker—blood maybe, though none of them dared to speak of it. Allan sat upright in his bed, his frail body trembling. His face was pale, streaked with tears, and his lips quivered as if he had been repeating the same words over and over to himself.
“I love her,” Allan whispered, looking up at them with red-rimmed eyes. “I love Adelia. That’s why I asked you to investigate. That’s why I begged you. I need to know where she is.”
Alisha felt her stomach twist. “Allan, what are you saying? What really happened to Adelia?”
His head dropped into his hands, shoulders convulsing. “If you love someone, you can feel them. Even across oceans, across walls, across death. I feel her, even now. I feel her screaming.”
Joel stepped closer, his voice hard. “Then why did Lily tell us never to come back? Why was she so afraid of you?”
The air shifted. Allan lifted his head, and the tears glistened like oil under the fluorescent lights. “Because she doesn’t understand. None of you do. You think I’m the monster, but I’m not. I’m the one who hears Adelia calling.”
Alisha’s breath caught. “Calling? From where?”
Allan’s gaze fixed on the far corner of the room, where the shadows seemed to thicken unnaturally. His lips curled into a twisted smile, a mixture of anguish and devotion. “From beneath. From where they put her.”
Sam’s chest tightened. “Beneath… what do you mean beneath?”
But Allan didn’t answer directly. He began rocking back and forth, his hands clutched over his ears as if to block out voices only he could hear. “She cries in the walls… she whispers in the vents… she begs me to find her.” His words tumbled out in sobs. “That’s why I asked you all to look. Not to prove me guilty. To help me find her. To bring her back.”
Joel’s fists tightened. He leaned in, his voice sharp. “You’re hiding something, Allan. Did you hurt Adelia? Did you bury her somewhere?”
Allan’s face twisted in rage. “NO!” The scream rattled the IV pole by his bed. “I would never harm her. I need her. I love her. You think I would silence her? No. No. I just want her back.”
The heart monitor by his bed beeped wildly, faster, sharper, almost as if reacting to his words.
Alisha felt her skin crawl. The shadows in the room seemed alive, creeping closer, bending unnaturally around the edges of the light. The bulb above flickered twice.
“Allan,” she whispered, her throat dry, “if you didn’t hurt Adelia… then who did?”