Whispers in the Dark (Amit's Perspective)
Manoj, the ice cream vendor, hopped onto his bicycle and pedaled away, his movements surprisingly swift for someone who had seemed so nervous earlier. I followed, my own legs pumping in a silent pursuit, maintaining a careful distance. The quiet streets of the late night echoed with the soft whir of his bicycle tires and my own muffled footsteps.
After what felt like an eternity, he turned off the main road, the houses thinning out, the streetlights becoming sparse and casting long, distorted shadows. He finally arrived at a dilapidated godown on the outskirts of the town, a desolate structure standing starkly against the inky sky. This was a sunsan area, a place where few ventured, especially at this hour. Manoj dismounted, propping his bicycle against the crumbling wall, and stood there, as if waiting for a prearranged meeting.
A few tense minutes later, the low rumble of approaching motorcycles broke the silence. Two bikes roared into the deserted area, each carrying two figures. Their faces were crudely masked by gamchhas, the traditional cotton cloths obscuring their identities.
I melted into the deep shadow of a neighboring building, my senses heightened, my heart pounding against my ribs. I watched them, a silent observer in their clandestine rendezvous.
"Hey Manoj," one of the men from the first bike called out, his voice rough and carrying in the stillness. "Raghu told us you did the job. How are you?"
Raghu. So that was the name of the authoritative voice on the phone. And the vendor's name was Manoj. Useful pieces of information.
"I'm… worried for myself, Raghu," Manoj replied, his voice laced with a nervous tremor that echoed my own internal unease.
"Why are you worried?" Raghu scoffed, dismounting his bike. "You did exactly what you were told. Nothing more."
"But… if the police come to me…" Manoj stammered.
"No one will come to you," Raghu said dismissively. "You just served an ice cream, remember? Nothing more."
"So… what happened with that boy?" Manoj asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What will you do with him? Where is he now?"
Raghu's tone hardened. "That boy has been taken care of. Sent far away from this city. You don't need to ask unnecessary questions, Manoj. Don't cross the line. Your job was simple, remember? Do what you're told, nothing more."
"I was just asking…" Manoj mumbled, his earlier bravado gone. "The money, brother?"
"Not another word about things that don't concern you," Raghu snapped, reaching into his pocket. He tossed a small packet towards Manoj. "Twenty thousand rupees. There's more where that came from if you keep your mouth shut and do your work properly."
As Manoj fumbled to catch the packet, a flicker of avarice lit up his face. "Twenty thousand… just for that?" The greed was palpable, a stark contrast to his earlier fear.
"Time's up," Raghu said curtly. "Get lost."
"Okay, okay, I'm going," Manoj said hastily, scrambling onto his bicycle. "I'm going to have a party tonight! Mutton curry and… and plenty to drink!" He pedaled away into the darkness, his words echoing in the silence.
I remained hidden, my gaze fixed on the four men who remained.
"Raghu," another man from the second bike spoke, his voice low and cautious. "What if this Manoj does something foolish? Talks to someone?"
Raghu let out a harsh laugh. "He won't. He knows what's good for him. If he does… well, we'll silence him, just like we silenced the others who got too curious. Hahahaha." The other three joined in his chilling laughter.
"Alright, let's go," Raghu said, kicking the stand of his bike. "We need to get to the adda. The others are waiting."
I had heard enough. They have more people involved. An 'adda'… a meeting place. I need to follow them. See what else is going on.
As they revved their engines and sped off into the night, I moved swiftly, silently. Channeling my siddhi, that innate ability to move with unnatural speed and grace, I followed them, a shadow in the deeper shadows, staying out of the reach of their headlights and their line of sight. The chilling laughter and the casual mention of silencing others fueled a cold resolve within me. This was no longer just about a missing child. This was something far more sinister.