Manukae Forest

A man sprinted out of the airport, his face drenched in sweat. He looked like someone was chasing him—someone out for his life. But when I scanned the area, nobody seemed to be a threat. He burst through the exit. Gasping for air, he bent slightly, trying to collect himself. His frantic behaviour drew puzzled glances and aroused curiosity but not enough care.

I couldn't ignore it. As a seasoned psychologist, I had seen erratic behaviour before, but this was different. It gripped me. It felt like my duty to approach him and offer some kind of reassurance. I had time with my flight delayed—and with further chances of delay. Just as I started walking toward the exit, I saw him again. He had re-entered the airport. I observed him closely this time. I could sense fear in his mind. He was in his early thirties, well-groomed, seemingly single. He lingered near the guard for five minutes, his hands twitching, his breathing uneven. Then, without warning, he shoved the guard aside and bolted—faster than before.

I started following him. The Manukae Forest was just a ten-minute walk away from the airport, and he was heading in that direction. It was around ten in the morning. Rumours spoke of ferocious wild animals lurking in the forest. The locals warned never to cross the river that ran through its heart, especially after dark. Every time someone dared to do so, they went missing. The next day, a search-and-rescue mission would be launched, only for the cops to find the body—mangled, bloodied, and torn apart. Claw marks covered the flesh, leaving no doubt that the beasts of the forest had feasted.

I saw him slow down as he entered the forest. He crawled into the shade of a large tree. I felt a little tired, too.

"I used to be cool, man… What happened to me?" I muttered, staring at my belly.

"Help me… they’ll kill me in a couple of days."

I heard my wife’s voice crackling through the special frequency we use for personal communication. But something was off—the signal was coming from a different frequency, not the one she usually used. She was in serious trouble.

"Who are they? Where are you? Just give me a hint—anything!" I cried into the radio. A different voice cut in. "Listen, we’re giving you a chance to get your wife back. Come to Dreworth tomorrow. We’ll receive you at the airport. There’s a job—something in your field. Do it, and she goes free. Unharmed."

I could hear her crying in the background. She must have been forced to use our secret channel. Oh, dear God.

I glanced at my watch. I had an hour to return to the airport and catch my flight. Brushing off the grass and leaves clinging to my pants, I stood up and started walking toward him. He saw me. 

"What? You followed me?" he shouted. Then, without another word, he turned and bolted.

"Hey! I’m here to help! Just wait—talk to me for a minute!" I yelled at the top of my voice. Maybe, from the distance, he thought I was someone else. He disappeared behind a thick patch of bushes, and suddenly, everything went silent. I hesitated. Should I peek and see where he went? Or should I turn around and leave? My legs had carried me so far, and I wanted to respect them. Hence, curiosity got the better of me.

I picked up a stick. If anything went wrong, I’d swing it, smash, and run. Moving carefully, I peered through the dense bush and saw a small tent. Further, I could see a shadow inside the tent. The entrance to the tent was slightly open. Slowly, I lifted the flap with my stick—WHAM!

A fist slammed straight into my nose. Pain exploded in my face. I stumbled back and fell hard. Blood trickled from my nose, and my eyes shut tight from the shock.

I swung the stick wildly in the air. But it was useless. SMACK! Another punch, harder this time. My grip loosened, and the stick slipped from my hand. I forced my eyes open just in time to see the same guy grinning down at me. Before I could react, he shoved me backward—straight through a hole in the middle of the tent. I had no time to guess what was happening. I was already falling. 

My skull felt like it had cracked open against the rock-hard ground. I groaned, rubbing my forehead, trying to shake off the dizziness. The air was damp, thick with a foul, rotting stench. A dim torch flickered in the corner. A rusted radio sat on a wooden crate. It was not just a hole but a complete cave.

"Where the heck am I?" I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Welcome to Dreworth," I heard a familiar voice.

"No... my flight... my flight to Dreworth hasn't even arrived yet. Leave me! I have to save —". My words died in my throat. She was right there. My wife. Bound, gagged, blood dripping from cuts and bruises all over the body. And next to her stood a man. The most disgustingly twisted face I had ever seen. He had an axe in the air. And then—SWOOSH! The axe sliced through the air. It hit her, and she was dead in an instant.

"NO!" I screamed, my entire body shaking. I lunged forward, but before I could move an inch, I heard a soft shuffle behind me. I froze. My mind raced. I know who they were now. I had never seen them before. But I had heard of them. The stories. The rumors. The ones who lived deep in Manukae Forest.

And then I saw him. The man I had followed. Standing right behind me. His hands were raised, holding another axe.

Siba Smarak Panigrahi

(Modified on 10 Feb 2025)