Chapter 10
Nille wanted to read more, to understand the deeper meaning behind the scarf and the name Anu, but the growing presence of the Gabunan pulled him away from the pages. He could feel them now, not just as a distant awareness, but as something alive and pressing against his senses. Then came the sound.
Low, hollow, and relentless, the growling of empty stomachs. It echoed faintly at first, but soon it became clear, layered, and impossible to ignore. He knew that sound. He had lived through it before, back when hunger was a constant companion, when every night felt longer because his body refused to rest. But this was different.
Their hunger wasn't weak or desperate, it was sharp, patient, and dangerous. It carried intent. Even if he was the only one who could hear it, it gnawed at him, irritating and unsettling at the same time. Nille tightened his grip on the book, his expression hardening slightly as the scarf around his neck grew warm, reacting to the unseen threat. He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. He didn't have the luxury to keep reading anymore. The hunger was getting nosier , and Nille felt it wasn't going that longer, its just wafting for that moment.
Nille stood up quietly, closing the book just enough to mark his place before setting it aside. The low, persistent sound of hunger still lingered in his ears. He moved toward the swinging door, each step measured and careful. Slowly, he pushed it open just enough to peek through.
Through the narrow gap, he saw the corridor again, the flickering lights, the long stretch leading toward the basement door. The janitor walked steadily ahead, his footsteps echoing faintly against the tiled floor. For a moment, Nille considered following him, using the man as cover to discreetly check if the basement door was open.
Before the janitor could go further, one of the nurses called out. "Wait! Don't go that way," she said, her voice firm but tired. "The morgue's back door is open. That's where you'll enter."
The janitor paused, turning his head. "Ah… the back entrance?"
The nurse nodded. "Yes. It'll be easier to move the cadavers from there. Less hassle. The driver just came back after grabbing something to eat. We can't spare any more staff—the emergency floor is packed with patients. By morning, we'll be attending to those who will be admitted here."
The janitor nodded in understanding. They couldn't leave their station; they had patients to monitor. Mang Jun could only give a small sign and a smile before heading toward the hospital's main lobby exit.
Nille's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Back door."
So the main basement access from this corridor… might be locked after all. He shifted his gaze toward the flickering hallway again, then back to the janitor, now walking away.
A faint, subtle tug at his neck reminded him of the scarf. Nille understood immediately.
"You can also save this book in your storage," he whispered. "Don't worry, I'm not stealing it—I'm just borrowing it."
The scarf responded. Its threads loosened slightly, dangling and unfurling like a soft hand reaching out. Nille held the book gently against it. In an instant, the scarf shifted, enveloping the book within its folds. It vanished from his hands as if it had always belonged there, safe and secure.
Nille exhaled slowly, feeling the warm, reassuring tingle of the scarf along his neck and arms. He straightened his shoulders and casually stepped out of the library, glancing briefly at the clock to check the time.
As he made his way out the library and step into the the corridor, the female nurse noticed him. "Have you eaten the sandwich yet?" she asked, her voice gentle but curious.
Nille tapped the cargo pocket where he had tucked it. "I'll eat later," he replied. "I need to get some fresh air first."
The nurse nodded in understanding. "Alright, just don't stay out too long." She lifted a small box filled with medicine and continued on her rounds, moving through the busy emergency floor with practiced efficiency.
Nille watched her go, then let his gaze shift back to the flickering hallway ahead. The scarf rested comfortably around his neck, almost like a silent companion, reminding him that whatever awaited outside, he wasn't entirely alone.
Nille made his way toward the main ground floor admittance nurse station, his footsteps quiet against the polished tiles. The female nurse, still nearby from her rounds, glanced at him over her shoulder.
"Did you eat the sandwich I gave you?" she asked again, her tone gentle but firm.
Nille tapped his cargo pants pocket where it rested. "I'll eat it later," he said calmly. "I want to get some fresh air first."
The nurse gave a small, understanding smile. "Alright, just don't wander too far. Fresh air is good, but be careful, okay?"
"I will," Nille replied with a slight nod.
She returned to her tasks, moving efficiently between charts and patient reports, while Nille's gaze drifted toward the corridor beyond the nurse station. The shadows seemed thicker in the corners tonight, and a faint chill ran along the back of his neck, though the air was otherwise still.
He paused for a moment, feeling the subtle tug of the scarf, almost like a whisper against his skin. The warmth reassured him, but it also reminded him that the presence he sensed, something lurking, observing, was real.
Nille exhaled softly, letting his senses stretch outward, scanning the hallways. Nothing moved that he could see, yet the faint, almost imperceptible hum of energy tickled his awareness.
He stepped closer to the open doors leading toward the outdoor area, the scarf brushing lightly against his fingers, as if guiding him forward. Every step was deliberate, measured, part curiosity, part caution, knowing that whatever waited beyond, Granny Amparo's safety depended on his calm and focus.
Nille stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against his face, a welcome contrast to the sterile chill inside the hospital. The outdoor lights cast long, wavering shadows across the grounds, illuminating the neatly trimmed bushes and pathways—but something in the darkness felt… off.
He moved slowly, letting his senses absorb the environment. The scarf shifted lightly against his neck, its warmth crawling over his arms, almost like a silent companion whispering, stay alert.
At first, he saw them—faint, drifting forms hovering above the paths and near the trees. They moved with hesitation, as if unsure of him. Some were clearly human, translucent echoes of patients or victims, glancing his way before fading behind walls or vanishing entirely. Others… were not human. Their shapes flickered in unnatural ways—elongated limbs, distorted faces, shadows that moved against the wind.
A soft rustle drew his attention to a corner near the parking area. A small cluster of these spirits circled something invisible, their forms twisting and shifting, half-formed and grotesque. Nille's stomach tightened, but he stayed calm, letting the scarf's gentle tug guide his stance. Some of the spirits recoiled as he approached, vanishing with a faint, sad whisper. Others simply paused, their glowing eyes lingering on him, testing, observing.
He realized quickly: these beings weren't here by accident. Some were lost, bound to the hospital or their own deaths, while others, like the creature he'd faced before, moved with intent, seeking something, hungering.
The whispers of the dead, soft, unintelligible murmurs, drifted through the air. Nille tilted his head, listening carefully, distinguishing between those who meant no harm and those who might. His eyes caught subtle movements near the back, by the shadows where the cadaver hearse had been parked. Something shifted there, faster than the rest, a flicker darker than the night itself.
He took a steady breath. His heart beat calmly, not from fear, but focus. The scarf tightened slightly around his neck, almost protective, almost urging him forward.
"Okay," Nille murmured to himself, "I can see you… but I need to know why you're here."
He stepped further into the dimly lit grounds, each step measured, aware that some spirits avoided him, while others lingered just long enough to vanish when he got too close. He had entered a liminal space between the living and the dead, and for the first time tonight, he felt the weight of responsibility pressing on him, not just for Granny Amparo, but for understanding these creatures before they struck again.
The night air was cool against his skin, carrying faint sounds of the city beyond the hospital walls, but Nille's attention stayed on the subtle movements around him. He kept his steps light and casual, deliberately weaving a path that seemed aimless, like a child scavenging for scraps. The scarf around his neck quivered softly, as if approving his plan, but also subtly alerting him to any disturbances nearby.
He glanced at the shadows flitting across the edges of the grounds, some spirits recoiling at his presence, others lingering just long enough to make him uneasy. The Gabunan's hunger still seemed to echo faintly through the night, and he knew he had to keep his wits about him. Acting "lost" was his only defense; there was no way to outrun or overpower them outright.
"Just a kid," he muttered under his breath, adjusting his worn cargo pants. "Looking for scraps… nothing more."
Even in his small, feigned role, he moved with awareness. Every flicker of movement, every whisper of the wind through the trees, became a clue. He noted which spirits avoided him, which lingered, and which seemed… drawn to something deeper, something hidden behind the normal sights of the hospital grounds.
It was foolish. He knew that. But courage wasn't about never risking, it was about knowing what was at stake and choosing to act anyway. Granny Amparo's safety was the key, and if that meant pretending to be a wandering, harmless scavenger, then that's exactly what he would do.
The flickering shadows shifted again near the back of the hospital, and Nille slowed, letting the scarf guide his instincts. He stayed casual, pretending to kick a small stone along the path, eyes scanning for signs of the Gabunan, or any of the other unnatural things lingering just out of sight.
Every step forward was measured, every movement deliberate. For the first time that night, Nille felt the weight of both worlds, the living and the dead, pressing around him. Yet, with the scarf whispering warmth against his skin, he felt strangely… ready.
Nille edged closer to the cadaver hearse, keeping his steps casual, as if the heaps of old hospital equipment and tightly taped boxes were the only thing on his mind. The driver, a tall man in a dark jacket, leaned against the vehicle, smoking, while Mang Jun, the janitor, chatted lightly with him.
The backyard was cluttered with boxes and discarded items, all carefully arranged. Some were hazardous, syringes, chemical containers, but others could be sold to junkyards: old metal scraps, broken equipment, even a few sturdy crates. Mang Jun had meticulously sorted everything, balancing safety with usability.
As Nille crouched to inspect a box of metal scraps, Mang Jun's eyes narrowed for a moment, then softened.
"So, you're back at it, huh?" Mang Jun said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Looking for something you can sell?"
Nille shrugged, keeping his tone light. "Just… checking what's useful."
Mang Jun chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "I see myself in you, kid. Used to do the same thing when I was your age. Only difference… you're smart. Smarter than I was back then."
He motioned toward the driver and the stacked boxes. "This is Ed, he drives the cadaver hearse. And these boxes here? Some of this stuff can make you a few pesos if you're careful."
Ed nodded without saying much, still puffing on his cigarette, eyes darting to the darkened corners where faint movements hinted at something unseen.
Nille's gaze shifted to the shadows, he could sense the Gabunan already lurking around the perimeter, their hunger pressing at the edges of his awareness. He knew they couldn't see him if he acted the part of a scrappy scavenger.
"Got it," Nille said, crouching to lift a box of metal scraps. He exaggerated the effort, pretending to nearly lose his balance. The box tilted slightly, and he let it clatter to the ground with a muted thud.
For a heartbeat, he watched. The Gabunan paused, uncertain, their flickering forms hesitating as if curious about the commotion, but they didn't advance. Nille grinned faintly under the scarf's warmth. His act was working.
He bent again to pick up a smaller crate, testing another tactic. This time, he pretended to stumble backward more violently, feigning fear. "Whoa!" he muttered, almost dropping the crate entirely.
A hiss echoed from the shadows, and one of the Gabunan twitched, but still, they held back. Nille's heart didnt raced, he kept his expression carefully , without panic.
Then, near the far corner of the yard, a poisonous snake, probably disturbed by his movements, slithered suddenly across the ground. Nille saw it but added this situation let out a startled yelp, dropping the crate entirely and spinning on his heels, pretending to flee in panic. he grabs a piece of a broken PVC PIPE and quickly bash the snake but was actually aiming at the Gabunan feet but making his movement accidental and was based on a whim nd panic , he wanted to know the limits of what he can do
Mang Jun's eyes followed Nille's frantic glance to the far corner where the snake had slithered across the scattered boxes.
"Ah," Mang Jun muttered, half-amused, half-concerned. "That one's harmless… mostly. But yeah, I get it, kid, looks worse at night."
Nille took a cautious step back, pretending to stumble over a loose crate. His heart raced, not from fear of the snake, but from keeping up the act in front of the Gabunan. He needed them to think he was just a scared, ordinary boy, not someone who could see through their presence.
Mang Jun shook his head, smiling faintly. "Just… watch your step. Don't make a real mistake while checking the boxes."
Nille swallowed, nodded, and glanced at the flickering shadows again, his action was clumsy and awkward , showing he was still a eleven year old boy .The Gabunan were still observing, hesitant, their hunger palpable but restrained. He took a slow, deliberate breath, letting the scarf's warmth crawl along his arms like a silent reassurance.
"Okay," Nille muttered under his breath. "Act scared… but keep control."
The snake disappeared into a dark corner, and the Gabunan's attention wavered, leaving Nille a small window of opportunity to examine the boxes and plan his next move.
Nille nodded, panting lightly from the act, his mind racing. He had already learned something crucial: the Gabunan were not mindless predators—they were cautious, reactive, and highly attuned to fear. Every twitch, every flinch could draw their attention. But he also realized their power was limited by perception; if he could move past them without betraying his presence, they would hesitate.
He squared his shoulders, letting the scarf's warmth crawl along his arms like a quiet parking lot behind the hospital. Nille look past them, he thought. Act as if they're nothing.
With deliberate, measured steps, he edged closer to the boxes, bending to lift one with exaggerated effort, his eyes deliberately avoiding the flickering shadows at the edges of his vision. The Gabunan's forms wavered and shifted, in and out of reality, their attention flickering, but they didn't move toward him.
And with the scarf snug around his neck, Nille felt a whisper of reassurance, a quiet pulse that reminded him he wasn't entirely alone in this. Mang Jun and Ed finaly decided to continue their work, after thier short pause, moving with practiced efficiency the two casually got back to work.
Ed glanced at Nille, his voice low but firm. "We've got seven cadavers in the hearse to move into the basement, Just take what you can carry, kid, and be careful.and dont worry about the CCTV its not actually running"
Nille nodded, his small hands tightening instinctively, ready to follow his own plan. Mang Jun produced a set of hospital keys, the metal glinting under the flickering lights, and smiled faintly at Nille. "All right. Let's get this moving."
With a practiced motion, Mang Jun unlocked and pushed open the back door, revealing the basement access to the morgue. The door creaked slightly but Mang Jun made sure it stayed ajar, securing it so it wouldn't swing shut unexpectedly. Meanwhile, Ed returned to the cadaver hearse, carefully opening the back to reveal the body bags inside. He checked each one, confirming they were properly secured before signaling Mang Jun.
The Gabunan, sensing the presence of the corpses, immediately became alert. Their flickering forms twitched, shifting closer, drawn by the unmistakable scent of death. Nille froze for a moment, counting the creatures in his mind, noting their positions, their distance, and how they reacted to the human activity.
Mang Jun and Ed moved in unison, grasping the handles of a cadaver bag and lifting it with steady precision. Every step was deliberate, their movements smooth to avoid sudden noises that could provoke the Gabunan. They carried the bag toward the back entrance of the morgue, their path carefully calculated around the lingering shadows of the creatures.
Nille's eyes scanned constantly, counting the Gabunan multiple times to be sure. He noted which ones stayed closer to the hearse, which ones lingered at the edges of the yard, and which seemed to phase in and out as they observed the living. Each flicker of their bodies reminded him of the stakes, yet the knowledge that Mang Jun and Ed had the cadavers securely in hand gave him the confidence to remain composed.
He adjusted his stance, keeping his movements light and calculated, ready to react if even a single Gabunan came too close. With every careful step and every subtle observation, Nille was beginning to understand their behavior, their hunger, their caution, and the way they hesitated when faced with the unexpected. And with that knowledge, he felt the first real sense of control in a night that could have easily swallowed him whole.
Nille's movements were precise, almost surgical. The moment Mang Jun and the driver stepped safely through the backdoor, the Gabunan lunged at the open cargo of the cadaver hearse, their twisted forms writhing with hunger. The air was thick with the putrid stench of the corpses, a scent so foul it made the creatures frenzied, their flickering forms pulsating as they clawed and scrambled over each other.
Without hesitation, Nille drew his butterfly knife in one hand, the polished steel glinting faintly under the dim lights, and gripped the jungle bolo in the other, its weight firm and familiar. He moved like a shadow, silent but lethal, each motion deliberate. The first 4 foot tall , skinny bald and grey roug thick skinnned Gabunan reached for the open cargo edge, its jagged limbs cutting the air, but Nille met it instantly. A swift stab into its flickering chest sent it collapsing backward, a muffled screech fading into nothing.
Another similar size and apperance creature lunged, faster this time, and Nille pivoted, swinging the bolo in a clean, arcing slash. The blade connected with a sickening precision, cutting deep into its torso, severing limbs as if slicing through thick rope. Bloodless yet tangible, the creatures faltered, their forms twisting violently in pain before vanishing into a dust of the shadows. leaving only their bead . as the scarf quickly grab it and ate the bead .
The cadaver vehicle rocked with the force of the struggle. Each attack sent vibrations through the metal floor, rattling the boxes of medical waste and discarded supplies around it. Nille moved seamlessly from one target to the next, stabbing, slashing, hacking, every strike fatal, every motion intentional. There was no hesitation, no wasted effort. He trusted the rhythm, the whispers of the scarf along his arms guiding his strikes, anticipating the creatures' movements even before they lunged.
The Gabunan shrieked in silent, inhuman fury, their distorted bodies splintering and crumbling with each blow. Nille felt the familiar tingle of adrenaline, the calculated thrill of survival coursing through him. And when the last creature fell, vanishing into the air like smoke, the cargo bay lay still once more, wobbling faintly from the aftermath of the violent skirmish.
Breathing heavily but controlled, Nille crouch inside the back compartment of the cadaver vehicle, his knife and bolo slick but steady. The air was thick with tension, the stench lingering, yet a grim satisfaction settled in his chest. For now, the immediate threat was gone, and Nille knew, with the scarf's quiet hum against his skin, that he had only begun to understand the dangerous world that lurked just beyond the living.
Nille stepped out of the cadaver hearse, his chest heaving but his stance steady, like a young predator gauging the next fight. The cold metal of the jungle bolo in one hand, the butterfly knife in the other, glinted faintly under the dim hospital lights. The scarf snug around his neck seemed to vibrate subtly, as if sensing the rising danger and lending him calm and focus.
The first wave of Gabunan had fallen easily, but now five more were drawn by the screams of their dying kin. Unlike the earlier ones, these were larger, their shadows more solid, their flickering forms sharper, more aggressive. Four of them were noticeably stronger, their movements faster, limbs thicker, claws sharper, experienced hunters that had survived countless encounters with humans and other prey.
The creatures hesitated for a moment as they noticed Nille fully aware of their presence. Their glowing eyes narrowed, flickers of recognition flashing across their distorted faces. They could sense it, he wasn't just a random human; he had already killed their kind. Rage and hunger mingled in the air around them, and they advanced with a fluid, predatory grace.
Nille's eyes narrowed, his mind racing. There was no room for panic; this wasn't a child's game anymore. He shifted his weight, feeling the familiar reassurance of the scarf tingle along his neck and arms. It seemed to guide him, reading his intent, preparing him for the oncoming attack.
The first Gabunan lunged, massive claws arcing in a deadly sweep. Nille sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the strike, and countered with a brutal slash from the bolo, cutting a deep gash across the creature's side. It shrieked silently, staggering but still moving, its eyes fixed on him with unnatural intelligence.
Another came from the side, faster than he expected. Nille spun, the butterfly knife flashing, stabbing precisely into its chest. The creature faltered, its body flickering violently before the form crumbled into shadow.
The remaining three hesitated briefly, calculating. Nille felt the tension, heard the low, guttural growls, and understood instinctively, they were testing him, trying to see if fear would make him falter. But the scarf whispered along his skin again, a warmth that steadied his pulse. He clenched his fists, ready, and lunged like a storm, striking with a combination of knife and bolo, each motion heavy and precise, ensuring that each blow counted.
The cadaver hearse rocked again under the chaos, rattling the boxes and supplies around it. The night air was thick with the echo of silent shrieks and the metallic tang of something dark, almost alive. Nille moved with a strange, fluid coordination, part instinct, part training, part the guidance of the scarf.
As the last of the five Gabunan fell, staggering and vanishing into mist, Nille exhaled, his body tense but controlled. The air seemed to settle around him, the faint scent of death lingering but no longer oppressive. For a moment, he stood there, small yet unbroken, fully aware that these were only the first of many encounters. And deep down, he knew the creatures would learn, adapt, and return, but so would he.
In just a few minutes, it was over. Thirteen Gabunan lay defeated, their flickering forms dissolving into shadows and dust. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the faint creak of the cadaver hearse settling back into place. Nille remained still, his chest rising and falling, the adrenaline ebbing slowly from his body.
The scarf stirred softly around his neck, as if acknowledging his victory, as it took all the beads and delightfully eating and absorbing the creatures essence and with a subtle movement, it stripped the jungle bolo and butterfly knife from his hands, letting them vanish into its folds. Nille sank down onto one of the sturdy boxes nearby, the weight of the night pressing gently against his young shoulders.
He let out a long, slow breath, the tension in his muscles easing, and a quiet sigh escaped his lips. "Finally… it's done," he murmured, his voice low but steady, carrying both relief and a hard-earned sense of accomplishment.
The scarf curled lightly around him, brushing against his arms and neck, its warmth a subtle reassurance. For the first time since the chaos began, Nille allowed himself a moment to just exist, to rest, to feel the calm after the storm, knowing that while the night had been won, the war of shadows was far from over.