Meanwhile…
While I was struggling to make sense of the horror unfolding near Rodriguez's grave, things weren't any better on the other side of the cemetery.
Jason clutched the flashlight tightly, its flickering beam barely piercing the thick mist swirling around them.
"The wind's picking up hard... Are you two alright?" he asked, his voice shaky.
"Alive. That's all I know," Tom muttered, his breath visible in the freezing air.
"Let's just find the mathematician's grave and get the hell out of this nightmare." Jason's flashlight flicked again, casting warped shadows across the crumbling headstones.
Then it started.
A low, eerie rustling behind them—like dry leaves being dragged across stone.
"Did you hear that?" Jason froze.
"Alan!" Tom yelled, spinning around. "Get over here!"
No reply. Just the howling wind.
"ALAN!" Jason shouted.
Then—a scream.
Not just any scream. A scream so guttural, so raw with terror, it sliced through the storm like a knife.
"HELLLLLPPPPP!"
Jason dropped the flashlight in panic. It hit the ground with a dull thud, the light flickering erratically. He and Tom sprinted toward the sound, hearts pounding.
The beam of the flashlight finally steadied on the ground.
But Alan was gone.
Vanished.
Only the flashlight remained—lying there, still glowing.
"No, no, no... Where the hell is ALAN?!" Tom's voice cracked. Panic seized him as he dropped to his knees, searching wildly around.
"ALAN!" he screamed, over and over, like a broken record stuck on terror.
Jason stood frozen, trembling. "I-I told you, bro... This place—this cemetery—people say it's cursed. There's a portal here. A door that connects to the world of the dead."
"SHUT UP, Jason!" Tom snapped. "This is real! Alan's gone!"
"Bro..." Jason whispered.
"What now?!" Tom spun toward him.
Jason slowly raised the flashlight.
In the distance—a tall figure stood. Draped in a tattered purple cape, it was dragging someone by the neck with a thick, ancient rope.
The person struggled weakly.
Alan.
"ALANNN!" Tom roared and charged forward, but the ground had other plans.
His foot slammed into something buried. He tumbled forward, hitting the gravel hard.
"Agh!" he groaned. His knee was a bloodied mess.
Jason rushed to him. "Are you okay?! Your leg—"
Tom didn't answer. His eyes widened in horror.
Jason followed his gaze.
The earth was shifting. Moving.
Then—cracking.
All around them, rotted hands and skeletal arms began piercing through the ground like claws desperate for air.
Corpses. Skeletons. Soldiers in rusted armor. Rotten monks. Eyeless children.
They rose—hundreds of them. Wailing. Hissing. Groaning in languages lost to time.
And then—they started fighting each other. Tearing at flesh and bone like rabid animals.
"Holy… what the actual—" Jason couldn't even finish.
Suddenly—BOOM.
The sky ripped apart. A blazing comet tore through the clouds and came crashing down into the heart of the cemetery.
Impact. Fire. Chaos.
Flames erupted, devouring graves, turning the dead trees into torches. Smoke filled the air. Thunder cracked like war drums. The air became unbreathable.
Jason and Tom hit the ground, curling into themselves, unable to move. The heat, the screams, the undead—it was too much.
They were trapped.
And just when it felt like nothing worse could happen—fog rolled in.
Thick. Pale. Icy.
It swallowed everything. The fire. The undead. The noise. The sky.
They couldn't see. Couldn't hear. Couldn't even tell if they were still alive or already dead.
And then…
Silence.