The sound of my own voice on the other end of the phone had shaken me to the core.
I glanced at my phone. 7:48 AM. The world outside seemed normal. Birds chirped, and the sounds of early risers drifting from the lounge filled the air. But something inside me knew that nothing was normal anymore.
Pulling on a hoodie, I walked out of the room and found the others gathered in the lounge area. Jacob had a newspaper in one hand, a cup of steaming tea in the other. Ambrose was busy flipping through the resort's activity brochure with a sort of ironic amusement painted on his face.
"Mornin'," I said.
Jacob looked up and nodded. "Sleep well?"
I paused for a beat. "Better than usual. You guys hear anything last night?"
Ambrose sipped his tea. "You mean the weird creaking noises in the walls? Or whatever made the dog bark next door?"
I forced a smile. I didn't want to sound paranoid or delusional. Not yet. So I let it go. Maybe... maybe it was all just a vivid dream.
We spent the day indulging in what the hill station had to offer. Ziplining, trekking, and lots of bad jokes. Bobby and I kept exchanging looks now and then, but he hadn't seen or felt anything last night. Or so he claimed. I still hadn't told him. Not properly.
The evening rolled in with an amber sunset behind the misty treetops. We returned to the cottage, legs tired, bodies aching, hearts a bit lighter. We ordered dinner in and gathered in one room to eat. The staff brought the food promptly, a cheerful young guy who smiled like he didn't have a worry in the world.
"Sir," he said, setting down the last plate, then hesitated. "If I may ask… have you all been comfortable here? No disturbances, I hope?"
Something about his voice made me look up sharply.
"Why do you ask?" I questioned.
He scratched the back of his neck. "Just... the forest can be a little strange at night. Management tells us not to be around between 3 and 5 AM. Cold and fog, they say. But... there are other stories too."
That made the room go silent.
"What kind of stories?" Bobby asked, his fork halfway to his mouth.
The staff gave a nervous laugh. "Nothing, really. Just tales. A few workers claimed they saw things. Shadows. Figures. I once thought I saw someone by the gate at around four in the morning. Tall... unmoving. I didn't step out. Didn't dare to."
Ambrose leaned forward, his face lighting up with mock seriousness. "Did the figure wave at you? Whisper sweet nothings? Maybe it was a lonely spirit looking for a friend."
The boy chuckled, but his laugh was thin. Forced.
"It didn't move. It just stood there. I turned around for a second to get my phone, and when I looked back, it was gone."
Bobby shrugged. "Probably a local messing around. Don't worry about it. You sleep well. We'll take care of any ghosts."
The boy nodded quickly, bowed, and left. But his story had already added a new layer to the unease gnawing at the edges of my mind.
Later that night, Bobby and I were the last ones awake, just like the night before. He finally asked what was on my mind.
"Okay, spill it. You've been twitchy all day. What happened last night?"
I hesitated, then told him everything. The siren. The empty corridor. The phone ringing. My own voice on the other end.
Bobby blinked, his expression caught between amusement and concern. "You sure it wasn't a dream?"
"I thought so too," I said. "Until Anita called me this morning and said it was only 2:30 AM when I called her. Not 4:30. Time didn't match up."
Bobby looked at me, silent for a moment, then said, "Weird. But not impossible. Sometimes phone clocks screw up. Tower mismatches."
"And what if it wasn't that? What if there's something... wrong here? The staff, the locals, they keep saying the same thing. 3 to 5 AM. Something's not right."
He ran his fingers through his hair. "Alright. Let's do something. Tomorrow, we go out. Ask questions. Talk to the locals. Maybe even see if there's any old legend tied to this place. If this is some weird science thing, I want to know. If it's ghosts... well, I want to be prepared."
I gave him a grin. "That's the Bobby I know."
He leaned back, arms behind his head. "Just don't go wandering around at 4 AM again. You might find yourself talking to your evil twin."
I laughed, but the sound felt hollow in the stillness of the room.
That night, I slept with one eye open, waiting for the siren.
It never came.
But fate doesn't always play by the same rules.
The next night, it did.
It was 2:58 AM. The room was silent except for Bobby's steady breathing. My phone buzzed.
Anita.
Confused, I answered.
She spoke about the same issue we'd argued over last night. Her tone, her words—it was like déjà vu. I blinked. My chest tightened. "Anita, are you serious? We just talked about this yesterday. You called me at 2 AM and we argued."
She was silent, then answered, "Alex… I haven't called you since yesterday morning. I didn't call you at night. I've only called you once this whole trip."
I sat up, fully awake. "But… the call. We fought."
"We made up in the morning," she said gently. "Don't you remember?"
My heart raced. I hung up gently, staring at the phone. Then I checked the call log.
One call.
Only one.
Morning.
I turned to Bobby and shook him. He groaned. "What? What happened now?"
I whispered everything. The call. The log. Anita's denial.
He frowned. "You think something's messing with time here? Or your memory?"
"I don't know, man. But something's definitely not right."
We sat there, staring at each other, silence wrapping around us like the mist outside.
And somewhere, faint but certain, I thought I heard the siren again.