Cana and I exchanged looks, not daring to move even an inch for fear of being spotted, even though we are inside the safety of the hidden room.

  "Any chance those are Major Coleman's guys?" Cana whispered.

  "Maybe," I said. "The only ones looking for us right now are either Major Coleman or the cultists, after all. But do you recognize his voice?"

  Cana shook her head.

  "Then we stay quiet," I said. "Pretend we're not here. Until we're absolutely, one hundred percent sure that they are Major Coleman's men."

  "I like that plan," she said as she put on a faded, denim jacket over her white ruffle top we "borrowed from the mall.

  "Umm," Mr. Oliveros said. "I'm not sure what you mean. And unfortunately, you caught me at a bad time. I'm just about headed to the toilet. It appears my breakfast does not agree with me."

  The conversation was a bit muffled, so Cana and I put our ears to the dusty wall. I used the sleeves of one of the jackets on the rack to clean a spot and placed my ear there.

  "Please, sir," The stranger said. "This won't take long. All we need to know is if some kids went here and pretended to be haunteds."

  "Whether there is or there is not a kid that came here is none of your business," Mr. Oliveros said. "Security will be on their way—"

  "That kid might be my son," The visitor quickly said. "He had a habit of running away from home. This makes it his third this month."

  "So that's their play," I whispered. "Pretend they are some parents looking for their run-away son. If they come here before us, Mr. Mr. Oliveros might have believed them. But since he already saw our headless pictures...

  "Honestly? It could be Major Coleman," Cana said. "You know how good that man is at making stuff up on the spot. I could believe this as one of his stories."

  I agreed. But we decided not to reveal ourselves just yet and just kept listening.

  "I see," Mr. Mr. Oliveros said. "We do get parents like you from time to time. Allow me to put your mind at ease. You are my first visitors for today."

  "I see, I see," The visitor said. "That is good news, then."

  "Well if that's all, then," Mr. Mr. Oliveros said.

  "There's one more thing," The visitor said. "We can't have you meet those kids. So I'm afraid I'm gonna have to kill you."

  Cana clasped both of her hands on her mouth.

  I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding slowly. It's them, I mouthed to her.

  Keeping her hands on her mouth, she nodded assent.

  Suddenly, the silence of the room was broken by a blaring alarm, followed by metallic rolling and clicking in place. Behind us, we heard something groaning and shaking.

  When we looked, a hole in the floor was suddenly there.

  "What did you do!?" The visitor yelled.

  "You really think this place wouldn't be equipped with countermeasures to deal with lunatics like you?" Mr. Mr. Oliveros said. "This isn't my first rodeo. All windows had been blocked with automatic steel shutters. Any second now, security will be swarming this room. And mind you, they will be armed."

  "What a coincidence," the visitor said. "So are we."

  "How did you—" That was the last thing we'd heard from Mr. Oliveros before a loud gunshot cut him off.

  I looked at Cana, who was still keeping her mouth quiet. Her eyes were panicking.

  I grabbed two caps from the hooks on the wall, one brown and one red to replace our own.

  Cana took the red one and went immediately to the hole on the floor that just opened.

  "So what's the plan?" another voice said, making me stay for a bit. Although the alarms are still blaring, I am positive this is from another guy. Because he's voice is more high pitched from the earlier guy.

  I have no idea how they're going to get out of here. But knowing this cultists, they'd probably shoot their way out. They didn't seem to be too shy with using their guns. How did they even got that in anyway?

  Looking back, I saw Cana already disappeared down the hole. I put on my brown cap and put on a black, military-looking leather jacket over my blue striped v-neck and went to the hole. Crouching over it now, I could see that the hole was a tight squeeze. Like a tunnel waterslide. As I started my descent, I made sure that every step I took was as quiet as possible.

  The mettalic ladder was cold to the touch. And looks new, unused. And the stuffy and dry air confirms that. The descent was uncomfortable to say the least. The bare and smooth cement grey walls confines us so tightly that my breath bounces back to my face as soon as it left my mouth.

  The ladder started vibrating. Overhead, I heard a new noise despite the blaring alarms, making me look up as I climbed down. The fake floor slid into position, hiding us down here. I tried to listen to any more noises coming from up there but failed to hear any. It was cold down here.

  The alarm goes quieter and more muffled as we go further down. And down and down it went. I tried looking down, to see how much deeper it is to the bottom. But Cana was blocking my vision so I could only see that there is at least light down there.

  "How much further?" I asked. My voice echoing between the narrow walls around us.

  "I don't know," Cana said. "I can't tell."

  It took a while before we reached the bottom. When my foot hit the floor, we found ourselves staring down a long hallway. Another metallic ladder was at the end. I looked up again. The fake floor is still in position.

  "Looks like they haven't found the secret passage yet."

  "For now," Cana said. "Let's get out of here."

  Spiders have taken the task of redecorating this place with massive cobwebs. The walls echo back with each step we take. Eerie white light from the fluorescent lights struggles to break through out of its dusty compartment. I guess we should be thankful that the lights are still working. Who even turn these lights on? Maybe they were activated with the alarm?

  If I didn't know any better, I'd say we were walking through a haunted house in an amusement park.

  About halfway through the tunnel, the ceiling above our heads shook, coupled with a muffled rumbling that soon passed.

  "What was that?" Cana asked, brushing the dust off of her hair.

  "I don't know..." I said as I did the same.

  "Are we safe down here?" she asked.

  Before I could answer, there was another rumbling, another wave of dust coming down our way. After brushing off the dust, I inspected the ceiling. I couldn't find any cracks or something note worrying about.

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  "You know what? Scratch that," Cana said. "I'd rather not stay here and find out."

  She took off running to the ladder. It was a short sprint and we immediately reached the opposite side. Cana wasted no time upon reaching the ladder and started climbing up.

  Upstairs, we found ourselves in a small, square room with a single lightbulb. And there was only one exit.

  A single metal door.

  What if it was locked?

  Or too old and rusted to be open?

  What if the cultists found the secret door while we're stuck here?

  These concerns popped up in my head. Judging from the state of how unsused this tunnel is, it's hard not to worry.

  Cana, fortunately, didn't share my tendency to overthink. She immediately turned the knob and I heard a click. The door creaks as Cana tries to push it outward as if groaning about its rusted hinges. A sliver of light to penetrate the darkness we were in. I could feel the loud, zooming noises outside reverberating throughout the tunnel.

  "Hmmphh!" Cana pushed. But the door didn't move any further. "I think it's stuck."

  My eyes immedietely inspected the door. It was slightly askew from the doorframe so the edges of the door got caught in the doorframe whenever Cana pushed. Maybe a bolt rusted out of its hinge or something.

  Holding the door handle, I pushed the door up. Which proved to be too heavy for one hand. So I tried again with both hands to push it up till the door was lined perfectly with the door frame.

  "Help me push," I said to Cana while I struggled with the weight of the door.

  The door continued whining as we pushed with all we had until my eyes and ears were assaulted with bright light and noises that I had to close them.

  When my eyes adjusted, I realized I was outside. And with that, the fear of being caught by the cultists gripped me. My head whipped to both sides of the exit, expecting a group of cultists waiting for us to emerge. But they weren't there. In fact, there were no people there. No pedestrians, no commuters.

  "Cana," I said.

  Together, we watch all sorts of vehicles speed by. I looked up and found the trees and road barriers installed way above our heads, where jeepneys, buses and other public utility vehicles drive by.

  "We're down the underpass?" Cana said. "How deep did we climb down? We were on the second floor, you know."

  We were standing on a yellow curb. It was narrow. Not fit for foot traffic. Which is to be expected because people aren't supposed to use this vehicular underpass. Which means there is no sidewalk for pedestrians. This narrow edge means one literal slip up and we'd be on the morning news tomorrow. Assuming we aren't already after what Cana and I did in the mall.

  "Well, at least we're sure no cultist would ever be here," I said.

  There was a series of steps bolted into the concrete wall on the right of the door. The steps are brown with rust and age. It leads up to a small shack, over a road barrier. It's back facing us.

  "I think this ladder is meant for us but..." I said.

  Cana followed my gaze. "You think it won't hold our weight?"

  "I think it will turn to dust at the touch."

  Cana looked down to the road leading up. "We can try walking up this ramp instead? It's a tight fit, though."

  "No kidding," I said. Watching the white Toyota zoom past us, bringing with it, a hot gust of wind, I opted to climb for the ladder.

  "Hey, let me go first," Cana said. "I'm way lighter than you. So it can probably hold my weight."

  "Probably."

  "But you stay down here," Cana continued. "In case something goes wrong."

  "Well, let's hope not," I agreed.

  Cana's hand went to the step of the ladder. She gave it a good pull. Wiggled it out a bit. But it didn't budge.

  She turned to me. "I think it'll be okay," she said.

  I nodded. "Be careful."

  "That's what you're down here for, silly."

  I smiled. "Of course."

  Cana put a foot on the step and started climbing. Unlike the tunnel we went down, this was a clearly shorter ladder. But I can't help but feel tense because I know that one literal slip-up and she would come crashing down to solid concrete, straight into oncoming traffic.

  When she was halfway up, I positioned myself at the bottom of the ladder. I watched her climb over the road barrier and breathe a sigh of relief.

  "Climb up," Cana said. "It'll hold."

  She started to look around. "Wait," she said.

  And she left my sight.

  "Cana?" I called out after 10 seconds.

  The sun was on my back. It must have been afternoon because already, the sun was cooking the back of my neck.

  When she didn't reply, I tested the steps the way Cana did. I put one foot on the bottom step and lifted myself up, putting all my weight on that single step. It felt solid. Convinced it would hold, I climbed up the ladder quickly.

  Upon climbing over the road barrier, I saw Can crouched over by the window of the small shack. I crouched to her.

  "Hey," I said. "You didn't answer." There was an edge of anger in my tone.

  "Sorry," Cana said in a hushed voice. She showed me her hand. She was holding a blue thick rope. I traced the rope back to the pulley machine.

  "I was trying to yank this down to you," Cana said. "But there are people inside."

  I got up to a kneeling position by the window. Through the window, I could see there were 2 people inside. One was lounging back in his chair, his arms behind his head. He was talking to the other guy who was standing, eating chips. No doubt they'd be asking questions about how did we get here or why are we hiding behind a government building so we thought it best to duck and sneak away. Once we're at the curb, we stood up and ran across the road. There was light traffic compared to down below so getting hit by a car isn't a problem here.

  "Where to?" Cana asked.

  "Let's just follow the road," I said. "We just need to get as far away from here as possible."

  So we ran. With no destination in mind. We ran on the sidewalk. It was practically empty, except for the occasional jogger, who paid us no attention at all. We ran past rows of bike lanes, under the canopy of tall trees with red flowers and grayish trunks sheltering us from the hot, afternoon sun. There was the whole stretch of a golf course and museum to our left. Running by the main road, it is expectedly few of features. No tall buildings. No street vendors. I didn't even see a loading or unloading zone for the last 5 minutes we've been running.

  We reached an intersection and decided to cross the road again. I know we need to put some distance between us and our pursuers but we've been running for a while now. And I'm getting pretty tired.

  The featureless surroundings changed into busy buildings as we entered a residential area.

  We ran past a carinderia, weaved through a flood of people out on lunch, and turned right to the first street only for the street to end with a wall and an altar dedicated to the Virgin Mary.

  We stopped at the spot.

  "It's a dead end," Cana said.

  "Yeah well," I said, panting. I looked back at the street we came from. People were passing by. A vendor was pedaling his mobile pandesal bakery. A shirtless old man was walking his dog. Nothing really screams of cultists. "I think we've run far enough. And I don't think I can run any further. Can you?"

  In response, she slumped down to the concrete steps leading up to the gated door of one of the houses, leaning backward on her hands outstretched to prop her body up.

  I walked over and joined her. For a moment, the two of us just remained silent as we attempted to get air back into our lungs with quick, short breaths. Soon, the soreness in my calves and the cramping feeling in the right side of my abdomen starts to fade away. The burning sensations in my muscles are replaced with something that feels good.

  "Was that our fault?" Cana was the first to break the silence.

  I looked at her. She was looking down the street, not meeting my eyes. I let out a deep breath. I already know what she means but still, I had to ask.

  "What was?"

  "Mr. Oliveros..." she simply said.

  I looked ahead. At the house with the brown gates and grilles in front of us. Through the window, I could see figures darting around. But none came out to check on us two kids sitting in front of a stranger's house.

  "I don't think so," I said.

  "How do you know?"

  I turned around again. This time, she met my eyes. There was no tears in her eyes. She didn't even look sad. More like...guilty. I know that face when I see one. I stare at it every day I wash my face in front of the mirror. "Remember when I asked Mr. Oliveros about the intruder they had 10 years ago?"

  She nodded. "I remember. So you think the cult attacked then?"

  I gave it some thought. Then shook my head. "No. The cult only exposed themselves now that they've grown powerful... because of me"

  I said that last part in a whisper.

  "Vergil..."

  "Anyways," I continued. Eager to change the topic but also to present my argument. "They've had an incident like that. But that wasn't cult-related."

  "Dark tourism," Cana said. "That's what he said, right? About it attracting crazy people."

  "Yup," I said. "They already had a system in place for something like that. So I doubt they'd think it was the cultists that attacked them now."

  "So what?" Cana said. "It was bound to happen. If not that cultist. Some crazed Dark Tourist would have?"

  "Would have, could have," I said. "I don't know, honestly."

  Cana sighed. "Maybe you're right," she said. But judging from her face, she didn't buy my explanation. "I don't get it. Were we followed? How did they know?"

  "I don't think so," I said. "I didn't see anyone following us."

  "Me neither."

  "If there was someone following us," I said. "Why wait till we are inside city hall? That was such a risky move for them to make when they could have just grabbed us off the streets. Sure, it would cause a commotion but judging their recent actions, I don't think they're the type of people to worry about that."

  Cana leaned forward. "Then how did they find us?"

  "Maybe they didn't," I said after giving it some thought. "Their leader asked if we've come by. They weren't sure. Maybe they really didn't know."

  "It was just a coincidence?" Cana said. "I don't think these people do coincidences."

  "Well, they do know that we are alone. Scared. And needed a way to go back to Major Coleman," I continued. "And the closest solution availabe to us is the city hall."

  "Well, not anymore," Cana continued. She clasped her hand together, like in a prayer. "What do we do?" How do we go back now?" That was our only chance..."

  I thought the same. I've struggled raking my brain for a solution until one came walking down the streets holding a bag of Shade Museum souvenirs.

  "Maybe not," I said, pointing at the happy family. "Excuse me, could you give us directions to the Shade Museum?"