By the time we got back it was almost 2am. The gate was closed, even with the bright beam of the xenon headlights no one appears to open the gate. Damn, "makan gaji buta..." A toot of the horn brought not the guards, instead another colleague appear from the guard house. He opened the gate and we cruised in.
Get the roof up, cut the engine and walk slowly to the main door. Just as I reached for the door knob, the two guards appear. They look shaken and the Indian guy start muttering in Tamil to our Administrator. It turns out that just before we arrived, the guards saw something that looks like a lady dragging a long white cloth. They followed it right up to the door before it disappears.
This, after our colleague left his room to sleep in the guard house. Why ? He keep hearing someone or something calling out to him whenever he is in his room.
That night the three of us ended up moving beds, mattresses and pillows to spend the night like refugees in one single room. Forgoing privacy and privileges, succumbing to fear. Letting our base instinct pacify itself with the perceived security offered by the proximity of another human being. But...As I lay myself to sleep, I can't help but wonder, is it really my two other friends that is sleeping in the room ? Is it really them or what appears to be them. I do not dare ask, nor do I sleep as I lay waiting for the morning sun to burn away the fear and uncertainty.