“Mike!” Roger called from his room. “Someone’s been in here!”

Mike stepped inside, one eyebrow arched, carefully scanning every corner of the room.
“What makes you think that?”

“The fact that my suitcase is open and my shirts are all messed up,” Roger snapped. “Need more details on why this feels suspicious?”

Mike froze for a moment, ignoring Roger’s sarcastic response as he tried to piece together everything that had happened so far.

Earlier, the two friends had lingered in the hotel’s restaurant, sipping free whiskey after the night’s bizarre events. Their nerves began to settle, exhaustion took over, and they agreed to head back to their rooms until morning – to nap a little and then visit the sheriff to explain the situation.

“Anything missing?” Mike asked while Roger emptied the suitcase, checking each item.

“At first glance, it all looks normal – three shirts, one pair of pants, one… uh…” Roger paused. “What the hell is this?” He pulled out a crumpled note made of strange, brownish paper. Its grimy appearance suggested it had seen better days.

“This definitely isn’t mine,” Roger said, voice trembling slightly. “God, someone was in my room while I was asleep, and I didn’t notice a thing!”

“Calm down,” Mike tried to soothe him. “Think logically. We were half-awake all night because of those footsteps, and we’ve been out of our rooms for a few hours now.”

Roger took a deep breath, eyeing his friend skeptically.
“What you’re saying makes sense, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. You know that, right?”

Mike couldn’t help but laugh.
“Truth be told, I’m not sure I even want to check my own room right now,” he said, pointing his thumb toward the adjacent door. “This sofa here looks like a fantastic spot for a nap.”

Roger was still breathing heavily, torn between laughing, crying, or screaming. A flurry of emotions swirled in his head, but eventually Mike’s comedic gestures – pointing exaggeratedly at the next room and then flopping dramatically onto the little sofa – earned a snort of laughter. Roger collapsed onto his bed in resignation.

“Mike, what the hell is going on here?”

“I promise you, this isn’t some elaborate prank I arranged to stress you out,” Mike said, prompting a shared chuckle.

“I know the last few months I’ve been holed up at home because the world outside was stressing me out,” Roger admitted, “but how did we land in some Agatha Christie novel?!”

“Agatha Christie? So far, no one’s been hurt,” Mike pointed out, adopting a lecturer’s tone. “I’d say that’s not quite her style.”

Roger was only half-listening, his gaze glued to the piece of paper he’d found in his suitcase.

“Come on, don’t hold out on me,” Mike prodded. “Anything interesting written on it?”

“Uh…” Roger stuttered. “Not sure it’s actually ‘written’ with anything coherent. Take a look – it’s all scribbles.”

Mike got up from the sofa, crossed to the bed, and took the mysterious paper. The first thing he noticed was the hasty, sloppy scrawl. But even though it was messy, he managed to decipher the text:

“The key is in the light. You will find the way.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Roger muttered.

“Why would I know any better than you?” Mike asked, staring at the note. The words seemed to pulse in his mind. “The key is in the light. You will find the way.” It sounded like part of a riddle, fueling both his curiosity and tension.

“Mike, staring at it won’t make anything brighter,” Roger quipped, pulling Mike out of his thoughts.

“I think…” Mike began, but his sentence was cut off by a sudden knock on the door. The two friends froze, nerves taut.

“Who the hell could that be?” Roger grumbled.

Mike opened the door. Standing there was the sheriff – tall, slightly stooped, his eyes scanning the room with keen interest.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” the sheriff said. “Hope I’m not interrupting. I hear you had… an unusual night.”

He settled into one of the chairs without waiting for an invitation. Roger immediately launched into the story – strange footsteps, scattered clothes, the mysterious note. Mike stayed silent, watching how the sheriff reacted to each detail.

“I see,” the sheriff mumbled when Roger finished. “Sounds… curious. But listen, fellas, in a small town like Silverton, it’s not unusual for some drunk to run amok in the middle of the night. We’ll find him, tell him to knock it off. Probably just a prank.”

“A prank?!” Roger nearly shouted. “Sheriff, someone was in my room! This isn’t some drunken joke.”

The sheriff waved a dismissive hand. “I hear you, but trust me – here in Silverton, things aren’t usually as dramatic as they seem. Try to relax, grab something to eat, get some sleep. You’re tired, and that can make you imagine all sorts of things.”

He stood, adjusted his hat, made a gesture to show that the conversation is over and left the room, leaving both friends confused and irritated.

Mike kept his gaze on the closed door. The note in his pocket felt like it was burning a hole there. “The key is in the light.” Those words wouldn’t leave him alone. Could it connect to the mirror he’d found in the mine? Logic told him it was just a coincidence, but his intuition said otherwise.

He didn’t mention it to Roger. Not yet. First, he had to figure out if his theory held any weight.

Soon after the sheriff left, they headed down to the hotel restaurant. An odd quiet lingered there, and the waiter seemed distracted. Roger ate with obvious pleasure, but Mike just pushed his food around, lost in thought.

“We need sleep,” Roger said once he finished eating. “I can’t handle any more drama right now.”

Mike nodded, still preoccupied with the note and the thought of the mirror. They returned to their rooms and fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep, drained by the night’s tension.

By the time they woke, darkness had already fallen.
They met again in Roger’s room, where the dim glow of a bedside lamp barely held back the encroaching night. Roger sat on the bed, hands on his knees, staring at the window. Outside, the street looked quiet and almost lifeless. Mike stood leaning against the wall, arms folded, the note still tucked in his jacket pocket.

“This place is driving me crazy,” Roger said, breaking the silence. “It’s like the very air is weighed down by… something. I can’t explain it.”

Mike nodded thoughtfully. “There’s definitely something off. But I think it’s not just a feeling. There’s some pattern here. We just can’t see it yet.”

“Oh, sure,” Roger huffed. “We’ll ‘find the pattern’ in all this madness, right? Like every horror story protagonist who dies first.”

Mike let out a small laugh, trying to diffuse the tension. “Maybe you’re right. But I think you know what we have to do.”

Roger turned away from the window, looking at his friend. “You mean go back to the mine? Seriously?”

“Exactly,” Mike said, stepping forward with growing confidence in his voice. “We don’t know who left that note or why, but something’s happening over there. This isn’t a coincidence, Roger. If we don’t figure it out now, we may never get another chance.”

Roger sighed heavily, shaking his head. “This is the dumbest thing we’ve ever done – and we’ve done a lot of dumb stuff, Mike.”

“That’s precisely why we’re here,” Mike said with a grin that slightly melted Roger’s skepticism. “You and me – we’re good at diving into situations no sane person would accept, and we always survive. What could go wrong?”

“I could make a list,” Roger said dryly, but he got up and started tying his shoes. “Fine, I’ll go. But if I die, I’m haunting you forever, Mike.”

“I’m counting on it,” Mike replied, adjusting his flashlight. “I always figured my spirit could use some company.”

As Roger shrugged on his jacket, there was a soft knock on the door. Both friends froze. Roger shot Mike a glance, and Mike gestured for silence. Moving quietly, he cracked the door—no one was there. The hallway lay empty, lit only by the faint glow of old wall sconces.

“This just keeps getting better,” Roger muttered as he closed the door again.

Mike grabbed his backpack, making sure they had everything they needed. “Come on, Roger. If we stay here any longer, we really might lose our minds. The sooner we figure this out, the sooner we can leave.”

“Ready,” Roger said, though his tone suggested otherwise. “But you’re going first. If someone gets eaten by zombies, it’s gonna be you.”

Mike laughed as they stepped out into the hotel corridor. “That’s fair.”

They left the hotel and walked along the silent streets. The night was unusually cold and still, as if the entire town were holding its breath. The only sound was their own footsteps echoing in the hush.

“Don’t you think it’s weird,” Roger said, breaking the silence, “that everyone here seems to know something we don’t?”

“Maybe,” Mike answered. “Or maybe we just think we’re more important than we actually are.”

“You know what? I’ll agree with that. But someone was in my room, Mike. That’s not my imagination.”

Mike nodded but didn’t reply. He could still feel the weight of the mirror in his pocket, and the words from the note echoed in his mind. “The key is in the light.” This wasn’t just a silly note – it was a clue.

“What are you plotting?” Roger asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I’ll let you know when I’m sure,” Mike said. “But first, we have to see that mine.”