In the city of Elmira-where cobbled streets met sleek storefronts and cafés buzzed with student chatter-Dr. Joshua Bennett lived a life of quiet order. At just twenty-five, freshly graduated from medical school, he had returned to Almira University...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Same morning - Elmira University Medical Center
Mike Rodriguez arrived at the hospital at 7:30 AM, settling into his office in the Human Resources department with his usual coffee and stack of paperwork. As the HR manager for the medical center, he handled everything from staff scheduling to emergency leave requests—which is exactly why the early morning call about Dr. Joshua Bennet had struck him as odd.
The call had come in at 6:45 AM from someone claiming to represent Dr. Bennet, requesting immediate emergency leave for a "family crisis." Standard protocol required documentation, but the caller had insisted on bypassing normal procedures due to the urgent nature of the situation.
Mike had processed the request—he'd had no choice—but something about it bothered him. He'd worked with Joshua for three years, had gotten drinks with him countless times. Joshua's parents lived in California and were in good health as far as Mike knew. If there had been a real family emergency, Joshua would have called Mike himself—especially after what had happened with Aina.
By 9 AM, Mike's administrative concern had shifted to personal worry. He tried calling Joshua's cell phone. It went straight to voicemail.
"Hey man, it's Mike from HR. I processed your emergency leave request this morning, but wanted to check if you're okay. The whole 'family emergency' thing seemed... unlike you. Call me back when you can."
He hung up and stared at his computer screen, where Dr. Martinez had already been assigned to cover Joshua's patients. Everything looked official, properly documented, but Mike's instincts were screaming that something was wrong.
Mike had seen enough legitimate family emergencies in his HR role to know what they looked like—frantic calls from the person themselves, not representatives; proper documentation; follow-up communication. This felt manufactured.
Something cold settled in Mike's stomach. After what had happened with Aina—the way she'd disappeared, leaving Joshua devastated—Mike had become more attuned to his friend's wellbeing. Joshua would never leave without some kind of personal contact, emergency or not. Especially not after everything he'd been through with Aina's sudden departure.
Mike remembered watching them from a distance as men with guns had appeared and Aina had fought with trained precision that seemed impossible for a university student, as she'd looked at Joshua with such anguish before disappearing into the night. He'd found Joshua afterward, standing alone in the garage, looking like his world had just collapsed.
Since then, Joshua had been different—distracted, worried, constantly checking his phone for messages that never came. Mike had tried to get him to talk about what had happened, but Joshua had only said that Aina was in danger and he didn't know how to help her.
Now Joshua was gone too, and Mike's instincts were screaming that it was connected to whatever had taken Aina away.
Mike spent the next hour trying every way he could think of to reach Joshua. Cell phone, home phone, email—nothing. He even drove by Joshua's apartment building during his lunch break, but the building manager said he hadn't seen Dr. Bennet that morning.
"Though come to think of it," the manager added, "there was some commotion earlier. Around 8 AM. Thought I heard someone running in the stairwell, but by the time I looked out, the street was empty."
Mike's unease deepened into genuine alarm. As HR manager, he'd seen legitimate family emergencies before—they came with documentation, follow-up calls, personal contact from the employee themselves. This felt wrong on every level.
But there was one person who might know where Joshua was, or at least might be worried about him too. The problem was, Mike had no way to contact her.
Aina Yilmaz—or whatever her real name was—had vanished that night in the parking garage. Mike had been the one to help Joshua search for any trace of her afterward. Her phone number was disconnected, her apartment abandoned, her university enrollment mysteriously suspended. It was as if the dangerous world that had claimed her that night had now come for Joshua too.
Mike sat in his office that evening, staring at his computer screen and trying to think of any connection he might have missed. Then he remembered something—when Joshua had asked for help finding Aina's contact information, Mike had pulled her university records. Her email address might still be active.
"Long shot," Mike muttered to himself, but he pulled up his notes from that previous search.
There it was: .
Mike stared at the email address for a long moment, trying to decide how to explain something he didn't fully understand himself. As HR manager, he'd seen his share of workplace relationships, but Joshua and Aina's situation had seemed different—more complicated, more secretive.
Finally, he started typing:
Subject: Joshua is missing - urgent
Aina,
I don't know if you'll get this email, but I have to try. I'm Mike Rodriguez, HR manager at Elmira Medical Center. I work with Joshua, and I was there that night in the parking garage three weeks ago. I saw what happened—the men with guns, the way you fought them, the way you had to leave him behind.
Joshua is missing, and I think it's connected to whatever took you away that night.
This morning I processed an emergency leave request for him - supposedly for a "family emergency." But the call didn't come from Joshua himself, and something felt wrong about it. When I try to reach him, all his phones go straight to voicemail.
I drove by his apartment building and the manager mentioned hearing someone running in the stairwells around 8 AM, but Joshua was nowhere to be found.
Ever since you disappeared, Joshua has been different. Worried, constantly checking his phone, always looking over his shoulder. I think he knew this might happen.
I don't understand what kind of danger you're both in, but I know Joshua loves you and I know you care about him. Those men in the parking garage—are they the same ones who took him?
If you know anything about where Joshua might be, or if there's anything you can do to help him, please contact me. My number is 555-0147.
He's been lost without you these past three weeks. Don't let him be lost forever.
-Mike RodriguezHR Manager, Elmira University Medical Center
He read the email three times before hitting send, hoping it would reach her, hoping she would care enough to respond, hoping she might have answers that his HR training had never prepared him to handle.
In the quiet of his office, Mike stared at the computer screen and wondered if he'd just sent a message into the void—or if somewhere out there, someone was waiting for exactly this kind of contact.
AUTHOR's NOTE
I'd really like to know — how did this chapter make you feel?
