I push myself up. Mud sucks at my palms when I pull them free.
Cold. And thick.
I wipe both hands down my shirt. Doesn't help.
The air stays heavy. Every breath drags something extra into my lungs.
I take a step. The ground gives a little, then holds. Another step. Same.
My boots leave shallow prints that fill with dark water almost immediately.
Trees start twenty paces ahead. Thin trunks. Leaves too dark, too still. No wind. No birds. Just the low hum that never quite becomes sound.
I walk toward them.
Mud gets deeper halfway there. Ankles now. I lift each foot higher than necessary.
Slow.
One boot comes free with a wet smack. The other sticks longer. I yank. Something under the surface tugs back for half a second before letting go.
I stop. Listen.
Nothing was new there. Just the hum. And my own breathing.
The trees are closer. Bark peels in long strips.
Underneath the wood looks wrong...too smooth, too pale, like plastic molded like a tree.
I touch one anyway. Cold. Slightly flexible. I pull my hand away fast.
A narrow path cuts between the trunks. Bare dirt. No mud. I step onto it. The ground here is firm. Almost too firm. My boots leave no mark.
I follow it.
The path curves. Trees press closer on both sides. Branches hang low enough that I duck twice. Leaves brush my hair. They don't feel like leaves. Too heavy. Too smooth.
Ahead the path opens.
A backyard.
Chain-link fence on three sides. Rusted. Holes in places. Grass patchy, yellow in spots, overgrown in others. A plastic slide tipped on its side. A swing set missing one swing. The remaining seat hangs crooked, chain twisted.
Scattered around: broken toys, cracked buckets, a bicycle frame with no wheels, pieces of gadgets I half-recognize. A bent Anywhere Door panel. A cracked Bamboo Copter blade. A small pile of what looks like Take-copter leaves, faded and curled.
Everything looks like it's been thrown here and forgotten.
I walk into the middle of the yard.
The hum gets louder. Not louder in volume,just getting closer. Like it's coming from under the grass.
I stop at the swing set. Reach out. Touch the remaining chain.
Cold metal. Solid.
I pull the seat toward me. The chain creaks.
The seat swings once, slow, then stops.
Something moves behind the slide.
I turn back immediately, scanning for something.
Just to find Nothing.
Just the slide. Red plastic bleached almost pink. One side caved in.
I step closer.
A small door set into the base of the slide.
Plastic flap. Half-open.
I crouch. Push it wider with two fingers, my body in defense mode.
Dark inside. Smells like oil and wet paper.
I lean in.
A faint blue glow pulses once, deep inside. Then again. Steady. Like a heartbeat.
I pull back.
The hum spikes for half a second,sharp enough that my ears ring,then settles back to normal.
I stand up.
Look around the yard again.
The fence on the far side has a gap. Big enough to step through.
I walk toward it.
The grass gets taller the closer I get. Reaches my knees. Then my thighs.
I keep moving.
The gap in the fence is right there.
I reach it.
Put one hand on the rusted wire.
The hum stops.
Completely.
Silence was eating me constantly.
I freeze.
Behind me, something heavy shifts in the grass.
I don't turn yet, but my hand slowly reach for the bat leaning to the fence.
I just listen, getting ready. I hear the noise, getting louder.
Slow. Wet. Dragging.
Coming closer, to me.