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It started as an ordinary afternoon. Twelve-year-old Jake was playing in the woods behind his grandparents' house, kicking up leaves and searching for adventure. That’s when he saw it—a frayed rope, half-buried in the dirt. It stretched deep into the ground, disappearing beneath layers of earth and roots.
Curious, he reached down and gave it a tug. It didn’t budge. He yanked again, harder this time. The rope moved slightly, sending a strange vibration through the soil. Jake's heart pounded. What was this thing connected to?
Determined, he braced his feet and pulled with all his strength. Then, suddenly—the ground shifted beneath him. A low, hollow thunk echoed through the trees. Dust and dirt collapsed into a dark opening. A hidden trapdoor had just unlocked.
Jake stumbled back, staring wide-eyed at the gaping hole in the forest floor. Inside, a rusted metal ladder led downward into darkness. The air that rose from below was stale, carrying a scent of something long forgotten.
Against every warning his parents had ever given him, Jake’s curiosity won. He climbed down.
His feet hit solid ground, and he fumbled for his flashlight. The beam flickered over brick walls, old wooden crates, and something even stranger—papers, maps, and military insignia covered in dust. It looked like an underground bunker, abandoned for decades.
But then, the light caught something else.
In the corner of the room, partially covered by a tattered tarp, was a metal hatch with a biohazard symbol on it. And just as Jake reached out—something moved in the shadows.
Whatever he had found, someone—or something—had been waiting.