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After nearly an hour of crouched debate in the drainage ditch, the boys finally made their decision.
They were going back for Fox.
The sun had dipped lower, turning the sky a hazy orange that bled into the cornfields. The heat still clung to the air, thick and sticky, but the shadows were growing longer, stretching across the ditch like dark fingers. The boys sat in the dirt, sweat drying on their faces, hearts still pounding from the escape.
Nathan wiped his palms on his jeans. “We can’t leave him.”
Michael nodded, jaw tight. “We’re not.”
Andrew kicked a clod of dirt. “I still think we should leave him. He’s probably fine.”
Michael shot him a look. “Andrew.”
“What? I’m just saying—Fox gets into trouble all the time.”
“Yeah,” Nathan said, “but this time it’s not his fault.”
Andrew grumbled something under his breath but didn’t argue further.
Michael leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Okay. Here’s the plan. Andrew keeps watch. Nathan and I slip back in through the window. If things go bad, we bail fast.”
Nathan nodded. “Once we’ve got Fox, we meet back here and figure out our next move.”
Andrew sighed dramatically. “Fine. Let’s do it.”
They crept through the cornfield, careful not to rustle the stalks. The dry leaves brushed against their arms, whispering like a thousand tiny voices. The smell of warm earth and sun‑baked corn filled the air — a scent that always meant summer in Taylorville.
When they reached the shack, Nathan crouched low and peered through the same broken window they’d escaped from earlier. The glass was jagged, the frame warped, but he could see inside clearly.
There he was — Fox, tied to a chair in the garage.
Nathan’s stomach twisted. Fox looked pale, scared, but alive.
Too easy, Nathan thought. Which meant one thing: a trap.
Andrew took position at a vine‑covered window, just visible enough to see inside without being seen. He pressed his face close to the glass, breath held, eyes scanning for movement.
Michael cupped his hands, boosting Nathan up. Nathan slipped through the window, landing silently on the workbench. Dust puffed up around his shoes, and he froze, listening.
Nothing.
He crouched low and moved toward Fox, stepping carefully around the scattered tools and debris.
Inside the kitchen, Frank, Winston, and Bob were still at the table, arguing loudly. Winston jabbed at the bank blueprints with a greasy finger while Frank smacked him upside the head.
“Stop poking holes in the paper, you idiot,” Frank growled.
“I’m just sayin’, mate—this part looks dodgy,” Winston protested.
“It’s upside down,” Bob snapped.
Nathan reached Fox and began untying the ropes. Fox winced as circulation returned to his arms, but he didn’t say a word. His eyes were wide, but he stayed still, trusting Nathan completely.
When the last knot came loose, Fox stood shakily and followed Nathan toward the window.
Outside, Michael and Andrew waited. Andrew had just returned from his lookout post, breathing hard.
Nathan climbed out first. Fox followed — but as he swung his leg over the sill, his foot clipped a stack of cans.
They clattered to the floor with a metallic rattle that echoed through the garage.
“Go!” Nathan hissed.
Fox tumbled out the window, landing hard in the weeds. The boys didn’t wait — they bolted into the cornfield, legs pumping, hearts pounding.
Inside, the three men burst into the garage just in time to see the last shadow disappear into the stalks.
“He’s gone!” Frank shouted. “They’re heading for the park!”
“We need to stop them before they reach the cops,” Frank growled.
“You and Winston take the field,” Bob said, already moving. “I’ll cut them off with the truck.”
“Right,” Winston said, cracking his knuckles.
The three men stormed out the front door. Bob peeled off toward the road, the blue truck roaring to life as it tore through the weeds. Frank and Winston plunged into the cornfield, hot on the boys’ trail.
The chase had begun.
Frank and Winston tore through the cornfield, stalks slapping against their arms and faces as they pushed forward. The dry leaves hissed around them, and the ground crunched beneath their boots. Sweat dripped down their temples, and the heat trapped between the rows made the air feel suffocating.
“Where do you think they went, mate?” Winston panted, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.
Frank didn’t slow down. His eyes scanned ahead, sharp and calculating. “Other side of the tree line. That park’s got pay phones. They’ll try to call the pigs.”
Winston nodded, breathless. “Then let’s move!”
They plunged into the tree line, pushing through tall, dead weeds that snagged at their clothes. The shade under the trees was cooler, but the ground was uneven, roots jutting out like hidden traps. They slid down the slope on the cornfield side, hitting the bottom of the drainage ditch with a thud.
Vines dangled from the trees above, and the two men grabbed them to climb the opposite bank. Dirt crumbled under their boots, but they hauled themselves up and emerged into the park.
The park looked peaceful — deceptively so. Two tall pines cast long shadows across the grass. A picnic table sat beneath them, and the faint sound of kids playing somewhere in the distance drifted through the air. The smell of cut grass mixed with the dusty scent of the ditch behind them.
Frank scanned the area. “Spread out. They’re here somewhere.”
They didn’t know it, but just yards away, hidden in a rill behind a rusted piece of farm machinery, the four boys were watching.
Fox crouched low, still rubbing his wrists where the ropes had dug into his skin. Nathan kept one hand on his shoulder, steadying him. Michael and Andrew peered over the edge of the rill, eyes locked on the two men.
“They’re going to search the park,” Andrew whispered. “If they don’t find us, they’ll come back here.”
Nathan nodded. “We could double back to the road. Cross into the other cornfield and wait.”
Michael shook his head. “If we could make it to the Gates of Dawn, we’d be safe.”
Andrew snorted. “They’ve got a truck. And guns.”
“Yeah, but we’ve got legs,” Michael said. “We should try.”
Fox pointed toward a structure half-swallowed by a bush. “What about that outhouse?”
The others turned to look.
It did look like an outhouse — sort of. White wooden siding. Slanted metal roof. But the door was wrong. It wasn’t a simple wooden stall door. It was a full-sized house door, complete with a brass knob and a faint shine that didn’t match the weathered siding.
“That’s a good idea,” Nathan said. “Let’s go.”
They crept toward the outhouse, staying low in case Frank or Winston doubled back. The grass brushed against their legs, and the air smelled faintly of pine sap and sun-warmed dirt. Nathan reached the door and slowly turned the knob.
The hinges creaked softly.
Inside, instead of a cramped wooden stall, they found a narrow white hallway stretching forward. The walls were smooth and clean, almost glowing in the dim light. At the far end, on the left, stood another door.
“What is this place?” Michael whispered.
No one answered.
One by one, the boys stepped inside, closing the door behind them. The air inside was cool — unnaturally so — and carried a faint hum, like distant machinery.
Fox pointed. “Let’s see what’s behind that other door.”
The boys moved cautiously down the narrow hallway toward the second door. Their footsteps echoed softly, the sound swallowed by the strange acoustics of the place.
“It’s probably a back exit,” Andrew muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.
Nathan reached for the handle and slowly turned it. The door creaked open — not to the outside, but into a vast, high-tech chamber.
The boys froze.
On either side of the doorway stretched massive computer banks, humming softly with blinking lights and glowing panels. At the front of the room, a white-lit floor glowed like a stage. Across the room, an open passage led deeper into the structure. At the rear, another white door stood closed. In the center, a large L-shaped control console gleamed — stainless steel, futuristic, alien.
Near the door sat a small wooden box, completely out of place among the advanced technology.
“What is this place?” Nathan whispered, stepping inside.
Fox drifted toward the console, drawn to it like a magnet. A thick book rested beside a monitor. He opened it, flipping through the pages, eyes widening as he read.
“Oh great,” Andrew said, throwing up his hands. “We’re being chased by armed lunatics, and Fox decides it’s story time.”
Nathan opened the wooden box. Inside were four silver bracelets, each one smooth and cool, with a small glowing circle on the top.
“Here,” he said, handing them out.
Andrew took one, then Michael, then Fox. They slipped the bracelets onto their wrists, unsure of what they were.
“Hey, what’s this button do?” Andrew asked, pressing a blue circle on his bracelet.
In a blink, he vanished — then reappeared in the glowing white-lit area at the front of the room.
“Teleportation,” Fox said, turning the bracelet around his wrist. “That’s wild.”
Michael looked around, awe mixing with fear. “So again — what is this place?”
Fox shrugged. “Maybe this book can tell us.”
Andrew paced. “Forget the tech. What about those guys outside?”
“They’re probably gone,” Michael said.
“Or doubled back,” Fox countered.
“They’d never think to look in here,” Michael said. “From the outside, it’s just an outhouse.”
Nathan pointed to the white door at the back. “I wonder what’s behind that.”
“Probably leads outside,” Michael said. “Let’s check — see if the coast is clear.”
Nathan, Andrew, and Michael approached the door. Fox stayed behind, elbows on the console, eyes scanning the book.
Nathan cracked the door open. All three boys leaned in — then Nathan shoved them back and flung the door wide.
A long white hallway stretched ahead, lined with doors on either side.
“I wonder how big this place is,” Andrew said.
“Let’s find out,” Michael replied.
“Coming, Fox?” Nathan called.
Fox closed the book and stood. But before he could reach the others, the first door burst open.
“THERE THEY ARE!” Winston shouted.
The boys screamed and bolted down the hallway. Behind them, Frank, Winston, and Bob tangled in the doorway, tripping over each other in a chaotic mess that gave the boys precious seconds to escape.
They reached a T-junction — one hallway continued straight, another veered right. On the left, two potted plants flanked a pair of elevator doors.
“Turn here!” Michael shouted.
Nathan yanked open a door on the right. The boys rushed inside — only to find themselves outside again, standing on a cliff overlooking a vast sandpit.
The boys rushed inside — only to find themselves outside again, standing on a cliff overlooking a vast sandpit.
The air hit them first.
Dry. Thin. Almost metallic.
The sky above wasn’t the Illinois sky they knew. It was a pale lavender, streaked with faint silver clouds that moved too slowly to be natural. And hanging above them — impossibly large — were two moons. One was a soft blue-white, the other a muted gold, both casting long shadows across the dunes below.
The sandpit stretched out like a crater, the size of a football field, its surface rippled by winds that didn’t seem to blow anymore. The boys stood frozen, breath caught in their throats.
“Where are we?” Andrew asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“No idea,” Michael said, pointing upward. “But look.”
Fox stepped forward, eyes wide behind his glasses. “This isn’t Earth.”
Nathan swallowed hard. “No kidding.”
The wind shifted, carrying a faint, eerie hum — like distant machinery buried beneath the sand.
“We need to hide,” Andrew said. “Just in case they saw us come in.”
“There,” Nathan said, pointing to a circular patch of trees and thorn bushes at the base of the pit. It looked like an oasis — out of place, but shelter nonetheless.
They slid down the sandy ridge, shoes sinking into the loose grains. Fox stumbled once, still shaky from being tied up, but Nathan grabbed his arm and steadied him. They moved quickly, erasing their tracks as best they could.
At the bottom, they huddled in the weeds, hearts pounding, eyes fixed on the cliff above.
“We hide here for a while,” Nathan whispered, “then try to make our way back to that control room.”
The boys crouched low beneath the thick brush of the grove. The air was cooler here, shaded by the strange trees whose leaves shimmered faintly in the moonlight. The ground smelled different — not like dirt, but something sweeter, almost like warm plastic.
They waited.
Minutes crawled by.
Then the door they’d exited earlier creaked open.
Frank, Winston, and Bob stepped through.
“Where’d those little brats go?” Bob growled, scanning the pit.
“No clue, mate,” Winston muttered. “But seriously — how the hell did kids build a place like this?”
Frank snorted. “They didn’t. Someone else did. And when we catch them, maybe they’ll tell us how to use it.”
“Let’s climb to the top and get a better view,” Bob suggested.
“Maybe they headed back to town,” Winston added.
The boys watched as the three men climbed to the rim of the sandpit, boots slipping in the loose sand. They reached the top and scanned the horizon.
“There!” Winston shouted, pointing to the right.
The men took off, sprinting into the distance until they vanished from sight.
Michael exhaled shakily. “Now’s our chance.”
The boys bolted from their hiding spot, scrambling up the sandy cliff. Their legs burned, lungs aching, but adrenaline pushed them forward. They reached the door, slipped through, and shut it behind them.
Inside the white hallway, they leaned against the wall, catching their breath.
“Back to the control room?” Andrew asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“No,” Nathan said. “That’s the first place they’ll check. We need to find somewhere else to hide.”
They moved quickly, climbing a flight of stairs and turning down another corridor. The hallways all looked the same — white walls, glowing panels, identical doors — and soon they were hopelessly lost.
Fox, still clutching the book, spoke up. “Guys, I’ve been reading this, and it’s fascinating.”
Andrew groaned. “Not now, Fox.”
“No, wait,” Michael said. “Maybe Fox found something useful.”
Nathan slowed. “What did you learn?”
Fox adjusted his glasses. “This place is huge.”
“No duh,” Andrew muttered.
“No — I mean infinite,” Fox replied. “It’s made of four types of rooms: regular rooms, outside rooms, time rooms, and parallel universe rooms.”
The boys exchanged glances.
“Time rooms are probably filled with clocks,” Andrew joked weakly.
Fox ignored him. “Regular rooms are just normal spaces — living rooms, bedrooms, stuff like that. Outside rooms are micro-planets. They’re about the size of Earth, but they exist in pocket dimensions. That sandpit we were in? That was an outside room.”
Michael blinked. “We were on another planet?”
“Sort of,” Fox said. “A pocket planet.”
Nathan rubbed his forehead. “Okay… what about time rooms?”
Fox flipped a page. “Time rooms connect to specific points in history — past, present, or future. You walk through the door, and you’re in that time. But here’s the catch: you need the bracelets to get out. If you don’t have one — or it breaks — you’re stuck.”
Andrew’s face went pale. “Forever?”
“Forever,” Fox confirmed.
“And parallel universe rooms?” Michael asked.
“Same deal,” Fox said. “They connect to alternate realities. You need the bracelet to exit.”
Michael let out a low whistle. “This place is insane.”
“You got all that from one book?” Andrew asked.
Fox nodded. “Yeah. Guys, we’ve found something incredible. We should keep this place secret.”
“Once we deal with those guys,” Michael said, “we could move this whole thing to our clubhouse — or Fox’s house.”
Nathan shook his head. “Let’s just survive today first.”
They kept walking, deeper into the hallway, voices low, minds racing.
Somewhere behind them, the corridors shifted — walls sliding silently, doors rearranging themselves, the structure adapting like a living maze.
The boys didn’t notice.
But the house did.