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The farmhands shoved Nathan, Andrew, Michael, and Fox into a cramped cellar room. The boys stumbled forward, hitting the dirt floor hard. The door slammed shut behind them with a heavy wooden thud, followed by the metallic clank of a lock sliding into place. Footsteps echoed up the stairs — slow at first, then fading into the distance.
Dust drifted through the air. The room smelled like damp earth, old potatoes, and mildew.
Michael groaned. “Great. We’re never getting out of here.”
Fox rubbed his wrists, still sore from earlier. “Yeah. Soon as the sheriff shows up, we’re toast.”
Andrew paced, running a hand through his hair. “How are we even supposed to explain what we were doing in that room? ‘Sorry, sir, we accidentally time‑traveled into an alien murder house’?”
Nathan shook his head. “Forget that. Let’s find a way out.”
The boys split up, scanning the room. The cellar was small — barely big enough for the four of them — with stone walls, a low ceiling, and a single lantern flickering weakly in the corner. Wooden shelves lined one wall, stacked with jars of preserves and dusty vegetables.
Nathan and Michael searched one side while Andrew and Fox checked the other.
Fox crouched near the shelves, running his fingers along the rough brick. Something felt off — a faint draft, a shift in the air. He leaned closer.
Behind a wooden shelf, he spotted something odd — a piece of wood wedged into the brick wall, like a makeshift plug.
“Hey guys, look at this,” Fox called. “I think there’s a hole behind it.”
Nathan hurried over. “Let’s see. Michael, help me move the shelf. Fox, Andrew — grab the other side.”
They grunted and shoved the shelf aside, jars rattling dangerously. Once it was clear, Nathan pulled the loose board free.
Behind it was a narrow tunnel — dark, cramped, and smelling of damp soil.
“Looks like it runs under the whole house,” Nathan said, peering inside.
“Maybe it leads out,” Andrew said, hope flickering in his voice.
“Alright, Andrew — you go first,” Michael said.
Andrew blinked. “Why me?”
“Because you’re the biggest,” Michael said. “If you fit, we all fit.”
Andrew rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
He crawled in, grumbling under his breath. Michael followed, then Nathan, and finally Fox.
The passage was tight, forcing them to crawl on hands and knees. Dirt crumbled beneath their palms. Cobwebs brushed their faces. The air was thick and stale, making every breath feel heavy.
After a few minutes, they reached the midpoint beneath the house — and froze.
Voices drifted down from above, muffled but unmistakably close.
The boys held their breath.
“Soon, my dear,” said the man. His voice was smooth, almost rehearsed. “We’ll eliminate the ruler of this pathetic little planet. Reduce it to slag.”
“And then,” the woman purred, “we’ll repopulate it with others from Sirius 5. The humans will be our food.”
She laughed — a sound like cracked glass scraping across metal.
Andrew’s eyes widened. “Oh man…”
“Be patient,” the man said. “Everything is going according to plan.”
“I want to devour them,” the woman hissed. “To lay my slimy larva in their fleshy carcasses.”
Fox’s stomach twisted. He swallowed hard.
“This is just the beginning,” the man continued. “Soon, we’ll expand. We’ll rule the universe.”
“But what about the intruders?” she asked.
“We’ll hand them to the sheriff. No fuss. If someone comes looking, we’ll play innocent.”
“And if no one comes?” she asked.
“What are you suggesting?”
“I want them,” she whispered. “I want to taste their flesh.”
The boys stared at each other, horrified.
“Oh man,” Andrew whispered. “Did you hear that?”
“We need to stop them,” Michael said, voice trembling.
“Why?” Nathan whispered back. “Let’s just get out of here.”
“We can’t,” Fox said. “If they take over now, there won’t be a home to go back to.”
Andrew nodded. “He’s right. If we don’t stop them, we might not even exist.”
Nathan clenched his jaw. “Okay. But we need help. We can’t do this alone.”
“Who?” Fox asked. “The sheriff won’t believe us.”
Michael hesitated. “I have an idea. But you’re not gonna like it.”
Nathan narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“We get help from those three guys chasing us.”
Fox nearly choked. “Are you nuts?”
“Quiet!” Andrew hissed. “They’ll hear us.”
Michael leaned closer. “Think about it. We kill two birds with one stone.”
“How?” Nathan asked.
“We convince them to help us stop the aliens. Then we leave.”
“And?” Nathan pressed.
“They don’t have bracelets,” Michael said, grinning. “When they enter the time room, they’ll be trapped in the past.”
Fox blinked. “Not a bad plan.”
Nathan nodded slowly. “Alright. Let’s find a way out and track them down.”
Andrew frowned. “Who are that man and woman anyway?”
“Not from this world,” Michael said.
Fox raised a finger. “I wonder what Doctor Who would do in a situation like this.”
The other three groaned and collapsed face‑first onto the ground.
“Oh Jesus, not that,” Michael said.
“Fox, we told you — no Doctor Who,” Nathan said.
“Hey, it’s a great show,” Fox replied defensively.
Michael brushed dirt off his shirt. “Anyway — we need to get back to that room with the closet. And find those guys.”
The boys pressed deeper into the catacombs beneath the farmhouse, careful not to make a sound.
“Hey, I just thought of something,” Fox whispered.
Andrew groaned. “What now, Fox?”
“What’s stopping them from checking the room to see if we’re still there?”
Andrew’s eyes widened. “Then we better hurry our butts up and get out of here.”
They picked up the pace, crawling faster through the narrow tunnels.
They picked up the pace, crawling faster through the narrow tunnels. Dirt crumbled beneath their palms, and the wooden beams overhead creaked softly with every movement. The air grew colder the deeper they went, carrying the faint smell of roots and old soil.
After several twists and turns, the tunnel widened slightly. A faint glow seeped through a small opening in the wall ahead.
“I wonder what’s in there?” Andrew whispered, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“Go find out,” Michael said, nudging him forward.
Andrew rolled his eyes but crawled through the opening. The others followed, squeezing into a dimly lit room.
Fox looked around. “A root cellar. People used to store vegetables down here. See that door? It leads outside.”
The room was lined with wooden crates filled with shriveled potatoes and dusty jars. A set of narrow wooden stairs led up to a small door with a sliver of daylight shining through the crack.
“Andrew, check it,” Nathan said.
Andrew climbed the stairs and pressed his eye to the gap. “We’re outside — side of the house. Looks clear.”
“So how do we get back in?” Michael asked.
Nathan frowned, thinking. “That’s going to be tough.”
“We could use Fox as bait,” Andrew joked.
“WHAT?!” Fox yelped, nearly tripping over a crate.
Andrew smirked. “Just kidding.”
“Wait,” Fox said, raising a finger. “When I climbed out onto the roof earlier, I saw a trellis leading down. We could climb up.”
“And the window should still be open,” Nathan added. “I never closed it.”
Michael nodded. “Then that’s our way back.”
They opened the cellar door slowly, wincing at the soft creak. Sunlight spilled in, warm and blinding after the darkness below. They crept toward the front of the house, staying low behind bushes and barrels.
At the trellis, each boy climbed silently up to the window. The wood creaked under their weight, but they moved quickly, hearts pounding.
But they were too late.
The owners had discovered the empty room. With their hired hands, they were already searching the property — shouting orders, checking windows, scanning the yard.
As Fox climbed, one of the farmhands spotted him — mistaking his ascent for a descent.
“He’s climbing down!” the man shouted.
Fox scrambled faster, pulling himself through the window with a desperate grunt.
“They saw me!” he gasped.
“Quick — to the closet!” Michael shouted.
The boys dashed inside. Fox slammed the closet door just as the owners burst into the room.
“NOW WE GOT YOU!” the man roared, flinging the closet door open.
Inside: only coats and boxes.
No boys.
The woman’s face twisted in confusion. “Where did they go?”
“They were right here!” a farmhand insisted.
“Search the house!” the man barked.
But the boys were already gone.
Back in the white hallways of the inter‑dimensional hub, the boys wandered for what felt like an hour, searching for the three men who had once chased them. The corridors seemed to shift around them — doors rearranging, hallways stretching, the whole place alive and watching.
Andrew kicked a wall lightly. “This place is a maze.”
“Just keep looking,” Nathan said. “They’ve gotta be here somewhere.”
Finally, they found them — Frank, Winston, and Bob — slumped against a wall, panting and drenched in sweat. Their clothes were torn, their faces smudged with dirt, and they looked like they’d been running for days.
“Hey, bank robbers!” Nathan called.
The men looked up, exhausted and annoyed.
“Look, kid,” Frank said, rubbing his temples. “We’re done chasing you. Just tell us how to get out of here.”
“We’ll help,” Nathan said. “But we need your help first.”
“With what?” Winston asked, wiping his brow.
“There are aliens in the past,” Andrew said bluntly. “They’re planning to take over the planet.”
Bob threw up his hands. “So what? Just show us the way out!”
Fox stepped forward, voice steady. “If you don’t help us, there won’t be a world to go back to. These aliens plan to turn everyone into food. By the time we leave, Earth as you know it will be gone.”
Frank blinked. “Food?”
“Yeah,” Michael said. “Human food.”
Winston paled. “Crikey…”
Nathan stepped forward. “Help us stop them, and we’ll show you how to get out. Plus — we won’t say a word about the bank job.”
Frank, Winston, and Bob huddled together, whispering urgently. Their voices were low, but the boys could hear bits:
“…don’t like this…”
“…what choice do we have…”
“…better than dying…”
After a tense minute, they turned back.
“Alright,” Frank said. “We’re in.”
Nathan nodded. “Good. Follow us.”
The boys led them back to the 1868 room. Moonlight spilled through the closed window, casting pale shadows across the red walls. A young boy lay asleep in the brass bed, his brownish‑blond hair tousled, his nightgown wrinkled.
Nathan raised a finger to his lips. Silence.
“You sure this is the place?” Bob whispered.
“Yeah,” Michael began, but Fox poked him sharply.
“Where are these aliens, mate?” Winston asked.
“Downstairs,” Nathan said.
The group crept into the hallway. The wooden floor creaked softly beneath their feet. The house felt colder now — like it knew they were coming.
Then — screams echoed from the kitchen.
High‑pitched. Terrified.
The boys and the men rushed in — and froze.
A hired hand lay convulsing on the table, his limbs twitching violently. Two massive brown slugs loomed over him, their slimy bodies glistening in the lantern light. Their eyestalks twitched, turning toward the newcomers.
Bob swallowed hard. “Hey, Slug!”
The creatures turned slowly.
“I think we’ve got something you’re looking for,” Bob said, as the men grabbed the boys and dragged them forward. Frank seized Fox, who snatched a container off the counter.
“You scum,” Michael spat.
“Well done, humans,” one slug slurred. “What do you want in return?”
“To serve you,” Winston said quickly.
“Yeah, and not end up like that guy,” Bob added, pointing to the corpse.
“He failed us,” the slug hissed. “Don’t make the same mistake.”
Then — Frank let go of Fox.
Fox hurled the container’s contents at the slugs.
A burst of white smoke erupted.
“What have you done, you pesky child?” one slug shrieked.
Fox stood firm. “Used your greatest weakness. Common household salt.”
The slugs screamed, their bodies bubbling and melting into puddles of foul‑smelling goop.
The slugs screamed as the salt hit them, their slimy bodies bubbling and collapsing into steaming puddles of brownish goop. The smell was awful — like rotten fish mixed with burning rubber. The boys gagged, covering their noses.
Fox stepped back, coughing. “Ugh… that’s disgusting.”
Michael wiped his eyes. “Dude… you melted them.”
Andrew stared at the puddles. “I’m never eating escargot again.”
Just then, the back door burst open.
The sheriff stormed in, boots thudding against the wooden floor. His uniform was dusty, his hat crooked, and his eyes wide with confusion.
“What in blazes is going on?” he demanded. “What’s that mess? And where are Mr. and Mrs. Peterson?”
Nathan exchanged a quick look with the others. This is bad.
He turned to the three men. “You better explain. He won’t believe us.”
Frank, Winston, and Bob froze — then realized what the boys were doing.
They were being handed the perfect cover story.
Frank cleared his throat. “Sheriff… uh… we can explain.”
Winston nodded vigorously. “Yeah, mate, it’s a long story.”
Bob pointed at the puddles. “Those… uh… varmints attacked us.”
The sheriff blinked. “Varmints?”
“Big ones,” Frank said. “Real big.”
The sheriff stared at the melted remains, scratching his head. “Never seen varmints like that.”
“Rare species,” Winston said confidently.
“Very rare,” Bob added.
The sheriff frowned, confused but not suspicious enough to push further. “Well… I’ll need statements. And I need to find the Petersons.”
Andrew whispered to Nathan, “He’s not gonna find much.”
Nathan whispered back, “Exactly why we need to leave.”
While the sheriff questioned the men, the boys slipped quietly out of the kitchen and hurried upstairs. The house felt eerily silent now — no voices, no footsteps, just the creak of old wood beneath their shoes.
They reached the bedroom.
The child still slept peacefully in the brass bed, his brownish‑blond hair tousled across the pillow. His small chest rose and fell softly, completely unaware of the nightmare that had unfolded downstairs.
Nathan whispered, “Is he dead?”
Michael shook his head. “Don’t know. Looks alive.”
Andrew checked the other room. The boy’s parents were gone — reduced to nothing but the slug slime they’d left behind.
Andrew swallowed hard. “They’re dead.”
Nathan exhaled. “Never mind. Into the closet. Now.”
Footsteps approached — heavy, hurried.
The boys slipped into the closet, pulling the door shut behind them. The familiar white glow washed over them as the inter‑dimensional hallway materialized.
A second later, the bedroom door opened.
Frank, Bob, and Winston entered the room, looking around.
Empty.
They checked behind the bed.
Nothing.
Then they opened the closet.
Inside: coats. Boxes. Dust.
No hallway.
No boys.
The young boy stirred, blinking sleepily. “What’s going on?”
Frank, Winston, and Bob stood frozen — stunned, confused, and very much trapped.
The boys’ plan had worked.
The three criminals were stuck in 1868.
Back in the inter‑dimensional hub, Nathan, Andrew, Michael, and Fox walked the long white hallway, their footsteps echoing softly. The air felt cooler here, calmer — like the house itself was letting them breathe again.
Andrew rubbed his arms. “What if they get out?”
“They can’t,” Fox said. “Not without a bracelet.”
Michael nodded. “And we didn’t give them one.”
“Don’t worry,” Nathan said. “I think we’ve seen the last of them.”
The boys walked on, deeper into the maze, deeper into the unknown — the glowing walls stretching endlessly ahead, doors waiting on either side like unopened chapters.
Whatever came next, they would face it together.