I called in some local metal detector hobbyists — the kind of people who get excited about old soda cans, so you can imagine their reaction when I told them what I was hoping to find.
We spent hours scanning the yard, gridding it out carefully. At first: nothing but the usual small junk. Then, in one particular spot, every detector started chirping like crazy.
We marked it, took a breath, and started digging.
A few feet down, our shovels hit something hard. Not rock. Not old concrete. Metal.
We cleared more dirt, hands shaking a bit, until it became clear what we were looking at: a large, weathered metal hatch, completely buried under decades of soil.
It looked like something straight out of a movie — the kind of thing where a character opens it and either finds treasure… or unleashes something they definitely shouldn’t.
It took a ton of effort to free it. The hinges were rusted, the frame had shifted over time, and we had to be careful not to damage anything or get anyone hurt. Eventually, with some reinforcement and tools, we managed to crack it open.
A dark, narrow passageway stretched below.
I rigged up some temporary lighting, took a deep breath, and climbed down into the unknown.
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