The boy vanished from the yard, and eight years later, his father looked under the neighbor’s doghouse and went pale…

Thomas spotted the German Shepherd, not inside as Michael claimed, but still outside. The dog paced restlessly in its small crate, a chain attached to its collar limiting its movement. Thomas scanned for Michael but saw no sign of him.

The situation made no sense. Michael had left dinner specifically to bring the dog inside. Yet here it was, still chained outside in worsening weather.

Approaching cautiously, Thomas noticed the larger dog kennel Michael was building was still unfinished, despite his morning claim that he’d complete it. Another inconsistency in this increasingly strange day. Thomas called for Michael again, louder.

No response. He peered into the kitchen window but saw no movement inside. Michael’s car was still in the driveway, and in this weather, at this hour, it was unlikely he’d gone anywhere on foot, especially without a coat.

Thomas pulled out his phone and dialed Michael’s number. The call went to voicemail after a few rings. The unease in his gut grew stronger.

As he pocketed the phone, the German Shepherd suddenly began barking more fiercely. At first, Thomas thought the dog was reacting to him, but looking closer, he realized the animal was focused on the small dog kennel, alternating barks with whines. Keeping a safe distance, Thomas moved to get a better view of the kennel.

From the new angle, he saw something he hadn’t noticed before—a wooden panel in the kennel’s floor, seemingly slidable, with an unlocked padlock lying atop it. There was also a metallic glint, possibly a handle, embedded in the panel. Drawing on his experience with animals from his dog-breeding days, Thomas cautiously approached the German Shepherd, speaking in a low, soothing tone.

The dog, seeming more anxious than aggressive, allowed Thomas to get close enough to unclip the chain from its collar and secure it to a post several feet from the kennel. With the dog safely distanced, Thomas knelt and peered inside the small structure. What he’d initially taken for a simple kennel floor was an intricate trapdoor.

The metal handle and latch resembled old military bunkers he’d seen in historical documentaries. A chill, unrelated to the winter air, gripped him. Why did Michael have a bunker hidden under a dog kennel? And why had he been so secretive and evasive all day? Thomas stood and stepped back, his thoughts racing.

He needed to talk to Emily. With trembling hands, he dialed their home number. “Emily,” he said when she answered, his voice tight with urgency.

“I found something weird in Michael’s yard. There’s a bunker or cellar under the dog kennel.” “A bunker?” Emily’s surprise was palpable.

“What do you mean?” “There’s a trapdoor in the kennel floor with a handle and latch, like in old military bunkers. The dog’s still outside, chained up, and I can’t find Michael anywhere. He’s not answering calls, and his car’s here.”

There was a pause before Emily responded. “That sounds alarming. Do you think—do you think he might be down there? Maybe he fell or got stuck somehow?” “I don’t know,” Thomas admitted.

“The lock on the door’s open, so someone could be down there. But why build a dog kennel over a bunker entrance? It doesn’t add up.” “This could be dangerous,” Emily cautioned.

“Maybe we should call the police to be safe. Your phone’s almost dead. I’ll make the call.”

Thomas nodded, though she couldn’t see him. “Okay, but tell them it’s just a welfare check. I’m worried something’s happened to Michael.

I can’t reach him, the house is locked, but his car’s here.” “Promise you won’t go down there,” Emily insisted. “Come back home, and we’ll wait for the police together.”

“I promise,” Thomas agreed. “I’ll be back soon.” He ended the call and took one last look at the trapdoor.

The rational part of his mind knew he should follow Emily’s advice and wait for the authorities. But another part, the one that had searched for answers for eight long years, was drawn to the mystery beneath the kennel. Before he could decide, a noise came from the bunker.

A metallic sound, like someone climbing a ladder or steps. Thomas froze, his eyes locked on the trapdoor, which remained closed. The sounds grew louder, clearer—definitely footsteps on metal rungs.

Then, with a scraping sound, the wooden panel shifted, and the padlock fell aside as the hatch opened. Michael emerged from the opening, awkwardly climbing out of the tight space. When he straightened and saw Thomas standing there, his face registered pure shock, quickly followed by something darker.

Fear? Anger? In the dim light, it was hard to tell. “Thomas,” Michael said, his voice carefully controlled but laced with tension. “What are you doing here?” Thomas held up the coat.

“You left this at our house. When you didn’t come back, I thought I’d bring it over.” He hesitated, then added, “I got worried when you didn’t answer the door, and then I heard the dog barking.

She’s still outside in the cold.” Michael took the coat from Thomas’s outstretched hand, moving slowly. “Thanks.

Yeah, about the dog. She’s still not warmed up to me. I’m not sure about bringing her inside yet…