The Post Sunday Experiment | COMPLETED 2020

Chapter 9

The blackness swallowed both Winters when that flashlight went out. Penny held her distance and bit her lip in hopes that Ody had turned the light off rather than it going out on its own.

She climbed off her bicycle and stood there in the dark, squinting at the figure of her brother. Unwilling to give her position away just yet, she stood there and watched.

As her vision adjusted to the black, she could see Ody on his hands and knees as he messed with something she couldn't quite make out.

A few moments later, he stood up once more, hopped back on his bike, and continued in the dark.

Still unsure of what happened to the light, Penny did her best to stealthily follow him. As she neared where he had stopped, she paused for a moment, examining the spot with a critical eye.

Peering up at the tall barb-wire fence that had been cut open with pliers Ody must've snatched from the shed, she took in a deep breath. She could tell by the fence this was military property. Trespassing here would be a much bigger offense than she'd originally thought.

Penny stood up a little taller and took in a deep breath as she hopped back on her bike to continue following Ody.

Their bike tires hit a mulch path just large enough for a single car to drive on. There were no lights on the path so it was difficult to make out the silhouettes of the two children.

In the twelve years Penny had lived in Cazenovia, she'd never seen that fence or this path. How could there be this foreign place in a city that felt so familiar to her?

Knowing what she was doing, she couldn't help but feel like a rebel on that Saturday evening as she trespassed on the military property of 73324.

Penny had always been a sweet, obedient rule-follower and Ody had been the stuck-up rebel of the family. As she biked down the path in the dark, she couldn't help but relish every second that reckless dopamine hit rushed through her blood.

Careful to watch Ody's every move in the nearly pitch black, Penny halted as she noticed Ody dropping his bike at the end of the path. It was strange. At the end of the path there was... nothing.

Penny watched Ody survey the area around him. He looked like he had become paranoid, but then again, who was she to judge him? He must understand that they weren't supposed to be there. Ody pulled something long and cylinder-shaped out of his bike basket, and then headed into the woods. Dropping her bike as well, she jogged to catch up.

As she squinted in the dark to see her brother, that's when she started to notice them. Disguised as regular trees and rocks, sat cables and electricity boxes.

The forest slowly morphed into something man-made that looked to have the technology of the future yet the architecture of the past as she followed Ody deeper into the woods.

A strange building somewhere between a barn and garage in style stood a few feet in front of Ody. It looked as if the very vines that tore it down somehow kept it standing as well.

Still cloaked by the dense forest, Penny observed Ody making his way up to the barn. He didn't hesitate for a moment. Penny marveled at his casual and self-assured stride. He circled the structure a few times before daring to pull the vines away in search of a window.

Locating and looking in a cloudy window, Ody found a door. He made his way to the door that seemed to be void of vines. It must've been opened recently. Furrowing her brow, Ody opened the door, glanced left and right, then entered.

Unable to restrain her curiosity anymore, Penny ran over to the open door and slipped inside.

The barn-like shelter was full of cardboard boxes with numbers and letters labeling them. Pipes and wires hung everywhere making the place look like a hand-wired bomb

Hiding behind a stack of boxes, Penny watched Ody turn the flashlight on. As he shone it around the room, Penny had to withhold the gasp and smile that pulled at her lips.

Written on one of the walls in black paint were the words, "The Post Sunday Experiment." It was more than they were looking for.