They crossed the street together, the dog staying close, checking back every few steps. The community park came into view, empty and gray. Maya didn’t see anything at first—just dripping benches, empty swings creaking in the wind. But then she stopped short, breath catching.
She turned slowly, scanning every corner—the sandbox, the seesaws, behind the restroom shed. Nothing. Her eyes stung from the rain. Was this a mistake? Had the dog misunderstood something? She thought of turning back and going home, but the dog was already padding ahead, nose low, tail low, ears alert.
Maya followed hesitantly, boots slipping in the mud. Then—barely visible past the jungle gym—she saw it. A splash of blue against the soaked mulch. A shape, not moving. Her pulse surged. She picked up her pace, the wind pulling at her coat.
A woman lay sprawled near the swing set, her one arm twisted unnaturally, motionless but breathing. Maya rushed forward, heart pounding, and knelt beside him. “Hey!” she said, her voice tight. “Are you alright?” She touched her arm gently. The woman stirred, groaning faintly as she tried to sit up.