When the officers arrived, Rose led them directly to the backyard. She answered their questions briefly, efficiently. The hatch was still open. They inspected the entrance, exchanged quiet words, then descended with their flashlights drawn. Rose stood back with the couple, watching the process with a firm jaw.
She had expected them to return with confirmation of what she suspected—someone squatting, maybe a drifter. But when the officers emerged, they looked visibly shaken. Moments later, a man followed behind them. Disheveled. Thin. In his thirties. Rose didn’t recognize him, but the young couple next to her did.
“That’s him,” the woman said, her voice low with disbelief. “That’s the guy who used to live here.” Her husband nodded, eyes wide. Rose’s head reeled—not with panic, but the sudden weight of understanding. This man hadn’t disappeared. He had never left. He’d been under her house all along.
The man looked around with frantic eyes, then began shouting at the officers. “You don’t understand! I need to stay inside! It’s not safe out here! The collapse is coming!” His voice rose, desperate, but Rose didn’t move. She simply stepped back, watching it unfold with quiet disbelief.