When Mark walked over later that evening, Darren’s side gate was already slightly open. That alone felt unusual. Mark called out once, then again, but there was no answer. So he stepped inside. From the outside, Darren’s backyard had always looked chaotic. From the inside, it looked… organized.
That was the first thing that threw Mark off. The tires weren’t just piled up randomly. Some had been grouped by size. Others were stacked more carefully than he’d expected. A few had clearly been cut apart. There were thick curved pieces of rubber laid out beside the shed and neatly trimmed sections stacked in small piles that clearly hadn’t been made by accident. This wasn’t hoarding. It wasn’t junk. And it definitely wasn’t random.
Whatever Darren was doing, he was doing it on purpose. Mark moved deeper into the yard, weaving between the narrow paths that had formed between the stacks. At the very back sat Darren’s old shed — the same one he usually kept shut. This time, the door was cracked open. If there were answers anywhere, Mark figured, they’d be in there.
But when he finally pushed the door open and stepped inside… what he found only made things stranger.
