As they rushed back toward the clearing, Dean couldn't shake the pressure building in his chest. Every second felt heavier than the last.
If Sara was right, time was already running out. It had been almost twenty minutes since they started searching for Jim—forty more, and he'd be gone.
They cut through the last line of trees and stepped into the open path behind Mark's house. Ahead, Kenny stood with a water bottle in hand. Boyd was there too, talking quietly with Father Khatri. The tension in their postures told Dean everything—they hadn't found anything yet.
"Boyd! Kenny!" Dean shouted, his voice cutting through the quiet.
All three men turned immediately.
"Sara?" Boyd said, his voice low and edged. "What are you doing here? You were supposed to be resting."
Sara stopped a few steps away, breathing hard. "I know," she said quickly. "But I need to talk to you—it's about Jim."
She steadied herself and continued to speak. "He's not in the forest," she said, her tone urgent but clear. "He's underground. Buried. In a grave box—inside the Colony House cemetery."
Boyd frowned. "What? How do you know? Did someone tell you that?"
She shook her head. "No. No one told me anything. It's—it's something I felt."
"Felt?" Boyd repeated doubt clear in his voice and on his face.
Sara nodded, her voice firm. "It hit me all at once, like the air around me changed. My chest got tight, like I couldn't breathe. And then I just knew—he was trapped down there, trying to get out. I could feel his panic, the way he's running out of air."
The silence that followed was heavy and still.
Father Khatri stepped closer. "Sara, are you saying you can feel where he is?"
"I don't know what to call it," she said, voice raw but steady. "It's like something pulling at me—won't let me stop thinking about that place. The more I try to ignore it, the worse it gets. The moment I thought of the cemetery of the Colony House, the pressure eased, just a little. Like I was getting closer."
Boyd's eyes narrowed slightly. "Wait—where exactly? There are two cemeteries near the colony house."
Sara blinked, thinking hard about the exact place from the vision and then spoke,"The cemetery… at the back of the Colony House. The far end," she said finally, her voice firm despite the tremor. "That's where the feeling is strongest. That's where he is."
Kenny shifted uneasily. "With how weird this place is...maybe she's right. Maybe we should check."
Boyd looked between them, torn. "You're asking me to dig up the Colony House cemetery based on a feeling. Do you think Donna's people would beleive us."
Sara met his eyes. "I know how it sounds. But every part of me is screaming he's there. If I'm wrong, fine. I'll take it. But if I'm right and we wait—he dies under our feet while we argue about what makes sense."
Her words hung in the cold air.
For a long moment, Boyd said nothing. Then he rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. Finally, he turned to Kenny. "Get the shovels."
Kenny blinked. "Okay. And what about the Colony House people?"
"I will talk to Donna," Boyd said and after a second or so and once again barked orders at everyone.
Everyone hurried back to the town except for Father Khatri who went to call back all other people who were still searching.
Sara let out a relieved breath, her shoulders easing as the tension broke. Dean glanced at her, his voice softer now. "You did good."
Sara just nodded but didn't reply. Her eyes stayed on the treeline, where the colony house waited.
With the quickened pace, they reached the destination in no time. The place felt unusually quiet—most of the residents were still out searching for Jim, leaving the house nearly empty.
After asking one of the remaining residents inside the Colony House, they hurried toward the back cemetery. From what they'd been told, Donna was there, visiting her sister's grave as part of her usual routine.
Sara walked faster beside him. Her eyes moved to the right, where the front cemetery stood. It was neatly fenced, with simple wooden crosses marking each grave. Dry, colorless flowers were scattered across the ground. Boyd didn't stop there. He kept walking toward the back, where the old cemetery was hidden among thick bushes and crooked trees.
That part of the land felt different, heavier somehow. The air was colder and completely still. Wild grass had grown everywhere, covering old, broken fences and leaning gravestones. Some of the grave markers had fallen over, and their names were too faded to read. Most people didn't come to this side of the Colony House anymore. It was where people who had died long ago were buried. Even Donna only came here to visit her sister's grave.
They found her standing alone. Donna's back was to them. Her posture was tense but still. Her hands were folded in front of her, and her eyes were fixed on the weathered stone. For once, there was no defiance in her expression. Only a quiet grief was carved deep into her face.
"Donna," Boyd called softly as he approached.
She turned, surprised, wiping at her eyes quickly before her usual guarded look returned. "Boyd? What's going on? You look like hell." Her eyes moved past him, landing on Sara. "And why is she here? I thought she was still recovering."
Sara opened her mouth to speak, but Boyd raised a hand. "We don't have time for explanations," he said firmly. "I need to dig in this cemetery. Near the back fence."
Donna's eyes narrowed instantly. "What?" She took a step closer, her tone sharp. "You're not digging up graves here without a damn good reason."
"I have a reason," Boyd said, meeting her glare evenly. "As you know Jim's missing....and Sara thinks—"
"I know where he is," Sara cut in, her voice filled with urgency. "He's underground. In a box. Here." She pointed toward the far end of the cemetery, where the ground dipped slightly beneath a patch of ivy-covered earth. "I can feel it. Please, we don't have much time."
Donna looked from Sara to Boyd, disbelief flickering across her face. "You're telling me you came all the way here because she felt something?"
"Donna," Boyd said, his voice low but warning. "You know this place. Weird things happen. I'm not ignoring a chance to save him."
Donna thought for a few seconds before answering. "And what if you're wrong? You'll tear up someone's grave for nothing?"
Sara's voice cracked, raw emotion breaking through. "Then blame me! But if we don't dig—he's going to die down there!"
The sheer conviction in her tone made even Donna pause. The argument drained from her face as she looked at Sara—really looked at her. The girl's hands were shaking, her breathing uneven, her eyes wide with the kind of certainty that couldn't be faked.
Boyd stepped closer, his tone softer now. "Please, Donna. Just give us a chance."
For a long moment, Donna said nothing. Then, with a reluctant sigh, she nodded toward the toolshed near the fence. "You better be sure about this, Boyd."
"We'll take responsibility," Boyd said quickly. "Just help us keep the others calm."
Donna nodded stiffly, crossing her arms as she stepped aside.
Father Khatri and Kenny arrived a few seconds later, followed by several people carrying shovels. Donna quickly explained the situation to everyone. Most of the Colony House people didn't mind much—none of their friends or family were buried in the old graves at the back, except for Donna's sister. And even her grave was farther away from the spot they planned to dig.
Meanwhile, Boyd took a shovel from one of the townsfolk and walked to the far corner of the cemetery where Sara had pointed earlier. The ground there was uneven, covered in dry leaves and tangled roots.
"Here," Sara said quietly, her hand pressed to her chest. "It's stronger here."
Boyd didn't hesitate. He drove the shovel into the dirt, the sound cutting through the silence. Dean and the rest too joined him, their movements quick. Each strike of the shovel made the tension grow thicker, every second dragging out like an eternity.
After a few minutes, the shovels hit something solid. A hollow thunk echoed beneath the ground.
Boyd knelt instantly, brushing away the loose soil with his hands until the rough edge of wood appeared. "We've got something!" he called out, his voice tight with urgency.
Kenny dropped beside him without hesitation, helping clear the remaining dirt. The shape became clearer—a crude wooden box, large enough to hold a man.
Sara stepped forward slowly, her hand gripping Dean's arm for balance. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the half-buried box. "That's it," she whispered, her voice trembling. "That's where he is."
Boyd looked quickly at Kenny. Then he pressed his ear against the wood. For a long moment, there was nothing. He only heard his own pulse pounding in his ears. Then he heard a faint, hollow thump from inside. Almost immediately, a louder, stronger thump followed. It made him startle.
Sara gasped. "He's alive!"
"Move!" Boyd barked. "Kenny, Dean—help me open it!"
They worked quickly, using shovels to dig through the packed dirt. Kenny grunted as he moved chunks of soil aside. Boyd used a crowbar to pry at the splintered boards covering the coffin. The others stood back, their faces pale and tense. Donna watched nearby with her arms crossed, looking uneasy.
Slowly, the coffin came out of the shallow grave. It was covered in damp earth and grime. Boyd wiped his hands on his jeans. He wedged the crowbar under the lid and pried it open with a creak. A rush of stale, heavy air came out, smelling of dust and decay. Boyd leaned closer, wiping the sweat on his forehead.
The coffin was empty.