There are nine of them, total.

Nine massive concrete chimneys sticking out of the landscape like candles on a birthday cake.

Up until my last week, the scariest thing about them was the deep booming noise they sometimes produced, which shook the ground.

The ferocity of a subwifor cranked up all the way.

They'd spout out one at a time, like geysers releasing pressure.

I'd walk the perimeter and there went Chimney 3, followed by Chimney 5, and then suddenly

Chimney 8 and 9 would go together.

That's as weird as it got.

Before I noticed the thing in chimney seven.

I want to make it clear from the get-go. I have no idea what the chimneys do or why they're here.

They're alone and a fenced off field with no buildings in sight.

There are three padlocked doors on opposite ends of the property, and roads made only

from the flattening effect of tires on grass, the one nearest to Chimney Seven being overgrown.

I think there must be bunkers beneath my feet, although I suppose the doors could also lead

to storage sheds.

It's hard to tell, and I've been told not to ask.

Why are the chimneys there?

Is this some sort of nuclear power plant?

Are they testing sound cannons?

Are they part of an experiment?

Pressure valves from a dormant supervolcano.

I don't have answers to those questions. I wish I did, but I'm just a temp.

...