Boots on the Ground

Tension released in my joints. My boots responded first, heels pivoting against the rough carpet fibers. I was lying flat under the dark ledge of heavy timber. Clear perimeter before movement. I planted a palm, braced against the floor, and pushed my torso up into an upright crouch. Ahead lay an open expanse crowded with silent vehicles—a towering locomotive, boxed transports frozen mid-turn. To my flank sat a small yellow car. I reached out and tapped its rigid chassis with two fingers. Stationary. Unresponsive. The surroundings are dormant, but mobility is fully restored. Holding position to survey.