Iron in the Grass

The house was quiet. I pushed through the cracked patio door into the cool morning air. Across the lawn, an iron disc lay sunk in the turf directly along my line of advance. I did not turn into the open grass. I stepped onto the cold metal plate. Clang. The heavy hatch groaned under my foot, sending a dull, hollow ring through the damp earth. Beneath the cast iron, a deep tremor rushed through hidden pipes. I locked my stance. Heavy. Unmoving. The underground pulse vibrated through my soles.