Summer had been gone for approximately one week before she really started regretting leaving C-137. Summer had smashed her phone to remove the temptation of calling for help, but there was something about her that missed the Smith house... its bricks and wood and carpet and couches.Â
She typed random numbers into the portal gunâshe still wasnât very good at navigating with it, but she was learning quicklyâand, after nearly fifty tries, eventually landed on her old street, a few blocks down from her home, in another dimension. The 18-year-old girl shrugged the loose black coat sheâd stolen higher on her shoulders, putting up her hood securely to hide her face.Â
The neighborhood was eerily quiet, and once she reached the house, limping a little from muscle soreness, it looked empty as well.Â
Summer sighed with happiness... finally, she could rest and relax in âher own homeâ without having to give up any of the freedom sheâd fought so hard for. However, when she took a step towards the driveway, the silence of the neighborhood allowed her ear to pick up a soft, electrical hum nearby. She narrowed her eyes. Sheâd spent the last seven days falling into traps and getting busted up, all from not paying attention. So rather than investigate with her hands, Summer reached down, picked up a rock, and tossed it towards the front yard. It zapped against something and shot back towards her, knocking her between the eyes.Â
âGod fucking damn it!â she yelled, hands over her face beneath the hood, stumbling backwards.
