The first death happened a few months ago. I heard a noise behind my house, and when I looked out the back window, I was surprised to see a disheveled man walking around one of the big oak trees in the middle of my yard. He looked rather dazed and was half shouting something to himself. Foolishly, I rushed outside to see if he was okay.

“I’ll find it. I’ll find it. I’ll find it,” he kept rambling over and over, and he glanced at me with eyes that didn’t seem to see me, before turning back to the tree. “Have you found it?”

I held up my hands, wishing I’d thought ahead before rushing outside. This guy was clearly unhinged. “Easy, buddy. There’s nothing here for you. What are you looking for?”

His head snapped around, and he locked eyes with me. “But…it has to be here…” I was startled to see blood suddenly spurt from his nose. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed.

I cursed and dove to catch him before he hit the ground, and we both tumbled in a heap on the grass. I pulled out my cell phone, then growled in frustration as I tried to dial 911. For some reason, I had no signal, and my call immediately dropped. I tried again, and when the call hung up without even ringing, I put my phone back in my pocket and checked the man’s pulse. There was nothing.

I hesitated for a moment, then decided to try to drag him to my front lawn. Maybe I could catch someone’s attention and get help. He was fairly light, but it still took several frantic moments of half carrying, half dragging him to get there. As soon as I plopped him down on the lawn, I checked his pulse again, then started CPR.

A car soon drove by, and the driver saw my frantic struggles and jumped out to help. His phone didn’t work either, so he drove up the road until he got enough service to call 911, then raced back to join me and try to help the man. Soon, an ambulance was peeling into my driveway, lights and sirens wailing. But they were far too late. I think the man had been dead the moment he collapsed.

I told my story to the police when they arrived, and I eventually heard from the coroner that they thought the cause of death was some sort of brain aneurism, possibly drug-induced. I decided to visit the man’s funeral, and was sad to see few family members and even fewer friends there. I wondered what had put him on the path that eventually led to him dying on my lawn.

The next several months were quiet, and I was actually out of town when the second person died. I returned from my trip to find police tape outside my home and a full team of detectives investigating my house. They peppered me with a barrage of questions, but I was just as confused as they were. I never did learn the identity of that victim, but they had apparently also died in my backyard. The police were convinced I was dealing drugs or something that was killing folks. But they didn’t find anything, and after days of searching and investigating, they finally decided to leave me be.

After that, I decided to put a lock on my gate to prevent anyone else from getting into my yard. I hoped that would be the end of…whatever this was. I also changed my cell phone provider, as I really didn’t want to be in another situation where I couldn’t make a call.

The next person died two weeks later. I was actually out back when it happened, and the first indication that something was wrong was the squealing of car tires from out on the street. A moment later, I heard someone frantically yanking and pounding on the gate to my backyard, followed by a high-pitched scream of rage. A moment later, a middle-aged woman leaped up and grabbed the top of my fence, scrabbling over it frantically. She rolled over the top and fell with a thump to the grass below, but quickly sprang up and started scanning my yard. She eyed me briefly.

“Do you know where it is? Never mind, don’t worry. I’ll find it myself. I have to find it!”

I shook my head, wondering if I could get past her to the house. I didn’t have my phone with me, of course.

Suddenly, the woman dove forward and started tearing at the sod. “It’s here! I know it, it has to be!” She ripped up big clumps of grass, and her shrieks grew louder and louder. I made a break for it and dashed inside to grab my phone. Strangely enough, I had no service once again, even though I’d just called my brother not two hours prior. Yelling in frustration and panic, I ran back out to her and pulled her away from the grass, hoping I could calm her down. She struggled frantically for a moment, then went limp and started sobbing.

When I laid her down on her back, she looked up at me with teary eyes. “Please. I need to find it. Help me find it, I must – ” and she suddenly collapsed backwards, her head lolling crazily to the side.

Old Mrs. Jones, my next-door neighbor, must’ve heard the commotion, because a moment later, she poked her head over the fence and motioned to me that she was on the phone. At least she had a working phone. The police and EMTs arrived a few minutes later.

This time, I was taken to the station for questioning. Angry officers grilled me with questions and accusations for hours, and they even held me overnight on suspicion of murder. However, they eventually had to let me go, even though I was as confused as they were. I told them that my theory was either that there was a cult in town that had become obsessed with my yard, or people were on some drug that drew them to it. I had no other explanations.

The nightmare didn’t end though. In fact, it got worse. I bought cameras, floodlights, a landline phone, and an extra cell phone. It didn’t matter. They would all work fine until someone crazy ended up in my yard, and then it was like I was cut off from the rest of the world. The camera footage would short out, my landline would go dead, and if someone showed up at night, even the outdoor lights wouldn’t work.

The people started showing up every week, and then every few days. I put razor wire across the top of my fence, and one poor fellow sliced himself up terribly just trying to get in. One old cowboy rammed his pickup straight through my fence, then hopped out and began digging up my flowerbed frantically. He actually talked with me for a moment or two before suddenly collapsing, but I didn’t get much more than that he was looking for something, and he thought he knew where it was.

I spent all my savings and rebuilt the fence with a reinforced concrete wall, with double strands of razor wire on top. The city started sending me zoning violations and letters, but I didn’t care. Whatever it took to keep people out of my yard, I’d do it. I was constantly on the edge of a panic attack, wondering when the next body would show up, and knowing there was little I could do to stop it. And people kept coming through and dying, day and night.

When old Mrs. Jones tunneled under my wall, I was too numb to be more than amazed. She’d apparently been working on the tunnel for days or weeks, and had done a lot of work with just a shovel and a pickaxe. I found her collapsed next to the tunnel early one morning, her lips blue and her body cold. She’d dug quite a bit of the yard up, and had even hacked at one of the bushes in the corner of the yard before collapsing.

I had stopped going to peoples’ funerals, but I made an exception for her funeral last week. Even though I didn’t know her very well, she was my neighbor, and she was always nice to me. Since then, nobody else has come into my backyard these last few days. I’ve been studying the situation though, and I think I’ve figured out what everyone else has missed. I think I know where the thing is. There’s a little patch of yard between two oak trees that nobody has touched. It has to be there.

I wanted to share this with everyone before I go out and look for it. My internet has started getting really spotty these last few minutes, so I don’t know if this update will go through, but I don’t really care. I will find it. It has to be there. I will find it. They just didn’t know where to look. I will find it.

I will find it.

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