Reading the markings
Tom brushed dirt away from one of the old beams and spotted something faint. Letters had been burned or scorched into the surface. “MLB co… I can’t read the rest of it,” he said, squinting in the dim light. Charles knelt beside him, staring at the letters. A chill passed through him. Someone had been down here. Not animals. Not nature. People. People who knew this tunnel existed—or worse, people who built it themselves.
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