Chapter 11
The violent shower of blue-white electric sparks illuminated the narrow hallway in strobe-like flashes, hissing loudly as live current shorted out against the metal framing of the safe. Screams echoed off the wooden walls as the tactical gear of the federal agents clattered against the narrow corridor. In the sudden, blinding flash of the electrical short, Chloe felt herself being violently yanked backward into the master bedroom by a pair of strong, familiar hands.
"Move! Now!" Mark hissed in her ear, his grip iron-tight as he dragged her across the threshold away from the sparking drywall.
The heavy oak bedroom door slammed shut behind them with a resounding thud, cutting off the immediate glare of the hallway lights. The room was bathed in pitch darkness, save for the pale moonlight filtering through the dusty sheer curtains of the window overlooking the backyard. Heavy thuds and shouted orders sounded from the other side of the bedroom door as the federal agents scrambled to kick it open.
Chloe’s chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her back pressed hard against the side of the mahogany dresser. "Mark, they're going to break the door down! We're trapped!"
"Not yet," a gravelly voice rasped from the corner of the darkened bedroom.
Chloe jumped, her heart leaping into her throat as a tall silhouette detached itself from the shadows near the walk-in closet. It was Thomas, holding a heavy iron crowbar he must have retrieved from the bedroom tool chest earlier that evening.
"Uncle Thomas?" Chloe breathed out, clutching her chest. "How did you get in here ahead of us?"
"There's a service tunnel connecting this wing to the garage," Thomas whispered urgently, jamming the flat end of the crowbar beneath the wide wooden baseboard near the floor. "Your father built it as an emergency exit back when the threats first started rolling in."
The sound of a heavy boot slamming against the exterior bedroom door echoed through the room, splintering the frame and sending a shower of wood chips flying across the carpet.
"They're coming through!" Mark yelled, throwing his full weight against the heavy oak dresser to barricade the entrance.
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Thomas ignored the commotion, throwing his entire body weight onto the crowbar with a low grunt. With a sharp, cracking sound, the entire floorboard section lifted upward, revealing a dark, yawning concrete opening that smelled of damp earth and old iron.
"In, now!" Thomas ordered, pointing down into the black abyss. "Before Miller reaches the master switch!"
