Chapter 9 - The Power Cut
The sudden darkness swallowed the basement whole, leaving only the dim, dying glow of the UPS battery backup on Leo's lower computer tower casting long, erratic shadows across the room.
Leo pushed his chair back, the plastic wheels scraping against the concrete floor. "What the hell? Did a transformer blow?"
"That wasn't a transformer," Sofia said, her voice dropping to a tense whisper as she stood up from the stool. She pointed toward the small high basement window that looked out onto the front driveway.
Outside, the streetlights along the suburban block were blinking out one by one, plunging the neighborhood into an unnatural, rolling blackout.
"Stay here," Leo instructed, reaching into a tool drawer and pulling out a heavy metal flashlight. He clicked it on, the bright beam cutting through the dusty air.
He moved cautiously toward the basement stairs that led up into the kitchen, his senses on high alert. The house was dead silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator winding down as it lost power.
He pushed the kitchen door open and stepped onto the linoleum floor, sweeping the flashlight beam across the room. Everything appeared undisturbed—the coffee maker sat silently on the counter, the mail rested neatly by the back door.
Then he noticed the back window above the kitchen sink.
The latch was slid open, and a sharp draft of cold night air was drifting into the room.
Leo froze, his grip tightening around the metal flashlight. He slowly approached the sink, shining the beam down onto the counter. Resting right beside the faucet was a small, unfamiliar object—a polished silver USB drive identical to the one he had used in the district server room.
"Leo?" Sofia called out softly from the basement doorway behind him, her footsteps approaching cautiously. "Did you find out what tripped the breaker?"
"Sofia, don't move," Leo whispered, his eyes locked on the silver drive resting on the kitchen counter.
He stepped closer, reaching out a hand to inspect the object. Taped to the side of the drive was a small square of adhesive paper with a single handwritten address scrawled in neat, cursive ink: 742 Elm Street, Midnight.
"What is that?" Sofia asked, stepping into the kitchen and peering over his shoulder at the note.
"I think someone wants us to have the rest of the file," Leo said, turning the drive over in his hand. "Or they're leading us straight into another trap."
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Before Sofia could answer, the phone in the charging dock on the kitchen wall suddenly lit up, vibrating violently against the wood. The screen flashed with an incoming call from an unknown, restricted number.
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