Chapter 7
The rhythmic beep... beep... beep... cut through the sound of the howling rain like a knife. It was a sterile, electronic sound that belonged in a laboratory or a bomb squad training video, not in a nursery decorated with pastel animals and lavender scent.
"Mark! Stop hitting the door!" I screamed, dropping to my knees in the dark, shielding little Leo’s tiny body with my own arms. "There's something in the diaper bag! It's a timer!"
Mark abandoned his assault on the locked door instantly, his heavy boots skidding across the hardwood floor as he rushed toward my voice. "Move, Clara! Let me see!"
"Don't touch it!" Elena shrieked from somewhere near the window, her voice pitching up into a hysterical octave. "It's a bomb! She planted it here! She's trying to blow us all up to cover her tracks!"
"I didn't plant anything, you paranoid maniac!" I cried out, hot tears streaming down my face as I fumbled frantically through the zipper of the diaper bag. My trembling fingers brushed past baby bottles, packs of sensitive wipes, and spare onesies until they hit hard, cold metal.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the room, casting long, grotesque shadows. In the brief flash, I saw the device clearly. It was a black rectangular box no larger than a hardcover book, secured tightly to the side of the bag with heavy-duty zip ties. A digital LED screen was glowing with bright red numbers counting down from 02:45... 02:44... 02:43...
Mark dropped to his knees beside me, his athletic frame trembling as he stared at the glowing numbers. "Where did you get this bag, Clara? Did you pack this?"
"It was sitting right here on the rocking chair the entire afternoon!" I sobbed, my voice breaking entirely. "Mark, look at me. Do you really think I would put a bomb—or whatever this is—in the same room as my own child? Use your head!"
"We need to get out of here," Mark said, panic finally breaking through his stubborn denial. He stood up, grabbed the heavy wooden rocking chair by its arms, and hurled it with all his might directly at the bedroom window.
Crash!
The double-paned glass shattered into a thousand glittering shards, letting the cold night wind and rain rush into the nursery. But instead of an open escape route, our breath caught in our throats. Stretched tightly across the entire window frame from the outside was a thick, industrial-grade steel security mesh, bolted securely into the brickwork.
"They caged us in," Elena whispered, her voice dead and hollow as she stared at the mesh. "We're trapped in here to die."
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The digital timer on the floor beeped faster. 01:15... 01:14... 01:13...
Mark grabbed a heavy brass candlestick from the dresser and began hacking frantically at the steel mesh, while I clutched Leo to my chest, closing my eyes as the numbers ticked down to thirty seconds.
