Chapter 6 - The Emergency Override
The sharp click of the deadbolt locking from the inside sent a jolt of pure panic through Mark. He slammed his palm against the heavy oak panel of the front door, shouting Sarah and Lily's names, but his voice was muffled by the thick insulation.
"Sarah! Can you hear me? Unlock the door!" Mark yelled, testing the brass handle again. It remained stubbornly rigid.
From inside the house, Sarah’s muffled voice floated back through the wood. "Mark! The deadbolt turned by itself! I didn't touch it!"
Mark’s mind raced. As a software engineer, he had designed the smart home automation system himself, ensuring that manual overrides were built into every exterior access point for emergencies just like this. He hurried off the porch, running around the side of the house toward the detached garage where the emergency mechanical key was kept in a combination-locked box behind the fuse panel.
The cold night air burned his lungs as he sprinted across the frosty lawn. He punched the four-digit code into the lock box with numb fingers, popped the metal door open, and grabbed the heavy brass key. He rushed back to the side entrance door that led directly into the kitchen, shoved the key into the brass cylinder, and turned it with a sharp twist. The latch gave way with a satisfying click, and he pushed the door open, stepping back into the warm interior of the house.
"Sarah! Lily!" Mark called out, slamming the door shut behind him to lock out the biting wind.
The kitchen was dead silent. The overhead fluorescent lights buzzed with an erratic, flickering rhythm, casting erratic shadows across the granite countertops. Mark walked briskly into the dining room, his heart pounding against his ribs.
Sarah was standing in the center of the room, staring blankly at the mahogany dining table. But Lily was nowhere to be seen.
"Sarah, where is she? Where is Lily?" Mark demanded, grabbing his wife by the shoulders and shaking her gently to break her trance-like state.
Sarah blinked slowly, her eyes looking glazed and unfocused as she turned to face him. "She went back to the laundry room, Mark," Sarah said in a flat, monotone voice that bore no resemblance to her usual frantic self. "She said Abigail was waiting for her to finish the game."
Mark didn't wait to hear another word. He turned and sprinted toward the basement door at the end of the hall, throwing the wooden door open and staring down the dark, yawning stairwell.
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From the absolute bottom of the stairs, in the pitch-black darkness, came the unmistakable sound of a little girl softly singing a nursery rhyme, accompanied by the wet, dragging sound of heavy footsteps.
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