Chapter 12 - The Blackwood Foundation
The second police cruiser rounded the corner of the quiet suburban street, leaving the flickering porch light of our house behind in the distance. Inside the cramped back seat, the air smelled heavily of old vinyl and ozone. My father stared blankly out the window, his wrists aching against the cold steel of the handcuffs, his mind racing to process the terrifying glimpse of the figure standing on our porch just seconds before we turned the corner.
In the driver's seat, the officer tapped impatiently on his radio console, trying to re-establish a secure connection with the precinct dispatch. "Control, come in. Requesting an immediate records check on the Blackwood Foundation property registry for this district. Over."
A burst of static crackled over the radio speaker before a strained, unfamiliar voice broke through the channel. "Unit Four, be advised. National database indicates the Blackwood Foundation was flagged under a classified federal oversight protocol twenty years ago. All municipal records for that specific address were sealed by court order following a string of unsolved missing persons cases."
The driver slammed his hand onto the steering wheel, the cruiser swerving slightly before steadying on the wet asphalt. "Unsolved missing persons? Nobody told us anything about a federal flag when we answered the domestic disturbance call. What jurisdiction are we operating under right now?"
"Negative on local jurisdiction, Unit Four," the radio squawked back, the audio beginning to warp with digital distortion. "You are ordered to abort transport immediately and return to the precinct. The occupants of that vehicle are—"
The radio transmission cut out entirely, replaced by a high-pitched, deafening squeal of feedback that forced the officer to rip the handset from its mount. Simultaneously, the digital dashboard display flickered, turning a solid, blinding crimson before rebooting with a custom interface bearing a stark corporate logo: a stylized white rabbit silhouette inside a black circle.
In the lead cruiser ahead of them, my mother's car didn't slow down. Instead, its brake lights flashed once in unison, and the vehicle accelerated smoothly into the thick fog rolling in from the nearby woods, ignoring every instruction from the central dispatcher.
My father gripped the mesh security partition between the front and back seats, his knuckles turning white. "She's not taking me to the station," he said, his voice raspy and hollow in the confined space. "She's taking us to wherever they keep the rest of the files."
The officer in the front seat turned his head, his face pale under the dashboard's crimson glow. "Shut up and sit back. We're following protocol, we're going back to—"
May you like
He never finished the sentence. A sharp, localized electromagnetic pulse rippled through the electrical system of the cruiser, killing the engine instantly. The headlights died, the dashboard went completely dark, and the vehicle coasted to a silent, terrifying halt in the middle of the desolate wooded highway.
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