THE NIGHT WE BURIED THE PAST BENEATH THE FLOORBOARDS OF OAK STREET

The heavy steel detonator bounced twice against the concrete lip of the basement window before disappearing into the black, smoke-filled interior. A second later, a dull metallic clatter echoed from below, followed immediately by a sharp, electronic buzzing sound that set Clara’s teeth on edge.

"No!" Arthur roared, trying to push himself up on his injured leg, but the knee gave out instantly, sending him crashing back down into the mud. He glared at Elena with pure venom. "You stupid bitch. You just triggered the manual override."

"Shut up, Arthur," Clara said, her voice terrifyingly calm as she drew the revolver from her cardigan pocket once more. She stepped over her uncle without looking down, walking straight to the edge of the basement window. Thick gray smoke was now billowing out in thick, choking plumes, carrying the distinct scent of burning paper and melting plastic.

"Clara, you can't go down there!" Elena cried out, rushing over to grab the sleeve of Clara’s green cardigan. "It's a trap! The whole place is going to blow!"

"If I don't go down there and pull the manual plug on that server, every single person who ever trusted my grandfather is going to be exposed to men like Arthur," Clara replied, her voice soft but entirely resolute. She looked back at Elena, her eyes softening for just a moment. "Take the kid and get out to the street. Wait for the cops. If I'm not back out in five minutes... don't look for me."

Before Elena could argue further, Clara swung her legs over the concrete ledge and dropped feet-first into the burning darkness of the basement.

The heat hit her like a wall of fire, instantly stealing the breath from her lungs. She coughed violently, pulling the collar of her white shirt up over her nose and mouth. The beam of natural daylight from the window faded quickly as she navigated the narrow, smoke-choked corridor, feeling along the damp brick wall for the emergency breaker panel.

Through the haze of smoke, a dull red glow illuminated the far corner of the cellar. There, bolted to the reinforced concrete foundation, stood a massive, server rack humming with terrifying energy. Sparks showered down from the ceiling like fireworks, landing dangerously close to a row of old fuel canisters.