Chapter 10
The sudden plunge into darkness choked the kitchen in an oppressive, velvety blackness. The only illumination came from the relentless, rhythmic pulse of the red LED light on the silver flash drive, casting long, jittery shadows against the cupboards. Mark froze, his hand hovering inches from the garage door handle, listening for the faintest sound of movement in the hallway.
"Stay behind me," Mark whispered, his fingers closing around the metal doorknob. He turned it; the latch slid back with a smooth, silent motion, proving his route to the garage was at least physically unobstructed.
Sarah reached out in the dark, her fingers finding the hem of Mark’s navy blue T-shirt. "Mark, look at the counter," she breathed, her voice trembling so violently he could feel the vibration against his arm.
Mark turned his head back toward the kitchen island. In the pulsing red glow of the flash drive, the smoke detector circuit board he had left on the marble surface was no longer sitting still. It was sliding slowly across the stone, pulled by an invisible, magnetic tether toward the floor vent beneath the refrigerator.
Leo giggled softly in the dark—a high, musical sound that felt entirely out of place in the tense, suffocating room. "The spider is hungry," the toddler whispered, his footsteps pattering lightly against the tile as he walked directly toward the moving circuit board.
"Leo, stop!" Sarah lunged forward into the dark, her hands sweeping across the floor to grab her son before he reached the vent. Her fingers brushed against the toddler's green sweatshirt, pulling him back against her chest just as a sharp, metallic clatter echoed from inside the ductwork, followed by the sound of a heavy iron grate being forcefully unlatched from below.
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A thick plume of white steam billowed up from the floor vent, smelling faintly of ozone and scorched plastic. Through the vapor, a hand reached up—a gloved hand wearing a ring with the exact same corporate insignia Mark had thrown into the garage incinerator six months ago.
Mark shoved Sarah and Leo back toward the open garage door, his adrenaline surging as he grabbed the heavy wooden broom from the pantry and jammed it downward into the vent opening, pinning the reaching hand against the metal grating with a sharp crack of bone and steel.
