Chapter 34 - The Digital Trap
Anthony rushed back to the house, his face pale and rain-soaked. He locked the front door with three separate deadbolts—something he had never done before—and woke me up immediately. We sat at the kitchen island, whispering in the dark so as not to wake Maya, who was sleeping soundly down the hall.
"She mentioned my father's research," Anthony said, his hands shaking slightly as he poured himself a glass of water. "Clara, I thought that drive was destroyed years ago when the lab burned down."
"Your father was a genius, Anthony," I said, my mind racing through every possibility. "If he knew people were coming after his work, he wouldn't have kept it in a physical lab. He would have hidden it somewhere digital. Somewhere completely unexpected."
"Where?"
"Think about how your father thought," I urged, grabbing a pen and paper. "He was meticulous. He loved puzzles. Did he leave anything behind to Maya? Any old toys, books, or keepsakes?"
Anthony’s eyes widened. "The wooden puzzle box! The one he gave Maya for her fifth birthday, just a few months before he passed away. We thought it was just a handcrafted toy with missing pieces."
We sprinted down the hall to Maya’s room, carefully tiptoeing past her bed where she lay clutching her favorite stuffed rabbit. On her bookshelf sat the heavy, intricately carved wooden puzzle box her grandfather had made by hand.
Back in the kitchen, under the harsh light of the overhead lamp, Anthony examined the box. He pressed a hidden seam along the bottom edge, a trick his father had taught him when they were children. With a soft click, a secret compartment slid open, revealing a small, black USB drive stamped with a faded serial number.
"We found it," Anthony whispered in awe.
May you like
Before we could even plug it into the laptop to inspect its contents, the kitchen lights flickered violently and then died completely, plunging the house into absolute darkness. Outside, the streetlights along our block blinked out one by one, swallowed by an unnatural, creeping shadow.
From the hallway came the faint, terrifying sound of floorboards creaking under the weight of someone stepping inside our home.
