The metal began to groan, contracting under the extreme cold.

“If we do this, the lights go out for good,” I said, looking at the girls.

“And we have to hope the sheriff gets through the snow in time.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Nathan said.

He stepped up to the safe, inserting his ring into a circular depression at the bottom of the steel box.

I stood beside him, holding the brass key, my hand hovering over the upper keyhole.

“On three,” Nathan said.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

We turned them simultaneously.

A sharp, metallic click echoed through the walls, followed by the sound of a heavy valve opening somewhere above us.

Instantly, the camera feed went black.

The green light of the terminal died, leaving us in complete, suffocating darkness.

From the hallway, a muffled, terrified scream cut through the steel door.

The scream died away, replaced by the heavy, rhythmic thudding of the backup generator kicking in deep below the floorboards.

A low, amber emergency light flickered to life in the corner of the ceiling.

It cast long, distorted shadows across the steel walls of the panic room.