The Truth Buried Deep Inside My Father’s Empty New Jersey Coffin
I looked at the security terminal, recognizing the system architecture.
It was the same system I had been trained on at the Virginia facility.
Raymond had built it, and he had coded a back door.
A back door that only I knew how to navigate.
“Father,” I said, my eyes fixed on the flickering screen.
“The auxiliary power grid.”
“Is the defense array still active?”
Raymond looked at me, a realization dawning in his eyes.
“Yes,” he said.
“But it’s dangerous.”
“So are they,” I said.
I reached out and shoved my father away from the keyboard, my fingers taking his place.
The keys felt familiar, my fingers moving without conscious thought.
A map of the house’s exterior layout appeared on the screen.
I entered the override sequence, my mind pulling the codes from the dark corners of my childhood.
On the screen, a series of defensive protocols flashed from yellow to red.
“Natalie,” Mara said, her eyes wide as she watched the monitors.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m turning the house against them,” I said.
Outside, the heavy rumble of engines grew louder.