I scrambled down the wooden stairs, my boots slipping on the damp steps.

The basement smelled of old concrete, wet earth, and stagnant water.

My thumb hovered over the screen, watching the transfer progress bar reach forty percent.

The black drive was taped securely to the back of my phone, connected by a short ribbon cable.

I needed to keep this connection stable for another two minutes.

Above me, a splintering sound echoed as the top hinge of the door gave way.

“Natalie!” my mother’s voice called out from the hallway above.

It was cold, devoid of any maternal warmth, carrying only the flat authority of a commanding officer.

“Stop this nonsense immediately,” she said.

“You are destroying everything we built to protect this country.”

I did not answer.

I looked around the dark basement for a place to hide or a weapon to hold.

My flashlight beam swept across rusty metal shelving, old cardboard boxes, and a thick concrete pillar.

A second blow struck the door, and the wood split down the center.

The progress bar on my screen hit sixty percent.