Page 143 of Beyond Protection
Not a flicker. Not a brownout. Just an immediate, total absence of light.
The Christmas tree died mid-twinkle. The refrigerator's hum cut off. The clock's second hand stopped.
Ma's voice: "What in the—"
"Don't move." Marcus's command cut through the dark. "Nobody move until I get a light."
I froze. The darkness was complete.
A flashlight bloomed near the window. Marcus's face appeared behind it, underlit and strange.
"Breaker?" Matthew asked.
"No." Marcus moved toward the front door. "Whole block's out. Look."
I turned toward the windows. No streetlights. No porch lights on neighboring houses. The cruisers killed their light bars—black silhouettes in the snow, flashlights knifing the dark.
"The storm," Miles said. "Power lines down somewhere."
Officers shouted—muffled through walls and snow but urgent. Radio static crackled.
Ma appeared from the kitchen with a camping lantern—battery-powered, LED, bright enough to carve a glowing circle in the living room.
"Everyone, stay together," Marcus said. "Center of the house."
We moved. Stumbling in the dark, hands on walls for guidance. Claire grabbed my arm.
Glass shattered.
The sound came from below. Basement. Something breaking inward.
Everyone froze.
"Basement window," Matthew whispered. "Southeast corner."
That window. Small. Ground-level. The one Eamon hated.
"She's inside," I said.
"Get them out," Marcus said to Matthew. "Back door. Get Ma and Claire to the officers."
"Marcus—" Ma started.
"Now. Please."
I grabbed Ma's arm. Claire reached for my other hand. We moved toward the kitchen, the camping lantern swinging and casting wild shadows.
Behind us, Marcus and Miles headed for the basement stairs.
"Wait—" I turned back.
"Keep moving," Matthew said. His hand landed on my shoulder, propelling me forward.
I heard more sounds from the basement. It wasn't the sound of panic.
Walking. Methodical. Someone who knew exactly where they were going.
"Go," I told Ma. "Both of you. Out the back door."
