I frowned and typed back carefully.
Michael:Not Spokane. Can't say more. We're okay. Tell Mom we're together.
After a moment:
Matthew:She's been setting four extra plates at dinner.
My throat tightened. I set the phone face down.
As Alex disappeared into the bedroom, Miles approached, voice pitched low. "So, on a scale of mildly inconvenient to we're totally screwed, where are we at?"
I considered the question seriously. "Somewhere in the middle but shifting rapidly toward the latter if we don't get that upload completed."
Marcus interjected, arms crossed. "Or we could cut our losses. Pull the drive and move. Get clear, find another upload site."
Alex called from the bedroom. "If we interrupt the verification process now, we lose everything. The data could be corrupted, or worse, traceable."
Marcus replied in a clipped voice. "I'm just saying, I've seen operations like this go sideways fast. No intel's worth dying for."
I stepped between them with a flat tone. "We're not dead yet. We stay on task."
Alex returned with a notebook full of his precise handwriting. He set it on the table next to his laptop, immediately resuming his work with focused intensity.
Watching him work, I allowed myself to imagine a different scenario—one where we'd met under ordinary circumstances. Perhaps at one of Seattle's overpriced coffee shops or browsing the same section at Elliott Bay Book Company. What would have developed between us without the catalyst of crisis? Would I have recognized what he could mean to me without the clarity that danger brought?
The fantasy evaporated when the lights suddenly flickered. The overhead fixture dimmed, brightened, and then stabilized. The hum of the refrigerator stopped momentarily before resuming its steady drone.
We all froze, exchanging glances.
Miles did his best to come up with an innocuous explanation. "Generator hiccup?"
Alex reported from the table. "The upload's still running. No disruption."
I moved to check the cabin's ancient breaker box, mounted on the wall near the back door. All switches remained in their proper positions. Nothing had tripped. It wasn't a power failure. It had to be something else.
Next, we heard a low, distant rumble that vibrated through the floorboards beneath our feet. It didn't crash and recede like thunder. The sound maintained its pitch and intensity, rolling toward us like an approaching tide.
"That's not thunder." I moved to the front window.
Marcus joined me, shoulders tense. "Helicopter?"
"Too sustained. Too far away to identify clearly."
Alex's chair scraped against the floor as he stood. "The power fluctuations could be electromagnetic interference. Military communications can cause that sometimes."
We all turned to look at him, surprised by his technical knowledge.
He shrugged. "What? I wrote my dissertation on Cold War surveillance technologies. The Stasi, East German secret police, used similar disruption patterns."
Miles pressed his ear against the wall. "Whatever it is, it's coming from the valley. Still distant, though."
I turned to Alex. "Check the upload again. Make sure it hasn't been interrupted."
He returned to his laptop while I retrieved my go-bag from beneath the bed—a compact duffel containing essential survival gear, a secondary weapon, ammunition, and emergency cash. Standard preparation for anyone who'd spent time in hostile territory.
When I returned, Alex was typing rapidly, brow furrowed in concentration. "Upload's still running, but the connection speed has dropped by forty percent. Something's affected our signal."
It was Marcus's turn to suggest something innocuous. "Could be the weather. These mountain networks aren't fiber-optic cable."
