Chapter 3 - THE CRYPT OF SECRETS
“The Gated Community’s Darkest Secret is Underground.”The red numbers bled into the darkness of the hole. Ten minutes. They had ten minutes before the chamber beneath them became a metal coffin.
“Give me the code!” Daniel screamed, grabbing Patricia by the collar of her silk blouse, pulling her face inches from his. “Give it to me, or I swear to God, I will not let you leave this room alive!”
“I don’t have the master bypass!” Patricia whimpered, her bravado finally cracking under the sheer terror of Daniel's expression. “I only have the daily check-in code! The developer—the one who built this entire neighborhood—he has the bypass. He’s the one who runs the server!”
“Who is he?!” Daniel demanded.
“Mr. Vance,” Patricia gasped, choking on her own saliva. “Alvaro Vance. He lives in the mansion at the end of the cul-de-sac. The one with the black iron gates. He... he collects them, Daniel. He keeps them in the sub-basements of the model homes until they are 'ready' to be shipped out.”
Shipped out. The words felt like physical blows.
“You sold my son,” Mariana whispered, her voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly calm. “You brought us food. You hugged me while I cried. And all the while, you had him buried under your feet.”
“I had debts!” Patricia shrieked. “They were going to kill me! They offered to wipe my slate clean if I just hosted the 'storage unit' for a few months! I didn't steal him, Daniel! I didn't take him from the backyard!”
Daniel’s mind spun. If Patricia didn’t take him... who did?
07:45... 07:44...
“We don't have time for this,” Daniel muttered. He looked at the keypad. It was a standard high-security biometric and numeric lock.
“Inés,” Daniel said, turning to his five-year-old daughter, who was staring blankly at the floorboards. “Sweetheart, did Leo ever talk to you through the floor before today?”
Inés nodded slowly. “He told me a secret code. He said the bad man whispered it to himself every time he opened the door.”
“Do you remember it, baby? Please tell Daddy.”
Inés closed her eyes, squeezing her small hands together. “He said it sounded like my birthday... but backwards.”
Daniel’s breath hitched. Inés’s birthday was October 23rd—10/23. Backwards... 3-2-0-1.
Daniel lunged at the keypad. His fingers were sweating so heavily he could barely press the buttons. 3... 2... 0... 1... He holding his breath. He hit the ENT key.
BEEP. The red countdown stopped at 05:12.
With a heavy, pneumatic hiss, the steel hatch unlocked and swung open.
A ladder led down into a concrete room no larger than a walk-in closet. Daniel grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen drawer and scrambled down the ladder, his heart in his throat.
The flashlight beam cut through the darkness of the subterranean chamber.
There was a small cot, a bucket, a few drawing papers scattered on the floor, and a small, trembling figure curled up in the corner, clutching a dirty red toy car.
“Leo...” Daniel sobbed, dropping to his knees.
The boy raised his head. His face was pale, his eyes sunken, but it was him. It was his boy.
“Daddy?” Leo whimpered, throwing his frail arms around Daniel’s neck. “I knew you’d find me. I kept knocking.”
But as Daniel lifted his son to carry him up the ladder, his flashlight swept across the far wall of the concrete bunker.
Mounted on the wall was a massive, glowing flat-screen monitor. It displayed sixteen live camera feeds.
Daniel stopped dead in his tracks.
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Every single camera was pointed inside the homes of their neighbors in this "perfect" gated community. And on the center screen, labeled Vance Mansion, Daniel saw a live feed of Patricia’s living room.
A man in a dark suit was watching them through the screen right now. He raised a glass of whiskey toward the camera, smiled, and picked up a phone.
