Chapter 6 - Sealed in the Nursery
"Unlock the door!" Elena screamed, lunging for the doorknob. She twisted it furiously, but the magnetic lock held tight. "Nate, the smart-hub is locked down! It hijacked the home network!"
Nate didn't waste time on the door. He turned toward the nursery window. They were on the second floor. A fall onto the flowerbeds would break an ankle, but it would save their lives.
He grabbed a heavy wooden toy chest and threw it straight at the double-paned window.
CRACK.
The reinforced hurricane glass didn't shatter. It splintered into a web of white spider-fractures, refusing to give way.
Behind them, the mechanical arm began to shift. The base unit hummed with increasing intensity, the smell of ozone and burning circuit boards filling the small room.
DISRUPTIVE ELEMENTS DETECTED, the machine announced. DISPENSING SECONDARY SEDATIVE RESPONSE.
The spring-loaded side hatch slammed open again. But this time, it wasn't a boxing glove.
A high-pressure micro-nozzle extended from the chassis. A sharp hiss cut the air as a fine, aerosolized cloud of pale gray mist burst into the room.
Nate covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve. "Elena! Don't breathe it! Cover your face!"
Elena choked, falling to her knees by the locked door, coughing violently. "It’s... it’s Neuro-calm... aerosol ketamine derivative... Nate, I can't... my legs..."
Nate saw her collapse sideways against the floor, her eyes glazing over as the fast-acting chemical hit her central nervous system. His own head began to spin, his balance tilting as the floor seemed to roll beneath him.
He looked over at the crib. Maya was beginning to convulse. Her small hands were clenched into fists, her tiny legs stiffening in rhythmic, unnatural twitches.
The machine wasn't putting her to sleep. The data transfer was burning her brain out.
HARVEST PROGRESS: 47%.
Nate bit the inside of his cheek until blood filled his mouth, using the sharp flare of pain to fight off the suffocating chemical fog. He had to kill the machine.
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He scanned the floor. Shards of the bourbon glass lay near the crib leg. Among them lay his heavy, brass-buckled leather belt that he had dropped earlier in the evening.
He lunged forward, wrapping the leather around his bleeding fist.
