Chapter 15 - The Siege at the Farmhouse
Two hours earlier, back in the quiet valley of upstate New York, the shadows of the maple trees lengthened across the green lawn. Oliver sat at the kitchen table, drawing a picture of a boat with three figures inside: himself, Lena, and baby Grace.
The security guard outside made his rounds every ten minutes, but on the eleventh minute, the footsteps stopped.
Oliver lifted his crayon, his ears twitching. A dull thud shook the porch deck.
"Guard Thomas?" Oliver called out, his voice trembling.
Silence answered. Then, the rhythmic notes of the lullaby began playing from Thomas’s abandoned radio on the front steps. Oliver had heard those notes before—in the cellar, right before the men in masks had locked him inside the velvet-lined base of the harp.
*Run to the roof,* Daniel’s memory whispered into the boy’s mind. *If the music plays without me, Oliver, you take your sister and you lock the hatch.*
Oliver bolted toward the nursery. Grace was standing in her crib, babbling happily, reaching out her chubby arms. Oliver dragged a chair across the floor, hoisted his small frame up, and unlatched the safety rail. He gathered Grace in his arms, her weight pulling him down, but the fear of the dark chest gave him unnatural strength.
Downstairs, the front door splintered open with a thunderous crack. Heavy combat boots hit the floorboards.
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"Check the bedrooms!" a voice barked. "Take the baby too—the old man wants leverage."
***
