Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
Next, she tried calling the all-purpose emergency number on both phones, then Kelvin’s number, and got the same endless ringing in response.
Bars or no bars, something had obviously gone wrong with the Containment Zone’s lone cell tower. Was this a normal outage, born of neglect and the Zone’s crumbling infrastructure? Or had the zombies somehow managed to compromise the tower? They’d been created and trained to kill werewolves, not target communications systems, and according to Not-Chad, the creatures still couldn’t climb or use tools. But a random outage occurring at the exact same time as a breach seemedverycoincidental.
Didn’t matter right now. Those questions could wait until she found another way to sound the alarm and ensure her neighbors’ safety.
“I assume there’s internet coverage down here?” When he slanted her a look of scornful incredulity, she muttered, “Of course there is. It’s amodern amenity. I can’t make calls for some reason, but the Zone hotline must have a website where we can report a breach…”
When she tapped her screen to access the internet, though, she got an error message. The same thing happened on his phone.
Again, this wasn’t the first time the Zone’s infrastructure hadfailed her, and she’d already determined that the cell tower must be damaged or malfunctioning. But hadn’t Not-Chad been glancing through his messages even after the phone lines stopped working?
“Why thehellscan’t I get online?” She thrust the cell back into his hands. “Fix this.”
With an expression of strained tolerance, he tapped a few times on his screen. Then frowned.
“The internet’s down,” he said slowly.
Her glare should have turned him to ash. “Yes. I know. Do something about it.”
“It’s never down. I installed my own system, specifically to prevent outages.” His brows drew together. “I was online just a minute ago. What the fuck?”
The overhead lights flickered and went out.
She froze, rendered silent by bewilderment and creeping dread.
They stood wordless in stygian darkness for several moments, until a faint buzzing sound heralded the return of his underground home’s electricity. Not every light illuminated, but enough to see all but the most shadowy corners of the space.
“That’s my generator,” he said, his frown deepening. “The power’s still out.”
“What…” She spread her hands. “What the hells is happening here?”
His mouth firmed in determination. “Let me check my security system.”
When he toed off his gore-stained shoes and washed his bloody hands at the kitchen sink, she did the same. Afterward, as he about-faced and marched past the seating area, she trailedbehind him. A dim hallway ahead of them contained several doors, and he entered the first on the right. His media room, evidently, complete with—
Was that a softbox in the corner? And a ring light on a sturdy-looking tripod?
What in the world did Not-Chaddodown here? Was this a sheepskin-fetish OnlyFans thing? And if so, would an irresistible combination of prurience and sheer morbid curiosity force her to subscribe to his channel?
Another sleek sofa had been placed in front of a television with a very large screen, and a computer station occupied the wall behind the off-white couch. Without a word, he strode directly to the Mac and booted it up, then sat and clicked his mouse a few times.
His wide, curved monitor lit up with footage from around his property and within his house, both the 1960s section and their current, expansive shelter far underground. Also, on the bottom right of the screen, wasn’t that—
“You have no right to spy on my house!” She poked his shoulder, which had all the warmth and give of a stone statue. “What the hells, Not-Chad?”
When he didn’t respond, she poked him again.
Sounding sulky, he muttered, “During construction, I needed to track your comings and goings to ensure secrecy.”
“Construction is done. It’s been done for a long time now, I’m guessing.”
He shifted in his chair. “Criminals have claimed some abandoned buildings in the Zone. They’ve occasionally broken into occupied homes too.”
“That explains the security system protectingyourhouse, butit doesn’t explain why you’re filmingmyyard and all four sides ofmyhouse,” she emphasized. “Especially when I haven’t given you permission and my life ostensibly means nothing to you.”
She raised her brows at him and waited.
