“Response team?” Megan echoed, her voice thin. “Like… more officers?”
Riley shook his head once, a sharp, definitive motion. “No. Federal.”
Two black SUVs pulled into the driveway less than forty minutes later, quiet as shadows. No sirens. No flashing lights. Just unmarked vehicles and the kind of purposeful, efficient movement that made Daniel’s stomach knot. Three agents stepped out; two in plain dark jackets, one in a heavier tactical vest that read HAZMAT CONSULT in small, reflective lettering. Behind them, a fourth person exited the vehicle carrying a sleek metal case. He looked different from the others: older, wiry, with a calm, assessing gaze behind thin-framed glasses.
“Dr. Halpern,” he introduced himself with a curt nod. “Environmental toxicology. You’re the homeowners?” Daniel and Megan could only nod. Agent Brooks, tall, sharp-jawed, professional to the point of stillness, stepped forward. “We need you both to stay upstairs unless we say otherwise,” she instructed, her tone leaving no room for debate. “Officer Riley briefed us. We’re going to assess the site and determine if this is a contamination hazard.”
*Contamination. Hazard.* The words landed like physical blows, making Megan’s throat tighten. The team moved past them with quiet efficiency, descending into the basement. After several minutes, Dr. Halpern returned, already at work scraping a sample of the pulsating black growth into a glass vial, his brow tightening. “It’s fungal,” he murmured, more to himself than to them. “But the colony is feeding on something.”
Megan swallowed hard. “Feeding? What d
“You mean feeding?” Halpern didn’t sugarcoat it. “Fungi don’t grow like this without a nutrient source. Could be damp wood rot… could be a dead rodent… could be—” He hesitated just long enough to make her stomach flip. “…something larger.”
Daniel felt the hair on his arms rise. Before either of them could ask more, the agents began lowering the ladder into the opening. One by one, they disappeared beneath the floor, their powerful flashlights slicing through the darkness as their radios crackled softly with static. “Lower level is intact,” one agent’s voice echoed up, hollow and distorted. “There’s a metal door… definitely rusted, warped. And the growth is worse down here.”
Another voice followed, uneasy and not bothering to hide it: “It’s like the wall is breathing.” Megan pressed a hand to her mouth. A long, heavy pause followed—the kind that made Daniel’s skin crawl. Then an agent’s voice, hushed but urgent, broke the silence: “…Brooks. You need to come see this.” Without a word, Halpern descended next, climbing down the ladder with a stiff, precise motion.
Daniel and Megan hovered above the opening, listening to the fragments of tense conversation that drifted upward. “…pressure building…” “…door’s bulging from the inside…” “…if it’s feeding on that—we can’t ignore it.” Daniel’s pulse hammered in his ears. Beside him, Megan gripped the arm of the couch so tightly her knuckles bleached white.