Chapter 38 - THE BLACKOUT CORRIDOR
The Culpeper proving grounds were surrounded by a triple-layer perimeter of razor wire and motion-activated sensor towers, but the heavy rain was working in our favor. The deluge scattered the infrared beams just enough to create blind spots along the eastern drainage canal.
Keeping low in the ditch, Sarah and I moved like shadows beneath the storm. I kept my weapon drawn, watching the sweeps of the spotlight mounted on the bunker's guard tower.
"The main entrance is biometric and hard-coded," Sarah whispered, her teeth chattering from the freezing runoff. "Even if we reach the blast doors, I can't bypass the thermal scanner without an authorized syndicate clearance."
"We don't need clearance," I replied, pointing toward the heavy transformer yard that supplied power to the underground facility. "We cut the juice."
"The backup generators will kick in within three seconds," she noted.
"Three seconds is all an analog lock needs to revert to failsafe mode," I said. "Under federal fire code, all subterranean facilities must disengage magnetic seals during a total power transition to prevent personnel from suffocating. It's the law. Even a syndicate of corrupt tyrants can't completely rewrite physics."
Two contractor guards patrolled the perimeter fence line ahead, their assault rifles slung across their chests as they struggled against the biting wind. I crept behind the first guard, my boots silent in the drenched grass. Before his partner could turn, I struck the base of his skull with the butt of my pistol, catching his falling body and lowering him without a sound.
The second guard whirled around, his weapon coming up, but Sarah was already on him. She drove the blunt end of her tactical crowbar into his knee, dropping him to the gravel before I stepped in and neutralized him with a clean strike to the jaw.
I stripped the keycards and a pair of fragmentation grenades from their tactical vests.
"Head for the ventilation intake behind the substation," I told Sarah. "When the lights flicker, you pry that intake grate open. I'll be right behind you."
I sprinted toward the main substation transformers, pulling the pin on the captured grenade and wedging it between the primary coolant line and the high-voltage busbar.
"Three seconds," I muttered to myself, turning on my heel and sprinting toward the perimeter fence.
The grenade detonated with a deafening crack, followed instantly by a brilliant turquoise flash as thirty thousand volts of electricity arced across the rain-swept yard. The entire facility plunged into pitch-black darkness. The hum of the massive cooling towers died instantly.
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Across the compound, the heavy pneumatic hiss of magnetic locks releasing echoed through the night.
"Sarah, now!" I yelled, diving into the shadow of the ventilation shaft as the emergency generators coughed to life, emergency red strobes painting the facility in blood-red hues.
