𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙

Digital Graveyard

The room was deathly quiet, save for the faint hum of an aging computer struggling under the weight of time and disrepair. A thin layer of dust coated the table where it sat, its screen flickering dimly as if it, too, were unsure if it could handle what was about to happen.

The group — once kids in a world of classrooms and late night calls — now huddled around it like survivors in an apocalyptic wasteland, which they were.

The faint hum of the old computer was the only sound in the room. The air inside felt thick and oppressive, like it had absorbed the weight of their unspoken fears and carried it, hanging in the space between them.

The apartment had been their refuge for days, but tonight it felt smaller, colder. A single, naked bulb flickered in the corner, casting long, jittery shadows against the walls, giving the whole place a strange, half-lit glow. The atmosphere felt heavy, like the world was holding its breath.

Nathan leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed, eyes narrowed in thought. His chest tightened as he stared at the small USB drive in Julian's hand.

Something about that tiny, battered piece of tech felt wrong—like it held the key to something they weren't supposed to see. Something too big, too dangerous. But they'd come too far to turn back now.

He stood a little apart from the others, his gaze fixed on the flickering screen in front of them. The dust-covered monitor cast a pale light over Julian's tense face as he hesitated, fingers hovering just above the keyboard.

In Julian's other hand, the small, scuffed USB drive was held between his fingers like it was something fragile, something more than just a piece of tech. And maybe it was. To them, it felt like it contained all the answers they'd been grasping for since the world had fallen apart.

"It's been days since the raid," Julian muttered, breaking the silence. His voice sounded distant, even to himself. "And we still don't know anything about what's really happening out there. This might be our only shot."

Nathan exhaled slowly, pushing the air through his nose, the sound barely audible. His chest felt tight, as though every breath he took had to fight its way through the tension in the room. "Then we don't have a choice," he said, his voice low and even. "We have to see what's on that drive."

Emma shifted beside him, her arms wrapped around herself as though she was trying to ward off the cold. But it wasn't cold. Not really. It was the middle of October. If this whole blood moon thing didn't happen, it'd be a wonderful day to take a walk or something.

It was the kind of chill that settled deep, something more felt than seen, a lingering presence that had been with them ever since the blood moon first rose. She stared at the USB, her lips pressed together in a hard line. "What if it's something we can't handle?" she whispered.

Nathan glanced at her, his face unreadable. "Then we deal with it. Like we always do."
Julian sat in front of the old laptop, brow furrowed. "This thing is barely running as it is," he muttered, glancing at Nathan. "Are we sure we want to risk it?"

Nathan unfolded his arms, taking a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "We don't have much choice, do we?" His voice was steady, but there was a crack in it, as though the weight of the decision was pressing down harder than he let on. "If there's something on that drive... something we need to know... then we have to find out. Even if it's not good."

Emma, standing beside Nathan, shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes were glued to the flickering screen, lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't like this. What if it's a trap? A virus, or worse?"

Nathan glanced at her. "We'll be careful. But we need answers. It's been weeks since the raid, and we're flying blind. This could tell us everything we need to know."

Julian hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "If it crashes this thing, we're out of options."

"It won't crash," Nathan replied, more to reassure himself than anyone else. The room fell silent again as Julian inserted the USB into the laptop. For a moment, nothing happened.

The old machine whirred loudly, struggling against its own age, its fan working overtime to process the flood of data that had just been introduced.