It was an October afternoon. The students had been dismissed for a while. The wind was blowing, and the sun was slowly obscuring behind the school. The sky blue clouds, with warm lights bleeding through the cracks in between, and the eye of the sun gazing over everything below were picturesque in their appearance. The pearly-white buildings had become a muted cerulean with streaks of orange bleeding through the trees and under the benches. The deep shamrock green of the foliage contrasted greatly with the warmer highlights. It would've been admirable if it weren't such a liminal area.
Since curfew wouldn't happen for thirty minutes or so, most of the students stayed on campus. They were usually in the library, in the cafeteria, or some other nook of the plaza. They were most likely doing one of two things—working on their assignments left in the backburner or keeping them burning in the back. There was rarely an in-between.
In contrast, there weren't that many who remained in the garden. Those who were stayed by the gazebos, a ways away from the main road. There were only four people on that concrete promenade—and they had just gotten out of class. One had a camera set up with a tripod, and another was standing across from it holding a phone over their chest.
The person holding the phone rolled their eyes. "Are we doing another take, Keys?" they said, their foot tapping on the concrete below. "Can't you just edit that out?"
"I really can't," Keys responded, his head tilting away from the camera. "Editing can only get you far when you're stuck with software with a subscription service."
"Dude, I'm running out of time! It's almost five-thirty, and the power's bound to cut again."
"I would've let you go if we could've filmed at all in the last week. It's almost the deadline for this, anyway."
"Why can't we rush it?"
"You've taken so many remedials, Jonah, do you want to deal with another?" one of their groupmates blurted out. Both struggling filmmakers turned to him, sitting innocuously on a bench. He just stared back at them.
Jonah was about to say something, but they just groaned. "Shut up, Lejan..."
Keys and the others snickered, with his tired eyes staring at Jonah's annoyed grimace, as he readjusted himself. Lejan shuffled on the bench he was on. "I don't take requests."
Keys went ahead and inserted his phone on the tripod, struggling to keep the clamp up. As much as he didn't want to half-ass this, he didn't feel like putting in the effort. He was running on five hours of sleep and a few milliliters of caffeine, and he just wanted to pass out in his bed and sleep for two hours. It was too hard not to just press record and do whatever as Jonah read off from Reed's script. Keys found it weird that Reed didn't show up to the shoot, but that didn't feel very important.
He started recording and watched over Jonah as he read off of the script, not paying much attention to his delivery. That might mark them down a couple of points, but it's better than having a harsh red "zero" on their courseware, taunting him that he couldn't finish in time. God knows he'd seen enough of that already...
It was going surprisingly well, though. Was on track to be the best take so far. It was a low bar—no chance this'd be the best in Whitman—but Keys was happy that Jonah wasn't half-assing it as much as he believed he usually did.
Then his recording stopped. Before he knew it, he heard his ringtone.
Keys took his phone off of the tripod, much to the dismay of the rest of the group—and especially Jonah's. "Damnit..."
Jonah groaned. "What is it now?!" he whined, expression pinched. "We were making good progress, man! Turn that music down, too, it's loud!"
"I know, I know," Keys stammered, fully prepared to put the call down. "That's my ringtone, Jonah, I'm getting called, give me a moment..." He looked at who was calling. He fully expected it to be his parents or something. Nobody else really calls him anyway. But when he saw who it was, his eyes widened.
He picked up the phone. "Uh, this is a first. Hello?"
"Kes, thank god you picked up!" said the voice on the other end. It was shrill and high-pitched—familiar to Keys at that point, but contrary to what he expected, the voice sounded in distress. Hearing it made Keys' hair stand on end. This really was a first. "I need help, man. Immediately."
The beats of his heart began to quicken as he turned away from his groupmates—who, at that point, had begun to suspect something was up. Jonah raised their eyebrow. The breeze of the wind made them feel the cold sweat slowly building up. "What? What's going on, Cal? You're scaring me..." he stammered.
"Look, I'm sorry, but, just help me, okay?" Cal continued, repeatedly stumbling over their words.
"Uh, yeah, I can—I can do that. Where are you?"
"I—I'm in A409."
As soon as that word came out of their mouth, Keys' skin grew pallid. Keys couldn't help but blurt out a loud "What?!" that most likely grabbed the others' attention. Of all the places, why are they there?! How did they get there?! That place was closed off for a reason! "How did you even..."
"I'm sorry, I can't... I can't explain it right now. It's... just get over here, man, please..." Cal's voice lowered, but then it surged: "PLEASE JUST GET TO—"
And the call ends.
Keys froze. For a moment, he had become a statue blending into the concrete. In the mess that was the life of a student who loves cramming, having one of your friends stuck in a room under repair practically shut off his brain. His eyes kept darting around the garden, and yet they couldn't register a thing. That place had been locked shut for weeks now...
"Dude, are you okay?"
Immediately, Keys snapped out of his trance, stammering out nonsense as he's thrust back into his surroundings. His mind had become a cluttered, unorganized mess, and he couldn't piece together anything sensible. He took a breath, rapidly shaking his head and washing down the stress from his face. "Oh, uh, yeah, I'm... I'm fine, I'm fine."
"You sure?" asked one of his other groupmates. "You're hyperventilating, dude."
"Shut up, I'm not hyperventilating," Keys said, trying to catch some air. He dropped his head down.
Jonah approached him "What's going on with Cal? I heard you say her name."
Keys stumbled over his words. "I... she sounded panicked, man. And she said she was in A409, so like, I—I don't—"
Before he could continue, the entire group gasped. Jonah—almost instinctively—pushed Keys on the shoulder. "Sorry," he said, "but A409?! Are you kidding me?" asked Jonah. "She would never! She can't, right? The place is closed!"
"I know, but like—god, she sounds so stressed and all of that, and I didn't want to just play that off as a joke—and I know as much as you do about why she's even up there! She just..." Keys derailed that train of thought, sighing. His eyes wandered towards the plaza.
"Look, okay, I—I need to get over there before something happens—so I'm gonna go check on there, like right now," Keys said, eyes focusing back on his immediate surroundings. "You guys can record without me, I've already done my part anyway, and Cy has a good camera—"
"Hold on, slow down," Jonah said, stopping Keys dead in his tracks. "Couldn't you just ask Reed to help her? Those two are pretty close, aren't they?"
He sighed. "I would if I knew where he was, Jonathan. He probably left, he didn't even show up to the meeting," Keys said, taking his tripod and putting it aside with his backpack. He could feel his hands shivering as he gripped the tripod's legs. "Plus, they're already going through a lot, I'm not worsening that for them."
The others were fully ready to question him, but he interjected before anyone could, saying, "Watch over my stuff for me, thank you," to Jonah before running off without a second thought. The others watched Keys rush to the plaza, still left with unanswered questions that—god, knowing the school, wouldn't be answered.
Jonah stared daggers at Keys, who by that point had gotten pretty far away. "My full-ass name? Really?"
Keys was rushing, that was certain. It wasn't quite a marathon, but he sure as hell felt like it was. Calling Reed was an option, but he was sure at that point that he'd already left. The wind flew past him, pushing against his head and shooting adrenaline through his veins. Each step he took felt like one big leap to another. He had no reason to run so fast, but his heart told him that this was the speed he needed to go, and who was he to go against it?
It would be a lie to say that anything Keys did to this point had enough thought put into it. Much of what he'd done, he knew, seemed pointless and unnecessary. The situation is too bizarre for them to just casually ignore, though, especially since Cal sounded so... desperate. This was out of her control, and she asked for his help instead of the rest of her more capable friends. Why him specifically?
He took a sharp breath. He'll try to help anyway, even if it terrifies him.
He had a plan set up in his head. It wasn't a concrete plan—hell, it could barely stand on its own—but it was a plan sturdy enough for them to run with, even if it was barely more durable than glass (sounded kind of like the school, to be honest). They had a goal—to get to Cal—and they had a path—take the elevator up. It didn't sound great, but he desperately needed something that could resemble direction after receiving something so vague and confusing.
The call barely cracked 30 seconds, but it was enough to make him worry about Cal and dread what he'll find when he gets there. Everything that he knew didn't make any sense to him, and there wasn't even much. Her fear and horror were atypical of what Keys had always known about Cal—her sheer stoicism and deadpan attitude were what drew him in in the first place, so hearing her distress felt unusual. Scary.
He would think deeper into it, but it would slow him down and wreck their psyche more than it somehow already has. He just had to run.
And so he did. He ran through the glass doors and stepped into the elevator lobby. The brightness of the lobby's interior and the sudden shift in temperature struck him like a hammer to the temples. Keys was fully prepared to step inside—he had the plan set, after all—but that pipe dream immediately fell apart as soon as he bumped into a sign in front of the elevator. "ELEVATOR IS UNDER MAINTENANCE. SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE", it said in bold letters. He stared at it, frozen in place. Are you kidding me?
Though annoyed, he pressed on, walking up the stairs. Much more time-consuming than he'd wanted, but walking four or more flights in a school wasn't new to him. His feelings were heightened by the dim lighting and warmer temperatures. The building couldn't seem to get proper heat regulation, for some reason. It was oddly dreary, even though he'd walked up here often. Whether it be the time of day or the reason why he was even going, he wasn't sure. There was just something off about the stairs.
Walking up the stairs, feeling himself grow worn out, reminded him of how tiring it was. At least he wasn't lugging around a heavy backpack like he'd normally done, but it still wasn't a simple stroll. His legs were starting to strain, and beads of sweat started to trickle down his skin. He would stop and take a break, but slowing down would most likely put Cal in more danger. There was no need for more roadblocks, especially none that he put down in the ground.
He started losing awareness of his surroundings as he walked up. Not an awful lot of obliviousness, but enough for him to feel the world blur around him. It wasn't bad enough for him to worry about, at least.
That is, until he bumped into someone on the stairs.
Keys kept running—they assumed it would've been a random person who'd forget about him after a few minutes, since at this rate nothing would've stopped him. Almost nothing, anyway. Then they spoke. "Jesus, Kessie, slow down!"
He bumped into Reed. Keys immediately froze in his tracks. So much for avoiding roadblocks. He turned to face them, trying his best to regain some composure—wiping his forehead, straightening his back, and generally trying to stabilize himself, or at least look stable. He managed to get out a short "Oh, hey," but the shakiness of his tone spoke for him. "I thought you left."
Reed looked at him, squinting. "I've been here, man. Where were you?" they said, scanning Keys like they were looking for a barcode. They smiled, but Keys could tell the smile stems from concern. "You look like hell, man. Are you good?"
"Uhm... mhm, I guess," Keys said, barely even paying attention to what they were saying. He taps his foot on the floor, struggling to keep his eyes off the next flight of stairs. His breath grows faster by the minute. "Look, sorry, man, but I really need to get somewhere—"
Reed chuckled, trying to calm the energy. "No no, tell me what's going on."
"What else is there to say? I'm stressed."
They nodded, "Yeah, but why?"
Keys paused for a moment. He wasn't entirely sure if he should drop that bombshell or let Reed leave unaware. Either way, it'd hurt them somehow, but... he shouldn't just do this alone, he knows that much. Plus, they weren't entirely sure if hiding it even was a good idea. He stammered... "It's... it's Cal. She called me earlier."
As soon as he dropped that on Reed, their demeanor immediately switched. The smile dropped as they leaned closer to Keys. "What? Cal? What's going on with her?" they asked, their look of concern swapping for worry in the blink of an eye. "Is she in trouble?"
Keys hesitated to say, but there'd be no point hiding it now. "Yeah, man."
Reed's eyes widened. "What? What happened?!"
"I don't even know for sure! She just called me saying she was in trouble and that she was in—"
He caught his words right before they slipped out. He just stared blankly, mouth still opened as if he were to say it, as Reed's attention remained hooked. He wasn't sure why he hesitated—it's a necessary piece of information, after all—but Reed had so much on their shoulders already, this would only worsen it.
"She was where, Keys?" Reed asked, their hands shivering.
"She's..." He still couldn't get it out. It was forcing itself away. He kept glancing to the staircase, then to Reed, then the staircase... rinse and repeat. "She's... she's in..." he continued, still stammering. He needed to go, but he didn't want to just leave Reed alone with the fear of Cal being in danger.
He didn't even need to say anything, though, before Reed froze. "No, don't tell me..."
Keys was confused, but only for a moment. He put two and two together, and now there wasn't any hiding it. "I was gonna go to her, so—"
Reed dashed past Keys before he could even finish. Keys chased after Reed, reaching out to tug at their uniform, jacket, or literally anything that could stop him. "Hey, wait—!" he yelped, hands flailing in the air, attempting to catch anything. Eventually, he grabs a part of Reed's jacket, stopping them, though only for a moment.
"What?! She's in trouble, Kessie, and she's in A409!" Reed yelled, too loud for comfort, no matter how fair a reaction it was. "I'm not letting another person go missing, much less not a fucking classmate! You know this school as well as I do!"
"Let me do it, Reed, please, I don't want you to get even more stressed—"
"I'd rather do it myself, Kessie!" they retorted, trying to shove Keys off their jacket, though the only response that got them was a tighter grip. "Get off me! Let me do this! Let me stop history from repeating, please!"
Keys stood on the same step they were on. "I understand why you want to do this alone, but that's just gonna end up worse for both of us." He stared dead at Reed's exhausted, lifeless eyes. They were panting. "What if you'd be next? We don't know what's going on up there."
Reed kept staring, an appalled grimace on their face. "Either I'm doing it, or I'm coming with you," Keys continued. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
"Why do you wanna do it yourself if I don't want you here?" Reed asked.
"...just pick one."
After a long moment of silence between the friends, Reed walked down the stairs, taking their phone out. "I'm calling her," they murmured. "I won't be saving you." Then they disappeared from his sight.
Keys sighed. He tried denying it, but he did feel bad for reacting that way. He got why they wanted to do it themselves so badly—most likely, it was the same reason he had—and he really should've just let him go. It's too late now, though, and doing it alone had always been part of his... 'plan'.
It still wasn't a plan. It was a hodge-podge of ideas that he'd hoped would work out together. Most of what he'd been doing up to this point was him being dragged along by instinct—it was more of common sense than a 'plan.' If there was one, it was flimsy weak, and was probably made on impulse. In reality, he just had his wits, and he barely even had that.
Eventually, he stepped onto the fourth floor. It wasn't a long walk, but it felt like so much more than it was. He would've kept going immediately, but as soon as he went past the last step, he noticed something off about the hallway—and just the floor in general.
He looked around. Everything looked normal enough—blinds were down, chairs and tables were everywhere, electronics seemed to work, and the air was as frigid as he expected—but there was nobody on the floor as far as he could see. He felt himself slowly begin to get a cold sweat as he kept looking.
Keys immediately ran to one of the auditoriums. He looked through one of the windows, hoping to see someone, but he would be left empty-handed. The auditorium was devoid of anyone. Chairs and tables were set up, but there was no sign of anyone ever using them. Not even any bags, or water tumblers, or any of that. It was barren. He checked another auditorium. Still nothing. Then another. Nothing. Checked one of the other rooms—one he'd never even been inside—and there was still nothing.
It felt like he was separated from the rest of the school. The fact that the floor was completely quiet didn't help. The only sound was the hum of the air conditioner. He couldn't even hear the crowd downstairs; everything had just gone... silent. The further he went, the more he got anxious. He would've left, but he was here for a reason, and he wasn't going to abandon her just because he was a little afraid.
So he kept going. His footsteps reverberated around the hallway, feeling much larger than they ever had been. The floor had always been a non-place to them, but it felt so much emptier and unsettling now that he truly was alone up here. It felt like he was walking through an abandoned building.
Eventually, he reached A409. Barricades stood between him and the doors, which had both been left slightly ajar, revealing the dark interior. There was caution tape around the doorframe, but it looked like it was torn apart. There were signs of life, but these weren't exactly signs of Cal...
"Cal?" he yelled, calling out into the darkness. His voice echoed around the floor—it was so quiet up there, that he flinched hearing his voice. He waited for a response from the shadows, but there was nothing. He asked again. "Cal?"
No response.
Each time he called out and got nothing, the hole in his stomach opened wider. His hands were quivering, his head felt weightless, and his mind couldn't help but wonder about... everything about this floor. Was he still in the school? It'd make sense if he was, but so much is telling him otherwise. He knew the school had paranormal activity, but he expected ghosts and stuff. Not... this.
He pushed the barricade aside, stepping into the pitch-black auditorium. He felt the frigid air fade as soon as he went past the tape-riddled frame, with the ambient hum of the air conditioner disappearing just as fast. There was practically nothing left with him outside of the view of the outside. He scrambled for his phone—he struggled since he had already gone into the abyss—but eventually, he got it out.
The signal was just as high. The connection had been cut off. The time was 5:42. He opened the dropdown menu, but before he turned on the flashlight, he was once again called by Cal.
The sudden loud ringtone made him flinch, dropping his phone onto the carpeted floor. It was a miracle the phone landed on a soft surface, and a relief that Cal was still in a state where she could call—but there was something strange about the call. He would've heard Cal's phone ringing somewhere, at least...
Regardless, he swiped and picked up the phone, which was shaking in his hands. "Cal?!"
"Kestrel, where are you?" Cal asked. They sounded composed. Far more composed than earlier. "What the hell is going on?"
"I was gonna ask you the same thing!" Keys said, voice quivering just as erratically as every other part of his body. He looked around the pitch-black, encroaching darkness as if that would've helped. "I'm at A409, where are you?"
"Dude? Get the hell out of there!" Cal yelled, her perpetual dryness disconcerting Keys. "Why the hell are you in A409?"
Keys stared blankly, both he and the gears in his head freezing in place. "What do you mean by why? You called me to get you from here!"
The silence was deafening as Cal paused. "Kestrel, what are you talking about? I never called you."
"What?"
Keys felt the pit in his stomach growing into the maw of a cavern. His psyche had been crumbling this entire time, but... this shattered it to pieces. Was this even a real conversation? Everything about his situation felt dream-like to him, and it didn't help that he was blinded, with darkness somehow still festering around his vision.
"Kestrel, I don't know what is going on. I don't want to know. But you need to get out of there. I left thirty minutes ago, dude. I have no idea who the hell called you, but it wasn't me. Get out. Now."
Keys froze in place. Nothing about this made any sense, and it had practically shut his mind down. And judging by the light emanating from the door slowly weakening, it wouldn't be long before the power did. He dropped his phone on the floor again as questions overpowered any other rational thought.
A409 was cursed. He would be proof of that.
Before he could even get a step towards the exit, the lights cut. He heard shuffling from outside as he is left in complete, overpowering darkness. He felt his heartbeat growing faster and faster. He felt the atmosphere grow frigid. This wasn't happening.
He slowly turned to where the door once was. Ran towards it, but it wasn't even locked—it was gone. He was stuck in a deep, dark, impossibly large void, with the only sort of illumination coming from the gaps in the blinds letting in a soft, blue light. It would've been relieving.
But it had been obscured by a silhouette. It looked like a person—like Cal—but it wasn't.
The last thing Keys would hear would be its voice.
"I found you."