"Got here quite fast..." muttered Ada, but Robbie didn't hear. Instead, he almost ran to Steve. Ada followed only to the records room door, listening, but out of sight and thinking it might be better if he Steve never knew she was there.
"Hello! Uh..." began Robbie, but Steve talked over him.
"Get up to the security room! Restart the computer and wait five minutes. If the cameras don't come back then do it again. Rinse and repeat until you get them. Do nothing else. And call me the second the cameras do come back!"
"Okay, but..."
"Don't move from there either!"
"Wait!" cut in Robbie, "There was a scream... We have to check that out."
"I'll do it!" shot Steve.
"Okay, but the..."
"Time! It's running! Go!"
"Bu..."
"Go, go, go!"
Robbie mumbled something more, and then started at a fast walk to the stairs. Ada closed the records room door to a crack and killed the lights to watch from semi-darkness. She'd leave once Steve had left the hall. Thank God he hadn't even given Robbie a chance to tell him she was there. The rear door slammed again, and Ada peeked into the hall—it was empty.
It opened again a minute later, and Steve came into view. He was wet and wearing a sportscoat and jeans—shirt stained with brown sauce. In leather gloved hands he carried a suitcase, and a crowbar that dripped water from the curled end. He slipped into a door further down the hall, didn't shut the door.
A minute passed. He did not reappear. After two more Ada stepped into the hall—what was he doing there? Should she rush past? But he might come out at any minute. An intolerable minute went by and Ada risked it.
Paused before the door he'd slipped into to listen, and after hearing nothing at all, she crept past, peering into the crack. But the room was empty.
Not just of Steve—but of anything. Bookshelves sat bear, a table with no chairs tucked into the corner. But what made her gasp and then throw a wrist to her mouth to stifle was in the corner.
A long black crack in the wall.
Like a hatch—seven feet tall—standing an inch over everything else.
Another secret passage.
One of the others Steve had alluded too. A large book sat half-sticking out of it to prop it open.
Behind, the rear staff door slammed open again. Ada stopped and turned. Whoever it was took a step, a loud, stomping movement. The floorboards moaned from the weight, water splattered with the motion. Another followed, and then again.
"Hello?" said Ada.
Nothing but wind smashing in. Another step came—must've near the corner and Ada slipped into the empty room behind. Pulled the door shut, slapped the light switch for darkness, and pressed herself against the wood. Stared at the open passage—Steve would reappear soon—the thought reached into her chest to scratch at her lungs.
She had trapped herself.
"Why why, why didn't I retreat to the records room?"
Another giants step ended the thought—it came fast enough that she would've been in the hall still had she tried.
More brought it all the closer at an alarming speed, and it stopped before her door. An eerie blue shimmered under from the crack and sprayed across the floor to illuminate her shoes. It danced like flames.
Ada's hand flew to the knob to lock it—but there was no lock. A careful step took her back from the door. Right outside. A bang followed, something slamming into the door, like a body chuck, and it rattled the frame.
Ada's back hit the far wall next to the passage. A cool breeze brushed her face from it, before something smashed at the door again—her breathing was becoming disrupted, and before hyperventilation could take root, she hauled the secret passage open further, kicked the book aside, and went in. Slammed it behind herself.
Once bathed did she consider this may have been a mistake—even as another muffled bang at the door came through to her—she couldn't remain here.
The hidden way from the records room had more than one route, and thus likely more than one exit—so it still stood to hope this passage had more than one exit too. But she'd need light to find it. A hesitant thumb switched on her phone's light.
The blast of white-blue LED revealed a stone brick passage that went straight on for meters before bending to block her view. Another way forked off to the side closer to her. She made for this first turn with light steps.
A roaring crash came from behind—Ada turned with a start—the door in the room she'd fled exploded. Splinters and bits of wood clattered to the floor.
This was followed by another massive crashing step that shook the floor—more rubble skittering across hardwood with it. Soon it would be at the secret door.
Following came something that made whip around again in that narrow way and kill her phone's light—the small of her back became sweaty.
Steps were coming up from someplace at the far end of the passage. Uncareful feet negotiating stone stairs beyond the distant bend.
Steve.
Ada ducked into the nearer passage, moving fast and backward until her steps faltered and she fell into the darkness. Kept her mouth shut and flung out her arms against the wall to slow the fall enough to bend and land hard on her ass—skinning her elbows against brick—staring into darkness and ignoring the pain.
The steps at the far end of the other passage became louder, and then paused when a blue light illuminated that narrow stone hall. Rather like what shone out from under the door, dancing as flames do.
"W-who's there?" said Steve. Terrified.
Ada said nothing. Sat and stared as the steps began to move after the glowing blue light became brighter after a zipper. Something consumed by blue flame passed the narrow opening.
A head.
Or a skull rather, but not floating—Steve held it in an outstretched hand like a lantern, gripping something that protruded below. It might've been a metal wedge or a stake.
Steve eyes were locked forward on the secret door as he took careful steps—his body diagonal—the other hand held the small suitcase he'd brought. Around his neck was a medallion, perhaps bronze or gold—difficult to tell in the light—and it was etched with a strange figure and odd words.
He passed by without even glancing in her direction, and Ada began to crawl backward. After several feet the far secret passage door opened with a mechanical click—and Steve shouted.
"What the fuck!" the door slammed again. Steve, still in the passage murmured, "Oh shit! Shit! They said that couldn't happen..."
The glow of the blue began to glide backward, and Ada scrambled to her feet. Steve stopped in his tracks at the noise, murmured something. She began to run through darkness then, and Steve followed with a shout.
"Stop!"
Ada ignored this and kept running until the inevitable followed—Ada slammed into a wall—but it wasn't stone—it was wood. Another exit!
Her arm was screaming pain from the blow, her mind half-senseless, when a frantic hand began to feel for the switch. The records room door was opened by a flat button a few inches from the frame, and as Steve's light drifted down her veering passage—his appearance heralded by a flaming skull drifting through the darkness—her hands found the button.
The door clicked, it swung open two inches, but then stopped. Ada half choked and groaned before ramming it with her shoulder. It didn't budge. Something was blocking it. She tried again—the door didn't give.
Looked behind her, Steve had paused. Still holding the skull and suitcase, but the flaming blue couldn't be bright enough to reveal her face—yet. Only a closer through.
"Fuck!" she murmured hoarsely.
"Who the fucks there?" she could see Steve's face in the glow. Still, jaw firm and mouth open, dulled by alcohol. He looked terrified and frozen, but at the same time there was a rising menace born confidence that this obstacle was weak and easily dominated. This swelled behind the face.
"Made a mistake," Steve almost laughed, but it was hoarse and held down by caution, "Coming here..." his eyes were almost glassy.
"Did Brant send you? Or Lusk?"
The burning skull moved closer.
"Wrong night. Wrong security guard. You fucked up you miserable little bitch, and now I'm gonna fuck you up."
Ada wanted to scream back but slammed the stuck door again instead and felt it give—something wobbled and then tumbled over in the room ahead of her and shattered when the door flew wide. She leaped out of it quick and slammed it behind her.
She'd emerged into a darkened room full of statues and found it had been one such object that blocked the exit. It was splattered like a murder victim in light drifting through the door's clouded glass window.
Ada grabbed the doorknob and the secret passage clicked behind. She sprang through just as Steve thrust his head into the room and roared, "Fuck you!" when Ada slammed it shut.
Reached the halls lightswitch before Steve could follow her and slapped the lights off. Began to sprint for all her life after.
The glow of the same blue flames as the skull Steve had carried blasted out from the door to the empty room—the one smashed in by some force. Ada sprinted past—there sat a pile of rubble all over the floor, alight and burning high.
Steve's footfalls began to thunder in the hall behind her and kept she sprinting until she reached the East stairwell. Slammed the door shut behind her and then threw herself into the emergency fire exit adjacent. Almost tackled the door open she hit it so hard.
Burst out onto a gravel path along the museum's side when an alarm began to ring out, and with a huff of relief she all but threw herself into the bushes and down the slope of the hill.
She followed no path—tumbling and skidding among the trees. Feet slid and she fell in the mud halfway down, recovered as fast, and eventually found herself on the rain-wet sidewalk at the base of the hill. The ringing alarm blocked any smaller sounds of pursuit and she turned and sprinted home through streaking rain and empty streets.
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