Chapter 12: The Trail
The temperature dropped a few degrees the moment they crossed the threshold, like the building had its own climate. Their boots crunched over shattered glass and old tile. The flashlight beams didn’t illuminate so much as cut through the darkness of the rotunda.
The dome overhead was cracked open in places, draped with ivy. Pale daylight seeped in, washed thin by mist, and dust motes that hung motionless as if time were standing still.
At the center of the rotunda, the toppled skeletons still lay where time had left them, massive ribs splayed across the floor, vertebrae scattered. A jawbone rested at an angle that made it look mid-sentence. The scene had the careless violence of something knocked down.
Hector’s voice came out softer than usual. “Man… imagine being the guy who had to clean this place.”
Loni shot him a look that said, ‘ not now,’ then glanced at JJ. “Separate?”
JJ nodded. “Clockwise. Don’t be brave.”
Little Bear drifted left, feet light, eyes on the surrounding floor. Loni moved toward the right-hand corridor, past a faded sign that once guided visitors to Dining and Gift Shop. Hector hovered near JJ, a half-step behind, scanning the shadows above the balconies where vines formed thick curtains.
JJ moved down the center, listening. The building made small noises. A distant drip. A faint tick somewhere high in the rafters.
Little Bear crouched near the base of the grand staircase. He didn’t call out. He just raised two fingers, then tapped the tile.
JJ walked over. On the floor, in the dust and grit, there were fresh scuff marks. Two sets. One heavier, one lighter. They curved around the fallen bones.
Little Bear traced the path with the tip of a finger, then pointed toward the right wing.
“Two,” JJ whispered.
Little Bear nodded.
Hector leaned in, squinting. “How can you even tell?”
Little Bear didn’t look up. “The dust is disturbed. Edges are soft. Weight pattern’s human.” His finger moved again, following the track. “They walked fast.”
Loni’s voice drifted in from the corridor. “JJ.”
He turned. Loni stood in the doorway of a side room, half-hidden by vines that had pushed through broken window frames. She nodded toward the floor.
A disposable camera lay there, face down. The cheap plastic was scuffed. Nearby, a foam plate had been crushed into the tile, with a smear of dried sauce and a few ants stubbornly working it.
Loni nudged it with her boot, careful. “Might belong to them.”
Hector shook his head. “Crazy kids. What the hell were they thinking?”
JJ didn’t answer. He was looking past the doorway into the room itself.
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The space had once been a kind of cafe seating area, half-collapsed, chairs scattered, a counter in the back with old menu boards hanging at odd angles. Someone had dragged a chair against the entrance. The barrier wasn’t practical. It wouldn’t have stopped anything from getting in. It was the kind of thing frightened people did to feel less exposed. Something a pair of kids might do.
JJ stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Any blood?”
Loni shook her head. “Not here.”
A low scrape sounded somewhere above them, metal shifting, or wind catching something loose. Everyone froze for a beat. JJ watched the balcony until the motion stopped, then exhaled through his nose and motioned them forward.
“Keep moving,” he said, voice low.
They followed the trail through the right wing. The hallways here were narrower, the air wetter. Old safety posters clung to the walls in peeling strips. A faint, sweet rot lingered, fruit gone bad somewhere deep in the building, or something else.
Hector caught up beside him, voice barely there. “If the kids made it here, why didn’t they stay?”
JJ’s eyes stayed on the floor. “My guess, something made them leave.”
Little Bear slowed at a door marked Security. The letters were faded but readable. The door was ajar near a chair that had been recently moved, and the dust on it was disturbed.
Little Bear nodded at the room, his pump-action shotgun raised.
JJ nodded, then stepped in first. The security office was small and humid. Dust coated everything; a few objects had been moved recently. A clipboard lay open on the floor, pages blank and stuck together. A brochure, Jurassic Park branding still bright under the grime, had been flattened and folded with purpose.
On the wall, a bank of monitors sat dead, their glass screens filmed with mildew.
Loni scanned the desk. “They were here too.”
Hector pointed. “Look.”
On the desk surface, lightly carved were two letters:
C.
Then, beneath it, as if someone had continued and stopped.
T…
JJ’s eyes narrowed. CT? What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Little Bear drifted to the far side of the office and pointed at the floor, damp prints leading out again. Fresh enough to be distinct. Two sets. The lighter steps occasionally faltered, toes dragging once or twice like someone exhausted.
They led into the hallway. Down past the admin wing, where doors hung crooked, and office chairs had fused to the floor.
The corridor ended at a steel door marked Sublevel maintenance, Authorized personnel only. The stenciling was faded, but the warning stripe still showed through.
The door stood open. A thin wedge of cold air slid out, carrying the smell of wet stone and old metal.
Hector swallowed audibly behind them.
Loni tightened her grip on her bag strap. “That’s where they went.”
JJ stared at the door, then lifted his hand slowly, palm out. “Hold,” he whispered.
Little Bear’s gaze dropped to the threshold.
He crouched, touched the concrete just inside the door with two fingers, then looked up at JJ. “They went down.”
JJ’s eyes stayed on the darkness beyond the door. “Alright,” JJ said, voice low and steady. “We go down. Stay quiet, heads on a swivel.”
He pushed the door wider; the hinge gave a soft creak.
And from somewhere below, deep beyond the stairwell, something answered with a faint, rhythmic click, click, click.
