Room B104

“You are never going to believe what I found.”

The door slammed open, smacking the old filing cabinet and sending a precarious stack of folders flying like startled birds. Nathan strode in, oblivious, face flushed with triumph, a battered folder clutched in his hands.

“Took a hell of a lot of digging, and their filing system’s like trying to decode hieroglyphics, but I found it.”

“You do realise,” June said without looking up, “that you could’ve just asked one of the librarians? That’s literally their job.”

“I did ask. She stared at me like I’d asked where they were keeping the bodies.”

“To be fair,” Alex murmured, glancing up from the spread of yellowing yearbook pages and scribbled notes, “you kind of were.”

He pushed his glasses up his nose and tapped a clipping with a pen. “We’ve broken into school again, in the middle of the summer holidays, to solve a thirty-year-old mystery involving missing students and, quite possibly, homicidal teachers. I imagine the staff would have some thoughts.”

Alex glanced past Nathan and into the hallway, a shiver crawling across his shoulders. The corridor stretched away in windowless darkness, dense with shadow. With the main power shut off for the summer, the place felt less like a school and more like one of those ghostly abandoned buildings people like to explore. It felt foreboding, each shape warping at the edge of his vision, as though the darkness breathed.

He’d always hated being here during the break. While the rest of the student body was sprawled on beaches or backpacking through Europe, he was stuck inside a silent building chasing answers. Voluntarily. But the truth, he reminded himself, didn’t come with suntan lotion and lazy mornings. It had a cost.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat. “What exactly did you find? You’re practically vibrating, so I’m assuming it’s good.”

Nathan grinned, already moving toward the table. “Good? Oh, it’s better than good. I found the school’s floor plans. Original ones. Pre-1990s.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “And that’s important… because?”

Nathan waved him over. “I didn’t think much of it either. Not at first. But I kept thinking about that yearbook photo—the one with the weird classroom number we couldn’t place? This makes sense of it. It’s easier if I just show you.”

Nathan led the way to the far side of the room, where a battered table served as their makeshift headquarters. June and Alex trailed behind, the hush of the empty classroom pressing in around them. Together, they spread out the sheet of brittle blue paper across the surface—its corners curling, its ink faded like something unearthed from a time capsule.

“Well, it’s definitely the school,” June said, squinting at the spidery lines. “But what exactly are we meant to be seeing here? This place is a maze. I got lost my entire first term, and that was with signs. Unless you want me to go cross-eyed trying to trace it, just point.”

“Gladly,” Nathan replied, already fishing a folded pamphlet from his pocket—the new student map, glossy and creased from overuse. “Took me ages to line them up. The whole room numbering system changed sometime in the early 2000s, but I found a match.”

He laid the smaller map over the blueprint, aligning them in the bottom right corner. His finger tapped a faded room label, then slid to the corresponding spot on the newer version.

“Right here. See?”

Alex leaned in. “Hang on… That doesn’t—” He looked again. “That room doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Exactly,” Nathan said, grinning.

Alex exhaled sharply. “Well, fuck me. You actually did find something.”

Nathan smirked. “Always with the surprise in your voice.”

“Forgive me for doubting you,” Alex said, holding up his hands. “After that false alarm with the blueprint by the principal’s office last week, I figured we were chasing shadows.”

June crossed her arms, her tone brisk. “Well, now we’re not. This is what we’ve been looking for, right?” She reached for her bag. “Let’s grab the torches. If there’s a missing room in this building, I want eyes on it before someone finds us poking around.”

******

“Well, this is where it should be,” Alex murmured, eyes flicking between the map in his hands and the scuffed tiles beneath his feet. He tapped the marked spot with a finger. “Right here.”

“I’m not seeing anything,” June said, sweeping her torch across the hallway. The beam bounced off peeling paint and the battered doors of a bank of floor-to-ceiling locker units, pushed against the wall like a barricade.

“Wouldn’t be much of a secret room if it had a neon sign, would it?” Nathan pointed out as he strode forward and seized one edge. The screech of metal dragging across linoleum sliced through the silence like a knife. All three of them flinched.

“What part of ‘we’re not supposed to be here’ escaped you?” June hissed. “Maybe hit the fire alarm while you're at it?”

Nathan didn’t flinch. “I’m done sneaking. We’ve been crawling around this place like cockroaches all summer, and we’re finally getting close. What’s the worst that can happen? Bell shakes his rake at us?”

June raised an eyebrow. “He’s still a member of staff.”

“He’s a spectre with keys. I’ve seen him five times, always around that shed of his, looking like he’s waiting to be buried with it. He’s spotted us. More than once. Said nothing.”

Alex nodded. “Nathan’s right, Bell’s had ample opportunity to stop us and hasn’t. If we’re right, then the door should be behind this thing. So, we move it.”

He joined Nathan, and together, they began clearing the blockade.

Ten minutes later, breathless and dust-streaked, they stepped back in unison.

“Well,” Nathan breathed, eyes wide. “It exists. A secret bloody door.”

“Hidden bloody door,” June corrected quietly, stepping forward. Her torch beam skimmed the metal frame. “I’ve never seen a door like this in the school. The others are wood. This is industrial. And look… It’s welded shut.”

Alex moved up beside her and tugged at the handle. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t budge.

“Well, that complicates things.”

“Could always ask Bell for help,” Nathan offered, half-serious.

June turned on him. “You want to ask the one person paid to keep us out of here to help us break into a room that’s been sealed like a Cold War bunker?”

“I’m not saying he’ll throw us the key, but think about it. The guy’s pushing ninety, right? According to every rumour I’ve heard, he’s lived and worked on these grounds since dinosaurs roamed. If anyone knows what’s behind this door, it’s him.”

Alex nodded slowly. “He might have sealed it himself.”

June gave a bitter little laugh. “Comforting. Let’s ask the guy who might’ve helped cover up the deaths of three students to tell us where the bodies are buried.”

Alex tilted his head. “Do you have a better plan?”

“Well, no… but…”

“Then let’s be rational,” Nathan said. “If he is a murderer, odds are good we can outrun him. He’s basically a mobile fossil.”

“And if he tells us to leave?” June asked.

“Then we leave,” Nathan said with a grin, “and sneak back in through the kitchen window. Just like before.”

June crossed her arms. “I still think this is a bad idea.”

“So do I,” Alex said. “Which probably means it’s the right one.”

******

Alex rapped once on the frame and eased the shed door open.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of rust and oil. Bell was at the back, hunched over a bench, sorting tools into two battered wheelbarrows. He didn’t look up.

“I thought I’d seen the last of you three,” he said, voice flat as a spade’s edge. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“We want to ask you a question,” Alex said.

“No,” Bell replied, letting a wrench fall into the left barrow with a heavy clank. “You really don’t.”

Alex cleared his throat. “It’s about Room B104.”

Bell froze, just for a beat, then reached for a pair of shears.

“There is no Room B104.”

Alex stepped closer. “The old blueprints we found say otherwise. So does the welded door, hidden behind junk in the east wing.”

Bell still didn’t look at them. “There’s nothing behind that door that concerns you. What’s there… It’s better off left alone. Room got sealed for a reason.”

“And what reason was that?” June asked, folding her arms.

At that, Bell finally turned. His eyes were sunken, dark-rimmed hollows that made him look drowned in misery. Like a man who’d spent decades staring at something he wished he hadn’t.
“A mistake,” he said, the word sounding heavy. “That’s what happened. Things that shouldn’t have been possible. Things that bent the rules. We try to forget—some of us more than others.” He looked at them properly then, his gaze flicking over each of their faces like he was counting shadows. “Nothing good waits in that room. The best thing you can do is move on. You won’t like what you find.”

“Was it an accident?” Alex pressed.

Bell’s jaw tightened. “Please… just walk away.”

“We can’t do that,” June said sharply. “We’ve been digging into this for years. We know the room was sealed. We know you were here when it happened.”

“You don’t know anything,” Bell growled, his temper starting to rise.

Nathan stepped forward. “We just want your help to get in.”

Bell moved with startling speed, shoulders squaring, voice snapping like a thunderclap.

“No! Now get out of my shed.” He jabbed the shears toward the door, not quite a threat, more like a warning from someone who had nothing left to lose. His arm trembled as he held them aloft, the shake unmistakable.

Still, Alex felt it land, sharp and solid, like a punch to the ribs.

They didn’t argue. Just backed out slowly, one by one.

The moment Alex’s foot met the gravel outside, the shed door slammed shut behind them.

“Well,” Nathan muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “that went well.”

Alex frowned, eyes still on the shed. “Did anyone else get the feeling he knows more than he’s letting on?”

June scoffed. “What gave it away? The part where he practically chased us out with garden shears? Or the bit where he said he’d ‘seen the last of us’—like we’re recurring nightmares, instead of students?”

“That line stuck with me, too,” Alex admitted.

They stood in silence for a beat, the shed looming behind them.

“Okay,” Alex finally continued. “If he won’t help us, how do we get in?”

“We could always use acid?” Nathan offered, as if suggesting a trip to the corner shop.

June turned to him, expression flat. “Acid?”

He nodded. “Mr Fletcher keeps the cabinet stocked with nitric and hydrochloric—the good stuff and I know where he hides the spare key to the chem lab. He did a demo last semester. Melted through a penny like it was sugar.”

“That sounds incredibly dangerous,” June said.

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “We just tried to interrogate a man who could have been involved in a decades-old murder. What’s a little light chemical warfare in comparison? Anyway, I know what I’m doing. I’m ace at chemistry.”

Alex sighed. “It’s the best option we’ve got. Nathan, go get the gear. June and I will finish clearing the hallway.”

“And grab some PPE while you're at it,” June called after him. “You know, in case we decide not to dissolve our faces tonight.”

******

“Are we sure this is going to work?” June asked, stepping back and adjusting her goggles with the kind of wariness usually reserved for unexploded bombs.

“We’re pouring a cocktail of acids onto welded steel,” Nathan replied, unscrewing the cap with care. “What could possibly go wrong?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s not a no, either,” he said, already crouching beside the seam. “Look, we’re not trying to melt the whole door, just the welds. A little here…” He dribbled a few drops onto the top weld. “And a bit more down there.”

June took another half-step back.

“How fast is this meant to work?”

“Well, Fletcher’s penny vanished in under thirty seconds,” Nathan said. “This might take longer. Or it might not work at all. We’ll see.”

No one spoke as the acid hissed softly against the welds. The sound was delicate, almost respectful, like steam slipping from a pressure valve.

Then, with a sharp crack and a low, reluctant groan, the door creaked open an inch.

“Well,” Nathan said, eyebrows raised. “That worked better than I expected. Who’d have thought paying attention in science might actually save our necks?”

“It’s moving on its own,” June murmured, eyes locked on the widening gap.

“Acid must’ve eaten through the latch too,” Alex offered, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

And then the smell hit.

It rolled out in waves, chemical, cloying, and disturbingly sweet. Like bleach poured over rotting fruit.

“Well, that’s not pleasant,” Nathan muttered, adjusting his mask with a grimace.

“At least it doesn’t smell like death,” Alex offered.

June tilted her head. “No, more like someone tried to erase death… and didn’t quite finish the job.”

Alex gave a nervous chuckle, though it sounded more like a reflex than genuine amusement. He stepped forward, pushing the door with one gloved hand.

The air changed as they crossed the threshold. Subtle at first, like pressure shifting. Then it deepened, like stepping into a memory that hadn’t been fully forgotten. Or maybe one that had been suppressed. At first glance, it was just another science lab; outdated, sure, but familiar in its bones. The workbenches were scuffed from decades of use; the cupboards were lined with the kind of forgotten equipment every student pretended to understand. A few Bunsen burners sat cold on the countertops.

But then the strangeness started to settle in.

Chairs were toppled, not scattered but abandoned, as if their occupants had stood up fast and hadn’t returned. The floor, once white, wore a patina of time.

And then there were the stains. Dark, rust-red patches soaked into the tile near the central bench.

Alex took a slow step forward. His torch beam danced over shattered glass, something had gone wrong here and gone wrong very quickly.

Then the light changed.

Not a flicker. A shift. Like someone had spliced a reel of film into the air, threading it through a projector that didn’t exist. The fluorescents blinked on overhead. Chairs scraped across the floor and righted themselves without touch. Broken glass reassembled. Beakers reformed. The dust cleared, pulled back into corners as if it had never even been there.

Then, suddenly, the lab was no longer empty.

Three figures faded into view, blurry, translucent, and drained of colour, like fog given shape. They sat at the central workbench, heads bent in silent concentration. The burners glowed with a steady flame. Liquids shimmered in vials. Open manuals sat between careful hands.

It was a classroom again. Functioning and alive.

“I’m not the only one seeing this, right?” Alex asked quietly, his voice barely above the static hum in the air.

“Not unless we’ve all gone mad together,” June replied, her eyes locked on the scene. “What is this?”

Before anyone could answer, one of the figures lifted a vial and tilted it gently into a flask.

The reaction was instant.

A rush of yellow smoke exploded from the beaker.

The figures scrambled into motion. One reached for the gas valve. Another stumbled, knocking glass to the floor. Chairs clattered. Glass shattered again.

And then, stillness.

All three figures collapsed. Alex noted they were not wearing any safety gear. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Their outlines, though blurred, twisted in angles that felt final. A hand twitched once. Then nothing. The smoke thinned, revealing thick red stains unfurling beneath the bodies, slow and spreading, like ink in water.

“Are they…” June’s voice was barely there. “Are they dead?”

Suddenly, three new figures stood in the room. The taller of them spoke, his voice echoing strangely. “How did they get in? It’s the summer holidays for Christ’s sake, they shouldn’t have been here. Did you leave something unsecured? Christ, we’re finished if this gets out!’

Another man wept quietly, a hand pressed to his mouth in horror.

“That’s Bell,” Alex said. “He looks… thirty years younger.”

They all stared. Alex thought he recognised the other two men but couldn’t put his finger on who they were. Time suddenly moved on, the light filtering through the high windows more muted.

Two men moved with a panicked energy. Bell didn’t. He just observed, appearing detached, or… maybe resigned. The scene shifted yet again, this time revealing three distinctly human-shaped forms laid out on the site trolley Bell used for moving heavy gear, half hidden beneath a heavy black tarp. On another trolley stood a number of large containers. Nitric Acid and Hydrochloric Acid. The good stuff …

Near the doorway, Bell stood, a gas canister strapped to his hip and welding torch in hand. The other men hovered nearby; one lifted the tarp and stared down with hollow eyes.

June was the first to notice, her breath catching.

Then, Nathan, his eyes landing on a pale face no longer blurred. His trademark grin was absent.

Finally, Alex saw ... himself. No blur. No ghostly shimmer. Just his own face, slack and silent beneath the dim light. His stomach dropped, but there was no breath to lose as he stood there, staring down into his own dead eyes. Only realisation and despair.

A soft voice spoke from behind, breaking the spell and bringing them back to the present.

Alex turned to find the room dark, Bell now standing in the open doorway, appearing older this time.

“I said you wouldn’t like what you found.”

The torch flared to life in his hand.

“And for what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

Then, blackness took them as he pulled the door closed.