In front of one of the taller buildings is a long line of students, each with a piece of paper in their hands. Wondering if I should be in line with everyone else, I tap the shoulder of a guy in line. When he looks up from his phone, I ask him what the line is for. He informs me that it is the line to register for classes and change schedules. I thank the guy for the information and continue forward, glad that I registered online as soon as I got my acceptance letter.
As I walk with the crowd of people, I see a variety of buildings, each with a name in big block letters on their sides. There’s the five-story library with an entire side made from glass. Of course, there’s a coffee bar next to it. Across from that are a series of one-story buildings with fast food shops and a two-story student store. Next to that is the student recreation center. There are some cute girls going in and out and I make a mental to check that place out later. As I continue to walk around, I realize that I really have no idea where I’m going. I stop and take off my backpack, crinkling my nose at the strong smell of coffee that still wafts from it. I open it, only to find that the coffee seeped through the backpack into my binder. An involuntary groan escapes my lips when I open the binder to see that all the papers have soaked up the brown liquid, even my class schedule and the map of the school I’d printed out. I rotate the papers, trying to see if I can make anything out. I can see where the Anthropology class is listed and the time it starts. Next to that are abbreviated letters and numbers for the building and classroom it’s located in. Unfortunately, those I can’t quite make out. I think it says SMD 136. I don’t know what the hell SMD stands for though.
While I stand there, holding a brown stained piece of paper, I briefly consider asking the group of pretty girls nearby for directions. Then in a head slapping moment of inspiration, it finally occurs to me to check the internet. I’m sure this college has some app or online map I can use to find this class. I put my hand into my jeans pocket and cringe when it touches something sticky.
No. No. No. Please don’t let have happened what I think happened.
My hopes are dashed as I pull my hand out of my pocket and see my phone covered in a layer of dried, sticky, brown film. I tap the screen and for a moment it boots up like normal. Then just as quickly, there’s a spark from the back of the phone case and a thin stream of smoke rises as the screen flickers and dies. Tapping the phone screen a few more times proves a futile effort.
My pulse starts to race, and I have to take a few deep breaths to keep from flipping out. In high school, I’d started to work at a local convenience store to help with the family bills and get a little money for myself. It took me months just to scrape together the money to buy this stupid five-year-old smartphone. Sure, I had to prepay the phone time and internet on it, but with Wi-Fi everywhere now, it wasn’t that bad of an expense. Plus, I used it all the time to research stuff for my high school classes. Ok, so I also used it to download fan subbed anime and pirated movies. Ok, that and some other stuff for which the internet is known. But now, that’s all over. My phone has finally gone to the digital domain in the sky.
I put the sticky phone back in my pocket and hope I can salvage some parts or fix it when I get home. I look up at the group of girls and take a single step towards them before turning right around. Yeah, I’m not approaching a group of seriously hot chicks, with clothing that
smells like coffee and has brown stains to ask for directions. My college dating life would end before it even began. Instead, I spot an old beat up looking physical directory. Covered in dust and cobwebs, it still has a faded map and legend with building names. There are a lot of buildings that start with S. There’s the Socratic Gate, Silmarillion Rd., Sither Tower, Senior Hall, Sebley Auditorium, and so much more. However, there’s only one building that seems like it could be the one I’m looking for—Sanderson Matriculation Department. From the map, it appears as if it’s all the way across campus too. I sigh and try to memorize the location of the building from the map and start to jog towards where I think it is.
Chapter 4
It takes way too long to jog across campus. I notice the further I go the fewer students I see around. Before too long, it feels like I’ve left the big fancy buildings behind and am jogging among the college’s older ones. These are all one-story buildings made of red brick and surrounded by grassy fields and tall oak trees. Fewer students are walking around, and those that I do see are all old. They’re all at least in their thirties.
Finally, after what seems like forever, I see the building labeled Sanderson Matriculation Department. The metal sign on the side of the building is covered in rust. The structure doesn’t seem to be in better shape. I try the glass doors at the front of the building, but they don’t open when I pull on the door handles. Peering inside, the building looks empty. No one is at the front desk, the floor looks dusty, and the lights on the inside are off.
Thinking I must have the wrong building, I’m about to give up and walk back towards the library, when I see a movement to my left. Turning, I see a girl with long blonde hair run past. Thinking she might be a fellow student late for the same class, I run after her. Running past the glass doors, I’m just able to get a glimpse of the girl's blond hair as she runs behind the Sanderson Matriculation Department building. Man, she’s fast. I run after her, along the side of the brick building, my feet kicking up fallen leaves and grass. At the back of the building, I don’t see the girl anywhere. However, I do see a rusted blue door that’s likely a back exit from the SMD building. Testing the door handle, I find that it’s unlocked. I have to put a little muscle into pulling the door open, but it does so with hardly a sound.
That’s weird; you’d think a rusted door like this would squeal.
Looking through the now open doorway, I find that it does not lead to the main building like I thought it would. Instead, it leads down a set of stairs. If it weren’t for the lights in the stairwell, I would have turned away right then and there. I mean, how many stories that start with ‘I walked down a weird set of stairs’ ever end well? Still, my curiosity over where that blonde went gets the better of me and I make my way down the stairs. My hands hold the metal railing as I go down, chipping off some of the black paint as I go. After three flights of stairs, I find myself in some sub-basement. There are large leaky pipes along the ceiling, and the concrete floor has a spider web of cracks running through it. There’s a single hallway to my right, lit by a hanging light bulb that flickers off and on. At the end of the hall is a bright red door. It doesn’t look any different from any other door in this building except that I can see the light coming from under it.
I breathe a sigh of relief. I was worried for a minute that I’d stumbled upon some murder basement or something. I guess this Anthropology class must be in some old lab or basement classroom. I’d heard times are tough for colleges, but things must be really bad if they’re using a place like this. Still, who am I to judge? I’m fine as long as I get the education I’m paying for.
As I walk down the hallway towards the red door, the light above goes out, leaving the hallway in darkness. Slowly, the glow from under the red door intensifies, providing enough illumination for me to see the door handle. As I grasp and turn the handle, the light from the door gets even brighter. I want to yell for the teacher to dim the lights a little but figure that wouldn’t get me on her good side since I’m already pretty late. Instead, I open the door and step through a flood of intense white light.