When to Trust a Stranger

Greta parked her car and pulled out her phone.

‘...A security guard will greet you in the parking lot, check you in, and give you your assignment. The main building in which you will be working is three quarters of a mile from the parking lot. You will walk left out of the lot onto Pheasant Street, then take a right and proceed on Queens Fort Lane. The school is straight ahead. You will be provided with an access badge granting you enterance through the front door and admission to necessary parts of the building …’

She scanned the abandoned lot she was in, looked at the empty attendant’s booth where she presumed the security guard would be posted, then glanced down at the gas light indicator lit on her dash. She opened the windows and turned off the car. She’d arrived early to make a good impression and hopefully speak to someone about steady employment opportunities at the institute, but it seemed she was at the mercy of the security guard’s time of arrival.

The League of Avant-Garde Devotees’ Day School, known also as The LADD School, was a repurposed mill building that opened several years ago. Greta knew little about the establishment and even less about the abstract world of art, but she’d taken a personal day to come here and for five hundred dollars would adapt to whatever type of study subject the students required- even going as far as nudity, in the name of art.

She waited in the muggy heat for nearly twenty minutes, observing the overgrown neighborhood surrounding her and wondering what type of people lived in these homes, when the security guard finally arrived.

“Howdy,” came the voice from inside the booth.

“Good morning,” she said. “I’m Greta Rose. I was instructed to-“

“The ‘Auxiliary Muse’,” he said smiling, “they come up with fancy names for everything ‘round here.”

She returned the smile and finally took a breath that felt easy.

“You complete all the forms online?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Any questions?”

“No- just, is there a possibility this position could be recurrent? I mean the pay is excellent, and I’d love an opportunity to-“

“No,” he said. “The students here are … different. They got free rein to do whatever they think they need to, so you gotta be openminded to deal with ‘em. That’s why the pay is so good. But what you signed up for is just today.”

Greta nodded.

He then handed her a Yondr pouch. “Unlocking bases are by all the exits, but not outside. I don’t even have one, so don’t leave the buildin’ without opening it.”

Great almost laughed. Who would forget that after a day without their phone?

“And once you unlock it, your badge deactivates, so you’ll be done for the day.”

Greta nodded.

“You’re goin’ to room 102. Just follow the signs they got posted inside; you’ll find it.”

“Thank you,” she said, then paused. “There don’t seem to be many occupants in these houses.”

“Shouldn’t be. The LADD School bought up most of the properties and plan to make ‘em student housing ‘ventually. The ones they haven’t bought is cus they can’t track down who actually owns ‘em. Shouldn’t no one be livin’ in ‘em though.”

“Do you have problems with squatters?”

He shook his head. “There’s no water or ‘lectricity, and most of ‘em leek. We’ve called the cops a few times over the years when we’ve spotted fires, but they never seem in a rush to do much ‘bout it.”

“I see,” she said. “Thank you.”

***

Greta rounded the corner onto Queen’s Fort Lane, and the school came into view in the distance. With her destination in sight, she relaxed a little and began glancing at the homes around her. They looked sterile and had to be at least a century old. Small square buildings all some variant of grey and decay. A cat sitting in an open window startled her with his calls and the feeling of not being totally alone made her uneasy.

She stopped suddenly when she noticed movement to her right. Another animal? She could barely see above the overgrown shrubs into the yard, but by balancing on her toes managed to spot two boys playing on a rusty, metal swing set. They looked to be about four and six. The younger was climbing on a slide and the older swinging. When the bigger one stilled and looked at her, she noticed a young man behind him. An older brother perhaps? He was thin, but fit and had a nice jawline. Actually, with a cut and a shave, he’d be quite handsome. He appeared to be in his late twenties and as uncomfortable in his surroundings as she was viewing him in it.

When all three stopped and stared at her, Greta gasped and felt her face became hot. She knew better than to stand here gawking at people. Their returned attention made her feel like she’d been caught trespassing, and, in a sense, she had- if only with her eyes. But what were they doing here?

She was about to resume her journey, when something else caused her to turn back. There was a tree in the middle of the yard, halfway between the house and the swing set. On the far side a branch reaching towards the house had a swing tied to it and a girl.

Greta walked back up the sidewalk and approached the young lady. Somewhere between the age of the oldest boy and the young man, this girl sat on the swing looking straight ahead without blinking. She was a very odd color- a grayish green. And at close range, she appeared covered in moss or seaweed, or vomit. The long hair dangling over her shoulders was covered in it too. She was a filthy mess with this sludgy mix of mud and dirt covering her from head to toe. Her eyes stood out as the brightest, cleanest part of her. Then Greta noticed her legs were bound together like a mummy’s, and her wrists were tied to the sides of the swing by her shoulders.

“Do you need help?” Greta asked.

There was no reply. So, she tried again.

“Are you alright?”

“Help …” the girl murmured. Her eyes finally shifted focus and began searching for the voce that might bring releif, but her eyes scanned right over Greta without detection.

“Help,” she said again, this time with more awareness. She started rocking on the swing and shook the branches- disturbing the eerie stillness in the air with cries from both her and the tree. “Help! Help!”

Greta stood there horrified and watched the leaves float down from overhead surrounding the girl in an isolated flurry. Their refusal to be rushed only spurred the vexation of the now violently thrashing girl as she moved in every direction, trying to escape the leaves as much as her ties to the swing and the tree itself. But their calm, controlled dissent fell with a smothering hopelessness over the girl and darkened her state.

“That’s enough.” Greta heard the young man’s voice and knew he was starting in their direction. She watched the girl quiet with her chest still rising and falling furiously as the last of the dislodged leaves floated down like a cage door slowly closing.

Greta was breathing as rapidly as the girl as she backed away from the fence. The man’s voice was booming but she didn’t hear what else he said- just the scurrying of the boys’ feet as they followed his command.

Now in the middle of the street, she started swiftly toward the school questioning what to do about the scene she’d just witnessed and wishing she could access her phone.

Greta reached the building and from the front noticed a park of sorts to the right. She’d like to go sit under the trees for a moment and collect herself, but the area appeared enclosed by a fence with no gate. She turned to look back down the street. The yard appeared empty now and the tree was still. She wondered if they would be back outside when she returned to her car later.

***

A sign posted opposite the enterance read, ‘← 304-344; 101-124 →’.

Greta went down the hall and turned right. The first room was 201. She paused and looked at it for a moment, then continued to the next door- it was on the opposite side of the hall labeled 210. But there was a sign on it, ‘↑101-124’.She opened the door with her badge and stepped in. The lights were off but there were black lights lit around the room. When she didn’t find any light switches on the wall, she let the door behind her close and allowed her eyes to adjust to the environment. It seemed like a normal classroom: tables, seating, shelves filled with a variety of materials, media equipment, etc., but no people. Her attention settled on another door, and she could make out another sign hung on it.

‘101-124 →’.

She opened the door to a hallway that was pitch black. But ten feet to the right she could see a glow coming from a small window and shadows indicating movement inside.

She moved to the door quickly, before the door behind her had a chance to close, and she used her badge to unlock the second door.

Inside was darker than the last room and lit with red lights instead of blacklights. Three young men hovered over one table straining to examine something in a tray. On the table beside them was a timer, tongs, and several vials. One young man looked up at her, scowled through his glasses, and jerked his head to his left before returning his attention to the tray.

Greta moved quietly in the indicated direction and quickly passed through another door leading, unsurprisingly, to another black hallway. She paused to let her eyes adjust but after several seconds still couldn’t make anything out in the darkness. A vinegary smell had followed her into the hall but was now dissipating and she caught the scent of a recently cleaned floor. She put her hands out to feel for a light switch and detected a wall on her left. She took a deep breath and reached straight ahead where she discovered a door, but her badge didn’t open it. So, she started moving slowly to the right.

The floor was smooth and clean with no feel of grit or dirt. Guided by her right hand against the wall, she carefully began navigating down the hall. About eight steps further, and she felt something on the wall– a little plaque with tiny bumps on it. She ran her fingers over it several times but didn’t recognize anything, which was disappointing. She’d only ever learned letters and numbers in braille and sign language, when she was about seven, but had no idea nearly two decades later what was written on the sign.

As she tried to remember the correlation between letters and numbers in brail, Greta continued forward. One step on the clean slick floor, then her heart jumped into her throat. Her forearm slammed down on a metal rail as she tried to break her fall, but she came crashing down and slid several steps further, stiff as a board, until she hit a landing.

She could feel her heart thumping in her head and every part of her body ached.She felt the corners of her eyes dampen with tears she hadn’t yet been cried. She sat there for a moment holding her breath with her eyes closed so the darkness wouldn’t torment her as much and tried to decide what to do.

If the rooms started in the two hundreds on the main floor, the one hundreds were likely downstairs. Perhaps people were down there with lights on in Room 102 waiting for her.

She stood, holding tight to the stair rail with sweaty palms, and carefully felt her way down about six more steps before reaching another landing. She took a step forward and felt the scuff of grit under her shoe. She bent down and touched the floor. It was cement- not polished tile like the floor above, and the area smelled musty. Somewhere in front of her, she heard a clang, and a rush of water hissed briefly then shut off. She must be close to the basement.

She put her hands out to feel for a wall and hopefully a door, or even better a light switch.

Then something brushed across her left arm.

She froze. The hair on her entire body spiked to the point of being painful. Suddenly awareness of the surrounding blackness came rushing back to her and fear took over. She was holding her breath and damp with sweat. Her body still throbbed from the fall and was now made worse from tension, and her foot felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Her head was pounding, and the space on her back between her shoulders was starting to cramp and ach.

Gretta forced herself to breath. Focused on just trying to calm herself, she closed her eyes. But this time she felt a tear slide down her cheek, and her breath began to quicken again she more tears were pressing behind her eyes. Then something swept by her, and she heard footsteps running away down the stairs.

She bolted back up the stairs. She turned left on the landing and headed straight for the room with the red lights. But when she reached it, the lights were out. The room was black. She canned her badge, but nothing happened. She tried scanning it again and then tried the opposite door, but nothing opened.

When she heard footsteps scratch across the gritty surface below, she knew she couldn’t remain standing here. Greta ran back down to the landing to see if the stairs also lead up.

They did!

She wasn’t sure why this brought relief, but the new direction felt like hope. Starting as quietly as possible up the stairs, she listened for footsteps beneath her while casting her attention upwards. Rounding a corner, her breath quickened again, but this time because she saw a tiny bit of light coming from what appeared to be the window on the door.

She continued towards it and was ready to break down in tears when her badge unlocked the door. Pushing it open, the light she stepped into nearly blinded her.

She walked onto an upper hallway overlooking a very open, modern common area buzzing with students and activity. At the other end of the hall was a turn style opening to several other hallways and the outdoors. But she didn’t notice any way to access the downstairs.

Greta finally caught her breath and gathered her nerve and started forward. As she neared the end of the hall, she could see into the other corridors. Glancing down them in search of a restroom, her chest tightened when she saw the man from earlier that morning. He was coming toward her. She looked away and hastened her step. But she failed to put enough ground between them, and he entered the same rotating compartment of the turnstile as she.

He was much larger up close than he had appeared in the overgrown yard, and he consumed all the space around her. The gate seemed to rotate in slow motion. She forgot about searching for a restroom and her only thought now was to get outside in the fresh air and sunlight.

When she stepped in front of him to escape out the first exit, the man didn’t move. First her hip brushed against him then she let the rest of her body slide along his front on the way passed. The contact between them made her hesitate just a moment before stepping outside.

Now more confused than ever, by the all the morning’s events and her own behavior just now, Greta hesitated before starting down the steps towards the grass. Forgetting the young man for a moment she looked up and realized she was in that fenced in park area on the side of the building, the one inaccessible from the street. She was locked in. And her phone was still locked. She had to go back inside.

She turned and saw the man had followed her out. He stood in front of the door, and they looked at eachother, making direct eye contact for the first time.

Then, he took a half step forward and held out his hand. Holding his gaze, she inhaled a deep breath, extended her hand, and took it.