Page 32 of Stardusted

I’d go to Professor Stern’s office. I’d justask.

What was the worst he could say? That it was classified?I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you?

I snorted.

There had to be a logical explanation.

I just had to find it.

The anthropology wingfelt abandoned when I stepped from the stairwell hours later.

The elevator was still out—surprise, surprise—so I’d taken the stairs three flights down to the bottom of the Finke Building. My heart pounded from exertion, not nerves. Probably.

It was definitely nerves that had me eyeing the corridor lights when they buzzed and flickered. If they went out, it was going to be extra dark in this basement hallway. I patted the phone in my pocket, just in case.

The empty hall was at least a lot quieter than the upper wings had been. Devoid of alien gossip and people laughing over UFO memes. I ground my teeth in annoyance. My social media feed was full of them. Everyone was still obsessed.

Hopefully not for long. The electrical problems and blackouts had stretched across the Midwest, but according to the latestnews clip, they were already tapering off. The solar flare, the newscaster claimed, was weakening.

If there was one at all.

I adjusted my bag and shoved away the thought. Who even was I? That wasn’t me. I didn’t fall prey to conspiracy theories. I certainly didn’t let them make me jumpy like this.

My old Converse squeaked with each step, the sound echoing off the cream-colored linoleum. Closed doors lined both sides of the corridor. I didn’t seeanyone.The few staff members working down here must’ve been out to lunch or at some off-site department meeting.

Still. It was weirdly empty. Maybe that was on purpose. Maybe it had something to do with Professor Stern’s project. I hadn’t seen any of the guards Bob had claimed were here, though.

And yet the quiet went from feeling peaceful to…unnatural. Foreboding.

Shrugging off the chill, I focused on the familiar: flyers and event posters tacked to the corkboards, blurbs about local digs and conference dates, and the peeling edge of a laminated map. The unease lingered anyway.

A door slammed somewhere nearby.

I jumped and sucked in a sharp breath, halting mid-step.

Rolling my eyes, I straightened my spine and began walking again with renewed determination. It was someone closing a door, for Pete’s sake. Perfectly normal. I was just on edge.

On the bright side, at least someone else was down here. It made the emptiness of the cramped basement wing feel a little less intimidating.

Then I rounded the corner?—

And caught a glimpse of a dark figure vanishing through the double doors markedLab 3.

They’d moved fast, a blur of motion, but I saw enough to register a tall, masculine form. The doors they’d passed through swung gently.

I paused at the bend in the hall, worrying my bottom lip.

That was weird. It almost looked like they’d been running. Maybe someone was late for a lab. Or a meeting with a professor.

“Professor Stern?” I called.

No response but the echo of my own voice. The fluorescent lights above buzzed and dimmed. I glanced up at them, breath catching. A half-second later, they flickered back to full power, as if nothing had happened.

Just a power blip.Again.I glared at the panels like they’d personally betrayed me.

Squaring my shoulders, I approached the double doors. No glow seeped from behind the opaque glass windows, but the panels still swung gently in the wake of whoever had passed through.

Instinct prickled at the back of my neck.