His hair, usually slicked back, was damp and messy, sticking to his forehead in thin strands.

He did not see us at first.

He hurried toward the main glass doors, his wet shoes squeaking loudly on the marble.

When he reached the entrance, he stopped dead in his tracks.

He stared at the massive steel grilles blocking his path.

“What the…” he muttered aloud, his voice strained and high.

He dropped his briefcase onto a nearby bench and began frantically pressing the emergency exit buttons on the wall.

Nothing happened.

The red lights on the security panel remained solid and locked.

He rattled the heavy metal handle of the side door, but it did not budge.

“It won’t open, Arthur,” Nathaniel’s voice rang out through the empty lobby.

Arthur spun around so fast he nearly lost his footing on the smooth floor.

His eyes darted across the darkness until they landed on our group sitting by the reception desk.

When he saw Nathaniel, his face went pale, a slick sheen of sweat reflecting the emergency lights.

Then his eyes shifted to me, and then to Ruby.