Chapter 2: The Vault Door Slams Shut

The cold nitrate reel was a sliver of darkness on the damp concrete floor. My fingers closed around it, the metal chill seeping into my skin.

Julian’s silhouette, dark and enraged, filled the doorway.

I spun, my feet sliding on the slick floor, and darted towards the sub-basement archive vault. The heavy steel door of Vault B loomed, its round, industrial wheel lock waiting.

His furious shout echoed down the corridor. “Hannah! You stop right there!”

My heart hammered against my ribs. The scent of old film chemicals and mildew filled my lungs. I reached the vault door, my shoulder slamming against the cold metal as I wrenched it open.

Inside, rows of metal canisters glinted under the dim emergency light. A maze of historical silence.

I slipped inside, barely clearing the frame before Julian lunged. His fist crashed against the reinforced steel with a dull, sickening thud. The entire door shuddered.

He roared, a sound of pure, frustrated fury that vibrated through the metal.

My hands flew to the massive wheel, gritting my teeth as I rotated it, feeling the heavy locking pins slide into place with a series of muffled clicks. The vault sealed.

I leaned against the door, my chest heaving, the small reel still clutched in my hand. The quiet hum of the ventilation system was the only sound now, a stark contrast to Julian’s muffled, impotent shouts from the other side. He was locked out. I was locked in.