to an unlocked entryway with an old, wobbly knob embedded in the chipped paint and steel. Gingerly turning it, Autumn pushed outward, eyes widening in surprise.
“What the hell is this?” she murmured.
Miraj slipped past her, surveying the wooden ceiling and various cables and boxes. “My best guess? Storage passage beneath the stage.”
The flashlight beam danced over the dusty floor, noting candy wrappers, ribbons and what appeared to be confetti. “But why would there be a passage from the maintenance tunnels to here?”
“This building was redone, right? Upgraded with fancy alumni dollars? Maybe the stage didn’t always have a hollow floor.” Miraj shrugged, turning to her friend. “Try another stairwell, or try a way out of here?”
Autumn bit her lip, weighing the options briefly. “It would probably be easier to find a stairwell from the building down, rather than guessing at the right one up . Maybe we should try to get out of here, find a way to a corridor or backstage even?”
With a wink, Miraj replied, “Ding! That’s my girl. C’mon, let’s try towards the centre. Maybe they have some trap door dealio.”
The girls crept deeper into the musty space, stifling coughs and slightly hunched to avoid slamming into low beams. The ceiling clearance was less than six feet, and using her own height as a guide, maybe five-nine at most. Dust clouds swarmed their sneakers and clung to their legs as Autumn swung the light upward, scanning for a hinge or latch of some kind – anything to denote a way out. A shimmer to her right caught her attention, and she spun, grinning at her find.
“Bingo.”
Miraj followed her gaze and darted forward, studying the square hatch. “I don’t see a lock or handle.”
“That’s because it’s electrical,” Autumn answered, flashing the light over a simple remote with four buttons, nestled in a holder affixed to a nearby beam. “It’s boarding school, Miraj. Make the students do physical labour? Never!”
“What the hell was I thinking?” Miraj laughed, reaching for the remote. “Gimme light; I’ll get this elevator working in a jiffy.”
“Jiffy? Okay there, Pleasantville! ” Autumn teased.
“Bitch, you work with a sixty year-old waitress all day and then come talk to me,” Miraj grumbled. “And remember, I still punch in full colour. Aha!” With a press of a button, the large hatch began to descend slowly.
They didn’t bother dropping the platform to the ground; halfway was enough to hop aboard, Miraj taking great delight in their ascension. In a minute of scrambling, Miraj located a matching remote control on a wall panel just beyond stage left, and Autumn tucked theirs back in its sleeve. The platform met stage once more, and the girls cut backstage, giggling as they studied lighting equipment and the beginnings of set construction.
“As much fun as that was, it’s not practical for stealth missions,” Miraj noted. “There’s so much electrical bullshit back here that there has to be another way down into the tunnels.”
“There’s also the film editing studios upstairs, and there have to be bathrooms. Those need connections to the sewers, right?”
Miraj nodded. “I’m betting on at least two other ways down. Is there a basement?”
“No clue,” Autumn whispered. “Here’s a general stairwell. Maybe it goes down?”
But it didn’t. It only ventured upwards a single long flight, towards an access for stagehands to the lighting rigs. A second door was an access hall towards a set of dressing rooms. A third was bolted with a Medeco lock, not worth Miraj’s time in breaking through. Giving up on the theatre, they migrated out into the main foyer and slinked up a side stairwell to the lounge area that Autumn often used to write during normal hours.
“Let’s take five. I’m tired,” Miraj declared, flopping on the large black sofa. “How’s
“What the hell is this?” she murmured.
Miraj slipped past her, surveying the wooden ceiling and various cables and boxes. “My best guess? Storage passage beneath the stage.”
The flashlight beam danced over the dusty floor, noting candy wrappers, ribbons and what appeared to be confetti. “But why would there be a passage from the maintenance tunnels to here?”
“This building was redone, right? Upgraded with fancy alumni dollars? Maybe the stage didn’t always have a hollow floor.” Miraj shrugged, turning to her friend. “Try another stairwell, or try a way out of here?”
Autumn bit her lip, weighing the options briefly. “It would probably be easier to find a stairwell from the building down, rather than guessing at the right one up . Maybe we should try to get out of here, find a way to a corridor or backstage even?”
With a wink, Miraj replied, “Ding! That’s my girl. C’mon, let’s try towards the centre. Maybe they have some trap door dealio.”
The girls crept deeper into the musty space, stifling coughs and slightly hunched to avoid slamming into low beams. The ceiling clearance was less than six feet, and using her own height as a guide, maybe five-nine at most. Dust clouds swarmed their sneakers and clung to their legs as Autumn swung the light upward, scanning for a hinge or latch of some kind – anything to denote a way out. A shimmer to her right caught her attention, and she spun, grinning at her find.
“Bingo.”
Miraj followed her gaze and darted forward, studying the square hatch. “I don’t see a lock or handle.”
“That’s because it’s electrical,” Autumn answered, flashing the light over a simple remote with four buttons, nestled in a holder affixed to a nearby beam. “It’s boarding school, Miraj. Make the students do physical labour? Never!”
“What the hell was I thinking?” Miraj laughed, reaching for the remote. “Gimme light; I’ll get this elevator working in a jiffy.”
“Jiffy? Okay there, Pleasantville! ” Autumn teased.
“Bitch, you work with a sixty year-old waitress all day and then come talk to me,” Miraj grumbled. “And remember, I still punch in full colour. Aha!” With a press of a button, the large hatch began to descend slowly.
They didn’t bother dropping the platform to the ground; halfway was enough to hop aboard, Miraj taking great delight in their ascension. In a minute of scrambling, Miraj located a matching remote control on a wall panel just beyond stage left, and Autumn tucked theirs back in its sleeve. The platform met stage once more, and the girls cut backstage, giggling as they studied lighting equipment and the beginnings of set construction.
“As much fun as that was, it’s not practical for stealth missions,” Miraj noted. “There’s so much electrical bullshit back here that there has to be another way down into the tunnels.”
“There’s also the film editing studios upstairs, and there have to be bathrooms. Those need connections to the sewers, right?”
Miraj nodded. “I’m betting on at least two other ways down. Is there a basement?”
“No clue,” Autumn whispered. “Here’s a general stairwell. Maybe it goes down?”
But it didn’t. It only ventured upwards a single long flight, towards an access for stagehands to the lighting rigs. A second door was an access hall towards a set of dressing rooms. A third was bolted with a Medeco lock, not worth Miraj’s time in breaking through. Giving up on the theatre, they migrated out into the main foyer and slinked up a side stairwell to the lounge area that Autumn often used to write during normal hours.
“Let’s take five. I’m tired,” Miraj declared, flopping on the large black sofa. “How’s
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