Asylum by Madeleine Roux

Dan said as he and Abby crouched and walked through to the next room.
    “Then who opened it back up?”
    Bits of loose brick and wall scattered from Dan’s shoes. “Professor Reyes mentioned something about a senior seminar archiving this place. I’m guessing they needed to knock a hole in the wall to get access.”
    The ceiling and walls opened up, and with a quick sweep of the flashlight, Dan determined they were in a second, smaller office, this one with nothing but two tan filing cabinets and a downward stairwell to the right.
    “What’s in there?” Jordan called from the other side, making them both jump.
    “Nothing much,” Dan replied, nearing the cabinets. Little placards with A–D, E–I, and so on down the alphabet were affixed to each drawer. “Just patient records, I think. You can come through if you want.”
    Jordan appeared from the narrow passage, his eyes wide and spooked. He noticed the dark stairwell and recoiled. “Please tell me you are not thinking about going down there, Abs.”
    “We haven’t even found anything yet,” she replied, flashing her phone toward the stairs. “Feels cold. I bet it leads down to a whole lower level.”
    “Which is exactly why you shouldn’t go. Have you seen even one horror movie? Jesus!”
    “I just want to see where it goes,” she said. “And the stairs don’t look too bad.” Gingerly, she put one foot on the top stair and transferred her weight to it. “See? Sturdy enough.”
    “I’ll go with you,” Dan offered.
    “Great. Awesome. You two go into the abyss, then. I’ll just be here not getting axe-murdered.”
    Together, Dan and Abby carefully took the stairs down, testing each step before putting their full weight on it. Dan wanted to think it was romantic, the way they were watching out for each other, but it was a stretch, even before you considered the cold and the moldy smell that grew stronger with every step. At last the stairs ended abruptly, winding around into a narrow corridor. Step by step they crept forward, the corridor pressing in on them, making Dan feel like he couldn’t breathe. He wondered how claustrophobic it must have felt working down here—especially if you were trying to push a wheelchair or a gurney along this narrow hall.
    Doors began appearing on their left and then their right, staggered every few yards or so. Abby drew up in front of one, flashing her light into the little slot of a window set in the door.
    “God,” she murmured. “There’s still stuff laying around.”
    “What kind of stuff? Let’s see.” Dan opened the door and inched inside, frightened of what they might find. He shined his flashlight into the darkness.
    Instantly, he felt sick. It was the room from his vision, right down to the operating table and the bloody shackles on the wall. How could he have seen a room he’d never been in? He felt shaky and weak, and leaned against the door while Abby toured around the room with her tiny cell phone light.
    “What’s that on the table?” she asked, pointing to the rusty stain on the white sheet.
    “Blood,” said Dan.
    “How can you be so sure?”
    I have no idea.
    “It’s so sad in here.” Abby looked up at the single window in the room with the bars across it, as if anyone could actually climb through a slit that small and that high. As low as they were, the window must just barely be aboveground, if it led outside at all. “Did they really live like this?”
    “This place would make anyone crazy,” Dan said with a violent shudder. “Let’s get out of here.”
    He’d meant the basement altogether, but when Abby turned to lead them farther down the hallway, Dan didn’t stop her. At last, the narrow corridor opened up into a kind of small rotunda, with two closed doors at the far end of the curve.
    Abby approached the left-hand door, shining her phone over it. “More offices?” she said.
    “I don’t know.… I thought the offices were all upstairs.…” Dan opened the left door