The last bell of the school year rang like it meant something.
Alex felt it in his chest more than his ears—a sharp, echoing clang that vibrated through the lockers and bounced off the tiled floors. Around him, people cheered, slammed doors, shouted plans into the air like they were throwing paper airplanes. Summer had officially begun, whether anyone was ready or not.
Alex shut his locker and waited.
He always waited. It wasn't something he decided to do; it just happened. If you stood still long enough, people found you.
"Tell me you brought the bikes," Sam said, skidding to a stop beside him. Sam was already sweating, backpack slung over one shoulder like it had personally offended him.
"They're at my house," Alex said. "Like we said,Yesterday and the day before that."
"Just checking," Sam grinned. "You know, in case reality shifted overnight."
Jordan snorted as he joined them. "Reality doesn't shift overnight. That's not how physics works."
"Physics doesn't explain why the cafeteria pizza tastes worse every year," Lena said, appearing between them with a dramatic sigh.
"Yet here we are."
Maya followed last, quiet as always, her sketchbook tucked under her arm. She didn't say anything at first—just gave Alex a small smile, the kind that meant she was already thinking about something else.
Six of them drifted out of the building together, pulled by habit more than intention.
Outside, the June sun hit hard and bright, bleaching the front steps of Marrow High School until everything looked slightly unreal, like a photo with the contrast turned up too high. Parents idled in cars. Someone blasted music from a phone speaker. A group of freshmen screamed for no reason at all.
Riley waited near the bike racks, foot hooked around the wheel of a battered blue mountain bike. They were newer to the group—newer to the town, really—and still carried that faint tension of someone who wasn't convinced this place was temporary.
"You're late," Riley said.
"You say that every time," Lena replied.
"And every time it's true."
Alex unlocked his bike and rolled it forward. "Okay. Usual route. River trail, then—"
"—then nowhere," Sam finished. "Because it's summer."
Jordan raised an eyebrow. "Nowhere is not a plan."
"It's the best plan," Lena said. "No schedules. No bells. No expectations."
Maya's gaze drifted past them, toward the street that ran along the far edge of the school grounds. Her brow furrowed slightly.
Alex noticed. He usually did.
"What?" he asked.
She hesitated. "Nothing. I just thought—never mind."
Jordan scoffed. "That's never good."
They mounted their bikes and took off, weaving through side streets and cracked sidewalks, the town unfolding around them in familiar pieces: the corner store with the flickering OPEN sign, the abandoned car wash, the park where the swings squeaked even when no one touched them.
Marrow was the kind of town that didn't make the news. Too small for disasters, too quiet for miracles. Things happened here slowly, if they happened at all.
That was what Alex liked about it.
They cut toward the river trail, tires crunching over gravel, when Sam suddenly veered left.
"Shortcut," he called over his shoulder.
"That's not a shortcut," Jordan shouted back. "That's the old service road."
"It's still a road!"
Alex sighed but followed anyway. He always did. The service road curved away from the river and toward a part of town most people forgot about—the edge where warehouses used to be, where buildings had been torn down and never replaced.
Grass grew wild here. Chain-link fences sagged. The air felt heavier, somehow, like it didn't circulate properly.
They slowed as the road narrowed.
Lena frowned. "Wasn't this empty?"
Riley glanced around. "What do you mean?"
"Like… empty empty," Lena said. "Just weeds and trash."
Jordan opened his mouth to argue—and stopped.
Ahead of them, blocking the road, stood a building.
Alex braked so hard his tires skidded.
The building was big. Bigger than anything that should have been there. Concrete and brick, three stories tall, with narrow windows that reflected the sky at odd angles. A faded sign hung crooked above the entrance, its lettering worn down to pale ghosts.
No one spoke.
Sam broke the silence first. "Okay," he said slowly. "I know for a fact that wasn't there."
Jordan stared, his skepticism visibly scrambling to reassemble itself. "There would be permits. Records. A foundation like that doesn't just—appear."
Maya felt cold.
She hadn't realized it until that moment, but the sensation crept up her arms, prickling her skin like she'd stepped into shade after standing in the sun too long. She knew this place. Not from memory exactly—more like recognition.
Like seeing a face in a dream.
Alex dismounted and walked closer. "Does anyone remember… anything about this?"
Riley shook their head. "No. But it feels like it's been here forever."
"That doesn't make sense," Jordan said.
"Neither does you liking black coffee," Lena shot back. "Yet."
The building loomed, silent and patient. The front doors were glass, grimy but intact. Through them, the interior looked dim, stretching deeper than it should.
Sam grinned, excitement lighting his face. "Well. I vote we check it out."
Alex hesitated. His instincts screamed caution, a low, steady alarm. This wasn't curiosity. It was something else. Something pulling.
"We don't know what it is," he said.
"That's literally why we should look," Sam replied.
Maya stepped closer without realizing she'd moved. The cold intensified, but underneath it was something warmer. Familiar.
"I think…" She swallowed. "I think it wants us to notice it."
Everyone turned to look at her.
Jordan opened his mouth—then closed it.
Lena wrapped her arms around herself. "That's not creepy at all."
Riley reached for the door handle.
It was unlocked.
The hinges groaned softly as the door opened, the sound echoing longer than it should have. Inside, the air smelled like dust and rain and something faintly electric.
They stood there, six silhouettes against the light, staring into a space that did not belong to their town.
Alex took a breath.
"Five minutes," he said. "We go in, look around, and leave."
No one argued.
As they crossed the threshold, the door swung shut behind them with a quiet, final click.
And outside, the service road remained exactly as it always had been—empty, overgrown, and utterly unaware that something new had just arrived.