Story 1239: Vents of the Vanished

The vents hissed.

Not with air—but with whispers.

Harper ducked beneath the warped ceiling tile and hoisted herself into the ventilation shaft above the school library. Behind her, the moans of the Half-Dead grew distant. But the silence that replaced them was worse.

She crawled forward, knees scraping rust. The metal groaned under her weight, as if it, too, disapproved of her presence.

Then she heard it—scratching.

Not in front. Not behind.

Above.

Something was in the vents.

Harper froze. Her breath clouded the space in front of her, though the shaft shouldn’t have been cold. A sudden wind rushed past her from behind, carrying the faint scent of decay and dust.

Then came the voices.

“Where did they all go?”

“She saw us.”

“She’ll vanish like the rest.”

Harper forced herself forward, hand over hand, ignoring the tremble in her fingers. She reached a junction. Left led toward the gym. Right, toward the science wing. The whispering echoed from both.