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In Otto’s defense, he hadn’t been at Horizon for quite a while. He was bound to forget some details about its layout. And it wasn’t his fault that, despite the size of the building, the administration hadn’t thought it necessary to put up any maps anywhere. That was foolishness on their part, not that he was surprised.
And for the record, he was not wandering aimlessly, he was searching methodically. The storage room had to be around here somewhere. It was in the same area as the students’ personal labs, he recalled that much. That detail would’ve been more helpful, though, if there hadn’t been hundreds of students, which equated to multiple substantial areas throughout the school. Which was to say, it didn’t narrow down the search area very much.
Finally, while wandering walking down one of the long halls of decades and decades of identical doors, he came to one at the very end that was unmarked. This had to be it. It was a bit strange though, that it was unmarked. It should’ve been marked “storage”, or something of the like. Perhaps the label had been stolen by one of the students. It didn’t make much sense why anyone would want to steal a plaque simply inscribed with the word “storage”, but the behavior of children, especially teenagers, rarely made any sense. And even if it wasn’t storage, an unmarked room was worth investigating anyway, just for the sake of knowing what was there. He pressed his student ID against the pad and a little green light lit. Simultaneously, the panels of the door slid open, and he stepped in just as the lights inside automatically turned on.
He hadn’t really known what he’d expected to see. Half-finished inventions and scrap material, most likely. But he saw none of that. Instead, when the lights turned on, he was met with a far more alarming sight that stopped him in his tracks.
Rubber ducks. Rubber ducks as far as the eye could see.
To say he was left speechless was an understatement. The sight gave him whiplash so strong he felt his entire body practically recoil in shock. Judging by the size of the room, it had been a storage room at some point. The ducks were everywhere. On the floor, on boxes of various heights stacked shortest to tallest so none were hidden, on shelves that seemed to have been put in place for the sole purpose of holding the things. They coated every horizontal surface, except for a small strip of floor that served as a path through the madness, and a clearing in the middle. The clearing contained a circular table with five chairs sitting around it. The ducks themselves weren’t all the same. No, looking closer he could see every size, color, and tacky outfit imaginable. Some weren’t even rubber at all, but duck-shaped automatons clearly crafted by the students. Who had made this? Had it been one person, or a collaboration by multiple people? What could’ve possibly brought about such an idea? What was its purpose? Before he could muse on these questions further, a chill ran up his spine, and he was frozen in place as memories that weren’t his began playing through his head. Vivid recollections of an empty room being filled with exactly 287 ducks, students whispering in the halls about backstories and lore, Duck Fuckers and Duck Priests, a goose named Carol, honking in the vents, the collection growing larger each week. A terrifying montage that he couldn’t escape from.
He came to just as suddenly and jarringly as he’d gone out, thoroughly overwhelmed and gasping for air even though he knew he didn’t need to. Through the memories his questions had been answered, but he almost wished they hadn’t. Once he was aware of his surroundings he realized he wasn’t even standing anymore, he was sitting in one of the chairs at the table. How long had he been out? He looked at his watch.
4:32. He’d been in here for thirty minutes?
He looked around at the ducks that surrounded him on all sides. Beady black eyes that had once been blankly staring at nothing in particular now all seemed to be baring down on him, their judgmental gaze burning into his flesh. His spider sense wasn’t going off, but he was petrified with irrational fear, and a sense of dread crawled around under his skin, giving him goosebumps and increasing with every passing second. He shot up, knocking the chair down behind him and creating a clatter that was terrifyingly loud in the silent space. He didn’t bother to pick it up as he dashed out of the room and walked down the hall as fast as he could, away from the horrors he’d just witnessed. In the quiet, empty hall he heard the door close behind him. For once, the doors closing on their own was far more creepy than convenient.
I have to get out of here.