I jogged through the mist toward our meeting place, in front of Dr. Nataraj’s building. Swerving at the last moment, I avoided a bike ridden by a girl wearing two long braids. She yelped in surprise, dark eyes wide above her hot pink mask, the sound sharp and out of place, then cycled on and disappeared from view. We were far enough within the large campus that the noise of Taipei’s traffic was only a low hum in the distance.

My black boots sank into the wet grass before hitting concrete, and the grand arches of the science building manifested before me; some long, rectangular windows above them were lit up like blank eyes. Arun’s bright orange spiked hair drew my gaze immediately, and I broke into a wide grin until I saw his panic-stricken face. He lunged at me and grabbed my wrist. Something was seriously wrong.

“I still haven’t been able to get in touch with my mom,” Arun said while dragging me as he ran into the building. “Since yesterday afternoon. I came home late last night from the lab and didn’t see her this morning. She always returns my messages.”

We skidded through the foyer filled with arches leading into other corridors. Our footsteps echoed through the grand space. Arun pressed his palm to the scanner at the glass barrier allowing access into the interior, then tugged me through when the door swung open.

We took the stone steps two at a time. The long hallways were empty this afternoon. Most people had already left for the Qingming Festival tomorrow, making long trips to their ancestors’ gravesites for the annual tomb sweeping. The air was muggy in the stifling building, and coupled with the eerie quiet, the place felt abandoned. We stopped in front of Dr. Nataraj’s office. The wooden door was shut. Arun pounded on it.

“Her office door is never shut, much less locked,” Arun said. “And it sounds like the screen is on inside.”

Our eyes met, and the hairs on my arms rose.

“Mom?” Arun shouted this time and threw his shoulder against the door. It thudded loudly, reverberating down the empty hallway. “Help me,” he pleaded.

We counted to three and launched our bodies against the door. Arun was stocky and I was lean, but we both had some muscle. The door looked old, original to the building, and creaked in protest.

“Again!” I said.

We rammed ourselves against it once more, and this time, there was a loud snapping sound. We fell into the room.

Arun jumped up as I straightened.