Onwards!

There's something dark on the inside of the door's window, writing that feels weird when Bina looks at it. What kind of maggot grows in the corpse of a day?

Bina touches the writing. It's sticky, tar-like, and sends a shiver up her skin. (Was this here before? What before?)

Well, at least nothing inside tries to eat them. Always a bonus.

It looks office-like, and Bina steps shakily inside, glancing around. It's a bit dim, but - there's a calendar on the wall. It says it's July, 1911, and the seventeenth - a Monday, it had been a Wednesday - is circled in green. Someone's written "factory closed for experiment" in the box in French.

One hundred and two years ago, to the day.

"Uh..."

Ant looks around, a little wildly, a nasty sense of deja vu creeping through em. "Um," ey says. "What was that about maggots and corpses of days? That wasn't-" (Wasn't what?)

"I don't know, it feels... Weird? I wonder if it has anything to do with this... 'Factory closed for experiment'..."

The open door is suddenly shut, and either their eyes adjusted really fast, or the lights just turned on.

Bina startles slightly, and - "There's no breezes here. How..."

The air feels less thin. More like reality. The office isn't at all dusty - it looks like someone just stepped outside briefly, not like it was abandoned. There's a really old fashioned phone on one desk. No computers.

"Maybe." Ant gives a little shiver as the door closes. "Not spooky at all," ey mutters, a touch sarcastically. "-should we see if the phone works? Try calling someone?"

The end of the crack.

The beginning of the crack.

She picks up a gas mask just in case - maybe she can throw it at the woman - and goes to continue sneaking - 

And there's a crack of thunder as it begins to rain.

Fantastic.

Well, nothing for it - she sneaks the rest of the way to the office, the clay and grit dirt under her not-up-for-this shoes quickly turning into a black, sucking mud. The curtains are drawn (weird, these usually have blinds) even though the lights are on, she notices, and that's moderately uncomfortable but there's nothing she can really do - 

She slinks up to the door, taps on the window, but there's no response, so she takes a deep breath, opens it, and goes in.

She turns into the room...

There's no dead bodies.

That feels weird. Off. Almost like there should be. 

Bina is creeped out right now.

And Bina strongly, strongly does not feel good.

She backs against the bare wall - no painting but there's writing on it, why did she expect a painting - 

It feels like someone's stabbing needles in her eyes.

(She must lie down.)

(Down sounds.)

(Good.)

Bina falls.

There is another Bina here. Blue coat over yellow, with grey pants and blue boots and hat and a red scarf around her neck.

She climbs out from under the desk, goes to stand over the fallen Bina. Kneels down next to her, and pulls aside the covering on her arm, creating a tremendous flash of green.

They fall together, and she lays her other self down onto the past's floor.

Then she goes over to the painting on the wall, and begins to carve the word 'KNIFE.'

The end of the crack.

The beginning of the crack.

"Yeah, shit- this is gonna-" She sways, unsteady, eyes already starting to unfocus.

-Except, there, over Bina's shoulder, is that-

Jenn flinches. Because...that's them? Isn't it? And someone else?

"Crap - there's nowhere to lie down - " She does however swing the backpack on and dart over to Jenn.

She sees the flinch, then, as she reaches her, glances behind herself because what if it's the Corpse again - 

There's nothing.

No one.

No time, she needs to help Jenn, and she puts it out of her mind.

Jenn's too unsteady to even think about telling Bina what she just saw.

"Know-" is all she can manage, as she tries very hard to stop her knees from buckling, eyes closing not entirely of her own volition.

AHHHHHHHHHH.

Bina is, at least, ready to catch her if she falls.

(How do you treat seizures, forget journalism she's going into medicine if she survives this - )

(She's already forgotten the flinch.)

The end of the crack.