The auditorium smelled like burning circuits and old dust.
Students sat slumped in seats or stood in small clusters, murmuring to one another. Some still stared blankly at the broken projector screen. Others wept quietly, holding hands with people they now remembered but had forgotten for so long.
In the chaos, Harper walked straight down the center aisle.
Jamie Lorne was beside her — pale, shaken, but present.
Morgan and Eli followed close behind.
Room 13A had opened again.
And this time, Harper was going in on purpose.
The door stood at the end of the east hallway.
But the school's blueprints said there should be a janitor's closet there.
Now it pulsed with a dull red glow — like it was breathing.
"Once we're in," Harper whispered, "there's no turning back."
Jamie gave her a wry smile. "We already turned back once. Let's finish what we started."
They entered together.
The door slammed behind them.
Inside the source
Room 13A was alive.
Not in a haunted house kind of way — but in a computer system infected with a virus kind of way.
Walls shimmered with flickering code.
Desks melted into black tendrils and reformed elsewhere.
Floating in the center of the room was a terminal – glowing softly.
Morgan approached it and typed one word:
QUERY: WHAT IS ROOM 13A?
The screen blinked.
Response: System Reset Protocol / Memory Recalibration Engine.
Origin: Katherine Quinn Incident, 62 years ago.
Purpose: Prevent Cognitive Collapse in Controlled Academic Population.
Status: CRITICAL FAILURE.
Harper read it aloud.
"The system didn't start out evil… it was built to protect the school from something. But it lost control."
Morgan frowned. "Then who turned it into this?"
Suddenly, the lights dimmed.
A face formed on the wall — pixelated and flickering, but unmistakable.
Katherine Quinn.
"You've come far," the voice echoed, strange and layered. "But you've only uncovered half of it."
Harper stepped forward, heart pounding. "You're not real. You're a projection."
Katherine smiled — but it was sad.
"I'm what's left of her. My consciousness was fused to the early system. They trapped me here to stabilize the memories. I failed."
Jamie clenched his fists. "You didn't fail. You were buried."
Katherine's image glitched.
"You're the abnormal now, Harper. You've destabilized everything. That means… we might have a chance."
The terminal flickered again.
Manual Override Possible.
Requires One Anchor to Stay Behind.
Morgan gasped. "Wait—someone has to stay inside the system to reset it?"
Harper stared at the screen. The options were clear.
Fix it. Or let it crash completely — erasing everything.
"I'll do it," she said.
Jamie shouted, "No. You don't have to—"
"Yes," she cut in. "I do. This isn't just about me anymore."
Katherine's voice returned.
"There is a way to split the anchor. If memories are strong enough… the burden can be shared."
And Harper looked at Jamie.
He didn't hesitate.
"I remember you, Harper Quinn. Every day. Even when I wasn't supposed to."
They clasped hands.
And together, they pressed ENTER.