A surreptitiously obtained roll of film

Midnight, and a car sat idling in an empty parking lot, lights off. Inside, Marty sat stewing on thrilling throughts of conspiracy. His heart raced, and the ghostly building loomed large in front of him. I can still back out, he thought, somehow also knowing that he was lying to himself. He was simply too curious, and now, as event after even in this seemingless endless chain had become ever the more frightening, he knew that whatever this being held was the end of the line. Or at least he hoped so. Endless chain, he scoffed at himself, this started hardly more than a week ago. That thought unnerved him. How has it only been a week?

Marty twisted the key out of the ignition, and the engine mumbled lowly, fading into the night. He opened the door and was assaulted by the just-freezing temperature. “Haaaah,” he breathed, watching his crystalized breath and stepping into the night. Closing the door gently, he stepped toward the building, not without an omnious feeling raising the hair on his arms. Maybe that’s just the cold, he tried to convince himself.

This close to the building, illuminated by a single failing light post, he could now see that it was rather dilapidated; windows were smashed and the set of double doors facing him were barely still secured on their hinges. The sturdiest thing he could see was a thick padlocked steel chain threaded through the door handles. Rational or irrational to bother trying? Content with reaching no conclusion with that thought, Marty wrestled with the chain, lock, and the doors themselves, but none would not budge. Espying the particularly threadbare hinges, Marty backed up. Boom! Smashed his heal, quaking the doors. Loud as fuck. His heart raced and he looked around, but the quite, chill night still clung all around him.

Marty launched his heel once more into the hinges and a rush of mixed emotions smote his as he felt a cracking release reverberate up into his leg. He examined his handiwork, and indeed the bottom hinge had shattered. Just the one other? Okay, he laughed, backing up again.

All in a fluid motion, Marty’s heel struck the hinge, bursting it asunder along with flecks of wood, and the door swung wildly half-open, still trapped by the chain. But it was enough; that’ll do, he thought, exilerated, as adrenaline coursed in his blood.

He wriggled his way inside, careful not to not catch his clothes or skin on the busted joints or wood. Clearing the teeth, Marty shifted his attention about him, and despite the crushing blackness, he could tell he was but at the very threshhold of an immense warehouse. He withdrew his phone and tapped the flashlight, the light of which bounced off of nothing but the floor immediately about him, confirming his feeling of being in an endless cavern. Venturing further in, he couldn’t help but double-check his battery life.