I shelter just inside the doorway and look out at the pounding hail and flying debris. Lightning strikes just a hundred feet from me and I hear the creak of the tree it struck falling. It’s falling towards me. I retreat deeper into the building. There is a tremendous crash behind me, and I risk a look over my shoulder. I stop and take out my phone to record the scene. “That tree could have ended me,” I say as I show that the tree knocked down the wall where I had entered the open door and brought down most of the roof of the front office part of the warehouse.

  The gaping hole is filled by the tree and its branches, but the dim storm light is also coming in, and I can see white hail bouncing on pieces of tree and collapsed building. Most of the white square ceiling tiles were already crumbling on the ground and turning black and brown with mold before the tree collapsed the roof, but what remained are now covering most of the floor, which otherwise is covered with a short blue carpet full of dirt and partially overgrown with moss. The walls are decorated with squares of blue and purple. A few moldy cubicles are pushed up against the walls on the side of the space away from the door I came in. Some are now crushed and bent by the weight of the collapsed ceiling and the tree. Along the wall under the tree trunk are banks of filing cabinets, some now crushed, others knocked to the ground. I turn the camera to myself and say, “Today’s the day I almost died.”

  I stop the recording, put my phone away, and assess my situation. I am near the rear wall of the frontmost part of the warehouse, and this part of the roof is still intact and protecting me from the hail, but the wind is now whipping around inside and the additional pieces of roof I see dangling and falling around me are telling me to find a safer place to shelter.

  I follow the wall, carefully stepping over new and old detritus, until I reach a doorway into the next section of the building. It is a set of double doors with push bars to open them. I push as hard as I can and manage to open one side enough to pass through.

  Once inside, the door pulls itself closed and there is no handle on the inside, just a metal rectangular plate on each door. The only light on this side is what seeps in the cracks around the double door. I take my phone out of my belt again and turn on the light. I also pull my earbuds out of my ears and put them back in their charging case. I hear the hail still hitting the roof and the wind shaking the walls. The floor here is a painted gray concrete. Off to my left I see a bunch of old dirty office chairs, some knocked over, as well as some cardboard boxes and papers scattered around. There are no doors or windows on that wall. To the right is a stack of old beige computer equipment. All the monitors have had their glass screens broken in. Beyond the pile of old computers are a forklift and three large square garage style doors that must open to a loading dock. Scattered about the huge space are some other random items: a mop, a stack of wooden pallets, a few desks, more random chairs, a giant roll of plastic wrapping material. I shine my light up above and the high gray corrugated metal roof seems perfectly intact; there were no ceiling tiles in this area. On the far wall, there are a few doors as well as a metal stairway to an upper level. My light barely reaches that far.

  Everything appears safe enough here. This large main warehouse space seems to have been well enough insulated against the elements that apart from the minimal vandalism, it probably doesn’t look too different than it did on the last day employees were here. I turn off my phone light and try to call my mother. I see the message no network found. My phone cannot detect any cellular or wi-fi networks. I wonder if the storm took out cell towers or is room blocking signals. I decide I have to find somewhere I can see outside and will know I should be able to get some reception if it is available.

  I turn my light back on and make my way deeper into the space across the mostly empty floor; I consider my options. I do not want to climb the long metal stairway unless I must. It seems in good condition, but who knows how the rooms up there have fared since they are closer to the elements. On the ground floor, I see three doors in front of me; off to the right are also the loading bay doors and a standard doorway to the left of them partially hidden by a forklift. I decide to try the loading bay doors since they must lead directly outside.

  I go over to the door behind the forklift and realize that it opens inward and the forklift is backed all the way up against the door. There is a key in the ignition, and I try to turn it to no effect. I climb in and try turning it as I press each pedal in succession, but none seem to make a difference. I have no idea how to drive it even if it did start. I climb out and try to push it out of the way, but it doesn’t move a millimeter. I try to pull up on the three loading bay doors and none of them move either. My cell phone still gets no service holding it close to the doors. I see some controls with buttons, but even though there is no power, I press them anyway and nothing happens as I expected.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Then I walk all the way across the remainder of the cavernous space to the back wall. Under the gangway at the top of the metal stairs is a large glass window with doors on either side. I put my phone light up to the glass to see beyond the reflection into the next room. I can see that the doors on either side of the glass both go to the same place. I pull on the handle of the door closest to the loading docks and it swings open easily although with a slight squeak and a grinding noise. There are more chairs, cubicles, beige computers, and monitors here, but all of the glass is intact. I wonder why the large window to this room is not broken. Why did the vandals stop with the monitors in the main warehouse?

  The sound of hail seems to have gone, but I still hear wind and rain. There is a loud crushing, crashing, crunching sound from somewhere beyond the room. I press my phone up against the glass to illuminate the space beyond. Nothing seems to have changed, but the far side disappears into the gloom as my light is not as powerful shining through the glass. I go back to exploring the large room I am currently in. There is some water damage in here and half of the ceiling tiles are drooping or already fallen. Some rain is dripping down and pooling on the dirty blue carpet that matches the carpet that was in the front office area. Towards the back on the right wall, I see a red and white sign with an arrow pointing towards the exit. There is a short hallway and then more double doors that open with push bars. This time I move a chair over and lay it down in the opening after I push the bar to keep the door open.

  Beyond the doors is a hallway leading off to the left behind the room and the exit door to the right, which is another double door with push bars. However, these are tightly chained to each other. I press the bar of each door in turn as hard as I can to see if I can make some sort of opening, but they do not budge. With my phone light, I inspect the doors and notice there are barrel bolts at the top and bottom of each door that fit into the top of the frame and the floor respectively. I try to twist and turn and pull up on the locking bolts, but they are completely stuck. I manage to open one of the top ones and try again on the bottom lock of that door to no avail. I turn off my light for a moment and let my eyes adjust to the dark. It is pitch black with no light seeping around the door. It is either well sealed or also blocked somehow from outside too. I turn my light back on at its lowest setting. The hallway is not so large and I’m beginning to worry about battery life; it’s at 42%.

  I decide to explore the hallway rather than turning back, but I leave the door to the large window room propped open. A short way along the hall is a door with a blue icon indicating it is a men’s room. I go in and see the expected tiled room with toilet stalls, urinals and sinks. There is no window or exit, so I leave. The next door in the hallway opens to a small utility closet containing a broken broom, a cracked dustpan, some moldy packages of paper towels, and some rusty cans. Beside the closet is a door with a pink icon for the women’s room. I go inside and see basically the same thing as the men’s room, but with the urinal area replaced by a padded bench that still looks like it is in good condition. I have a sudden urge to pee. I go into one of the stalls and the toilet is just empty and dried out. I could squat anywhere, but I figure I might as well use the facilities out of a sense of propriety even though I know in my mind that it doesn’t matter in this long-abandoned building. Out of habit, I even try to flush when I am done, but nothing happens. There’s no toilet paper, but that can’t be helped.

  Feeling a bit more comfortable, I go back into the hallway and turn to my right. The next door is an empty office with an old, overturned desk. Half of the room looks to be a giant puddle, and the interior is covered in mold. The smell is terrible, and I quickly close the door. Continuing down the passageway, I come to a four-way intersection. I go left and the first door opens into a break area. There are some old tables and chairs scattered about. Two sides of the room are bordered by cabinets and a counter with a deep sink. On the counter is a doorless microwave with a log inside for some reason. Further along the hall is a door that leads back into the glass window room. It ends back at the main warehouse with another pair of double doors opened by push bars, but these ones do have handles on the other side.

  I backtrack to the intersection and turn left. There are two empty offices on the right and another on the left. The hall ends at a drinking fountain. I return to the intersection and turn left. There is a sign reading: “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY: ENTER KEY CODE OR RING BELL” on another pair of metal doors. Where the two doors meet in the center are two rectangular metal pull handles. I look doubtfully at the round red button and the metal box with a twelve-button keypad attached to the wall next to the left door. I just pull the handle of the right door, and, to my surprise, the door opens easily revealing more dark hallway and another pair of doors further down. I go get two office chairs, leaving one to prop open the authorized personnel only door and the other I push before me down the hall towards the next doors. I shine my light around, passing it over the walls and ceiling. I just see square ceiling tiles, rectangular light covers that are two tiles long, gray paint, and more blue carpet that is beginning to get damper and cause my footsteps to squelch. As I approach the door at the end of the hall, I think I can see light leaking faintly around it when I shine my light away from the door. This door also has a sign, but it just reads: “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY”. I turn my light off and the outline of the doors is clearly visible in the surrounding darkness. “Please let this be an exit,” I say aloud to myself as I push the doors open.