Taking into consideration how much activity had just transpired, I was not surprised in the least by how sickeningly hot the bookstore felt to me. That, however, did not make it any less unbearable.
"Maybe it's ink or something," Gene suggested as he took a picture of the dried blot in question. "And even if it is blood, would it be that surprising?" Gene pointed to his arm and shrugged. He did have a point.

"So hey, while on the subject of blood," I said to everyone, "what kind of fun ghost stories does this place actually have again?" Gene laughed a little before offering a hand to help me up. I ignored him and got up by myself.
"Actually," Tammy said, "there really aren't any actual stories about this place. None that I know of, anyway." I continued dusting myself off with my hands as she spoke. "Why, you think the blood means that once upon a time ago that... that--"

Tammy was interrupted by her own mousy little sneeze. Shining my flashlight through the dark air, I could now see dust swirling everywhere, illuminating our flashlight beams like white pylons. Even though our bandannas were primarily for hiding our identities should any guards or police officers see us, I could only imagine that everyone else was just as glad to have them to block all the dust everywhere as I was. Considering all the little circles the dust made in our light, it was hard to say that it was still stagnant air we were breathing; what it had become was not much better, though.

Just as Tammy finished her sneezing, I felt my own strange chill pass behind me. I went back to slapping the dust off my arms and legs, kicking up even more swirling specs but at this point I didn't care. I was sick of the dust, sick of breathing it, sick of being covered in it... it was strange. In past outings I have fallen down a hill through the wet mud. When we explored an old factory I was covered in grease and cobwebs and yet I was still ready for more. When we got into the old brewery I even fell into a puddle of unknown liquid, remaining wet and bothered the rest of the night -- but even then, I was still quite happy to continue our exploration.

Not this time. I hadn't given up like this in a couple of years, but tonight I had had enough.
"That's it," I said, coughing once again. I raised my bandanna just high enough so I could spit against the wall. "I'm done. Let's get the hell out of here."
"Nate," Tammy said before I cut her off.
"Do we have pictures? Enough pictures?" Tammy shrugged.
"Yeah, I'm probably fine with that I have. Gene?"
"Sure," Gene said, stepping up and leaning over the top of one of the bookshelves. "I'm good."
"Thank you," I said before unceremoniously stomping back towards the door.

As if my calm wasn't ruined enough, I then found the book I had propped to keep the door open splayed open on the ground; the door had shut on itself. I sighed audibly and turned to my friends.
"Okay, which of you assholes moved the book?!" I said sternly. Gene took immediate offence.
"Alright, Nate, first chill," he said, "and I didn't touch your damn book." I turned to Tammy, whose wide and innocent eyes met my gaze.
"Nate," she said, "...I've been on this side of the store this entire time..." I rolled my eyes, swore under my breath, and reached for the doorknob.

The door wouldn't open. The knob turned, the door latch pulled open and the door would give in ever so slightly... but the padlock latch on the outside of the door seemed as secure as when we had first arrived...