National Novel Writer's Month

The drops of blood led to the service elevator I’d always assumed was broken because it had been flanked with the same sort of caution tape we use in the field to show the boundaries of a dig site. The tape, ripped in two, now littered the tile floor like a forgotten party streamer. I’d never put any thought into the specifics of the elevator, but when I looked up I noticed that one of the arrows above the doors was lit, which I’d never seen before- I only noticed it now because the only other lights in the room were the glow of the open refrigerator and the fluorescent light coming in from the corridor. I’d also never noticed that instead of the normal arrows indicating up and down, this elevator had one arrow pointing down and one pointing sideways. It was this arrow that was shining brightly against the garishly green wall of the laboratory office.