The felt wrapped around Julian Vance’s boots pressed flat against the dark oak floorboards.
Eighteen decibels.
That was the sound of his first step into the 4th-Floor Midnight Study Hall. It was softer than a dry leaf brushing across asphalt, but in the vast, vaulted stillness of the room, every vibration felt amplified.
Behind him, Elena Rostova slipped through the narrow gap between the double doors. Her right hand remained steady on the leather strap of her emergency medical kit, keeping the brass buckles pressed firmly against her ribs. Lin Mei followed close behind, holding her breath until her round cheeks flushed pink, her yellow wax-chalk slate pressed tight against her chest.
Julian caught the edge of the heavy oak door with his fingertips, checking the closing swing. The brass hydraulic damper hissed softly, catching the door three inches before the frame. The latch reseated into the brass strike plate with a cushioned click that barely nudged twelve decibels.
Above their heads, thirty feet up in the shadows of the roof trusses, the black indicator needle of the Bogen decibel meter hovered at twenty-four point six decibels.
Twenty-four point six decibels was the baseline noise of four hundred students writing for their lives.
