Ah, you want murder hornets to go with the bats! Let me see what I can do then :)
Buzzing Collins was expecting the Inspectral to at least poke his head through the doors to see what was on the other side, but instead he instructed Collins to crack the doors open slowly and gently, holding them firmly in case they had a tendancy to swing or there was something propped against the other side. The door was heavy but well-hinged and the lights on the other side were on, making it easy to see that the only thing out there was— “Timothy!” Collins managed to remember to keep his voice down, but his surprise and pleasure rang through. Timothy looked up and then pressed his head against the door, pushing it open, and Collins found his feet sliding on the smooth concrete floor as the Garmr forced his way into the room. “I wondered if he’d find you,” said the Inspectral quietly, and Collins looked up from saying hello to the Garmr trying to work out if there was approval there or not. “He’d better stay quiet,” said Adams. She was looking round the corner of the door, which she’d pushed back to ajar. “There’s no-one out there.” “Well obviously,” said Collins before he could stop himself. She looked back at him, a quick, cold glance. “I mean, Timothy would have alerted us,” he finished, wondering if that was really true. “Let’s go,” said the Inspectral. “We really don’t know how much time we have.” The basement of the Crisis centre was poured concrete and a wide flight of stairs formed a square spiral leading down from above. Metal bannisters flanked both sides of the staircase, which descended into the middle of the basement area, topped with red plastic. Collins paused near the foot of the stairs and looked up: the open nature of the spiral meant he could see some of the upper floor. Lights were on there as well, but all seemed still and quiet. “Go first,” he said to Timothy, gesturing, and the Garmr bounded up the stairs. His claws clicked on the concrete, but no voices raised, no-one seemed to be inclined to investigate where a large grey dog might have come from all of a sudden. Collins climbed the stairs after the Garmr, feeling tense and constantly looking up and around, listening hard for any additional noises. The loudest thing he could hear was the thumping of his heart in his chest. As he rounded the last corner and was now visible to anyone looking at the stairs, no chance even to hide in the shadows at the side, he felt his breath catch in his chest, but the ground floor was silent and quiet still. This floor had several doors around the well of the staircase and the area looked like it was probably used for parties and general chitchat; the corridors were wide and well-lit and there were even a couple of metal, folding chairs set against the bannisters at the far side of the well, away from the staircase. There was a faint smell of baked flour in the air making Collins think of biscuits in the oven when he was a child. He moved away from the staircase and stood discretely at the side of the nearest door: a tall, narrow rectangular window set with reinforced glass allowed him to peek inside the room. It was dark but seemed to be empty. “Offices,” said the Inspectral quietly. He pointed round the nearest corner. “That way.” Round the corner were a pair of fire-doors on hydraulic retarders which closed off a short corridor before two more doors. One of those doors was standing open and when Collins pushed the fire doors open just a little, fragments of conversation became audible along with a soft buzzing noise.
2 comments:
Ah, you want murder hornets to go with the bats! Let me see what I can do then :)
Buzzing
Collins was expecting the Inspectral to at least poke his head through the doors to see what was on the other side, but instead he instructed Collins to crack the doors open slowly and gently, holding them firmly in case they had a tendancy to swing or there was something propped against the other side. The door was heavy but well-hinged and the lights on the other side were on, making it easy to see that the only thing out there was—
“Timothy!” Collins managed to remember to keep his voice down, but his surprise and pleasure rang through. Timothy looked up and then pressed his head against the door, pushing it open, and Collins found his feet sliding on the smooth concrete floor as the Garmr forced his way into the room.
“I wondered if he’d find you,” said the Inspectral quietly, and Collins looked up from saying hello to the Garmr trying to work out if there was approval there or not.
“He’d better stay quiet,” said Adams. She was looking round the corner of the door, which she’d pushed back to ajar. “There’s no-one out there.”
“Well obviously,” said Collins before he could stop himself. She looked back at him, a quick, cold glance. “I mean, Timothy would have alerted us,” he finished, wondering if that was really true.
“Let’s go,” said the Inspectral. “We really don’t know how much time we have.”
The basement of the Crisis centre was poured concrete and a wide flight of stairs formed a square spiral leading down from above. Metal bannisters flanked both sides of the staircase, which descended into the middle of the basement area, topped with red plastic. Collins paused near the foot of the stairs and looked up: the open nature of the spiral meant he could see some of the upper floor. Lights were on there as well, but all seemed still and quiet.
“Go first,” he said to Timothy, gesturing, and the Garmr bounded up the stairs. His claws clicked on the concrete, but no voices raised, no-one seemed to be inclined to investigate where a large grey dog might have come from all of a sudden. Collins climbed the stairs after the Garmr, feeling tense and constantly looking up and around, listening hard for any additional noises. The loudest thing he could hear was the thumping of his heart in his chest. As he rounded the last corner and was now visible to anyone looking at the stairs, no chance even to hide in the shadows at the side, he felt his breath catch in his chest, but the ground floor was silent and quiet still.
This floor had several doors around the well of the staircase and the area looked like it was probably used for parties and general chitchat; the corridors were wide and well-lit and there were even a couple of metal, folding chairs set against the bannisters at the far side of the well, away from the staircase. There was a faint smell of baked flour in the air making Collins think of biscuits in the oven when he was a child. He moved away from the staircase and stood discretely at the side of the nearest door: a tall, narrow rectangular window set with reinforced glass allowed him to peek inside the room. It was dark but seemed to be empty.
“Offices,” said the Inspectral quietly. He pointed round the nearest corner. “That way.”
Round the corner were a pair of fire-doors on hydraulic retarders which closed off a short corridor before two more doors. One of those doors was standing open and when Collins pushed the fire doors open just a little, fragments of conversation became audible along with a soft buzzing noise.
Greg - no. Just... no.
Ooh, this is delightfully well written. The hunters are closing in on the hunted. But what comes next? I am eager to find out.
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