Claws? Are we expecting monsters? Well, I know Adams is....
Claws The tunnel between the building was short but felt long. The light from the airfield bunker illuminated the first metre or so and then gave up completely, and while there was a dim light ahead spilling through the broken brick wall it illuminated even less, leaving most of the tunnel too dark for Collins to see where he was putting his feet. He concentrated on setting each foot down and checking he had good footing. He didn’t want to put his hands out to the side for fear of what he might touch, and he found himself staring down in the unrelenting blackness even though staring ahead into the blackness would have been just as effective. The floor felt rough underfoot, slightly uneven, and now and then the soles of his police boots scuffed as though he was switching from mud to stone or brick. The squeaking got a little louder as they walked through, and the ammoniacal smell got stronger, but the bats seemed content to let them pass. As they neared the brick wall Adams sped up suddenly, moving quickly but still quietly and almost flung herself through the break in the brickwork. Beyond the brickwork was an L-shaped concrete floored room with brick walls and large, red-painted doors off to the left, down the long arm of the L. Brown cardboard boxes had clearly been moved around as there were tracks in the dust, and some of them had broken open from the treatment. Leaflets advertising the Crisis centre, and others advertising its telephone hotline, spilled out in colourful drifts. Some broken chairs were stacked up in the corner of the L and next to them were a row of what looked like rolled-up yoga mats. Near the broken wall were two blue plastic bins each half-filled with what looked like metal claws. Collins picked one up and turned it over in his hands, until suddenly the shape made sense and he recognised ice-climbing crampons. He tossed it back, and looked around again; finding a stack of fencing foils, some tattered rucksacks and a pile of hiking boots. The Crisis centre appeared to have had an active sports programme. “Storage again,” said Adams. Her voice was just a little bit shaky, and she sounded almost disappointed. “I suppose the device will be through those doors.” “No,” said the Inspectral. “The device is upstairs in the meeting room; they had a ground floor room where they held their large meetings and their annual board meeting. The device was installed in there and took up nearly three-quarters of it.” “So why did they come down here?” “They brought something in,” said Collins. The Inspectral turned his head to look at him and Collins noticed, with just a twinge of discomfort, that the Inspectral could move like an owl, and his head was turned far beyond human abilities. He felt pressured to go on. “We saw the dolly in the other room and the tracks in the dust; they moved something heavy from the airfield to here.” “A replacement part, perhaps?” The Inspectral sounded as though he was talking to himself, and Collins was content to listen. Adams had moved away from the hole in the wall and was now watching it as though monsters were likely to emerge from it. “If it didn’t work last time because something was broken, and they’re got a replacement part for it… bringing it by air isn’t a stupid idea. We might have noticed a large van or truck driving around. There’s no lift in the Crisis centre, of course, so they’ll have to carry it between them up the stairs. That will have slowed them a little. Come on.” “Shouldn’t we wait for the PFE?” Adams was already backing away from the hole in the bricks towards the red doors as she spoke. “He’s old enough to look after himself,” said the Inspectral. “Ugly enough, too.”
Greg - I just thought claws was enough of a bat related word for you to work with.
Ah, the chase is on indeed. Enjoying the interplay between these three, now that it's just them again. And I like that the Inspectral managed to sneak in a shot at Ethel at the end there :)
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Claws? Are we expecting monsters? Well, I know Adams is....
Claws
The tunnel between the building was short but felt long. The light from the airfield bunker illuminated the first metre or so and then gave up completely, and while there was a dim light ahead spilling through the broken brick wall it illuminated even less, leaving most of the tunnel too dark for Collins to see where he was putting his feet. He concentrated on setting each foot down and checking he had good footing. He didn’t want to put his hands out to the side for fear of what he might touch, and he found himself staring down in the unrelenting blackness even though staring ahead into the blackness would have been just as effective. The floor felt rough underfoot, slightly uneven, and now and then the soles of his police boots scuffed as though he was switching from mud to stone or brick. The squeaking got a little louder as they walked through, and the ammoniacal smell got stronger, but the bats seemed content to let them pass. As they neared the brick wall Adams sped up suddenly, moving quickly but still quietly and almost flung herself through the break in the brickwork.
Beyond the brickwork was an L-shaped concrete floored room with brick walls and large, red-painted doors off to the left, down the long arm of the L. Brown cardboard boxes had clearly been moved around as there were tracks in the dust, and some of them had broken open from the treatment. Leaflets advertising the Crisis centre, and others advertising its telephone hotline, spilled out in colourful drifts. Some broken chairs were stacked up in the corner of the L and next to them were a row of what looked like rolled-up yoga mats. Near the broken wall were two blue plastic bins each half-filled with what looked like metal claws. Collins picked one up and turned it over in his hands, until suddenly the shape made sense and he recognised ice-climbing crampons. He tossed it back, and looked around again; finding a stack of fencing foils, some tattered rucksacks and a pile of hiking boots. The Crisis centre appeared to have had an active sports programme.
“Storage again,” said Adams. Her voice was just a little bit shaky, and she sounded almost disappointed. “I suppose the device will be through those doors.”
“No,” said the Inspectral. “The device is upstairs in the meeting room; they had a ground floor room where they held their large meetings and their annual board meeting. The device was installed in there and took up nearly three-quarters of it.”
“So why did they come down here?”
“They brought something in,” said Collins. The Inspectral turned his head to look at him and Collins noticed, with just a twinge of discomfort, that the Inspectral could move like an owl, and his head was turned far beyond human abilities. He felt pressured to go on. “We saw the dolly in the other room and the tracks in the dust; they moved something heavy from the airfield to here.”
“A replacement part, perhaps?” The Inspectral sounded as though he was talking to himself, and Collins was content to listen. Adams had moved away from the hole in the wall and was now watching it as though monsters were likely to emerge from it. “If it didn’t work last time because something was broken, and they’re got a replacement part for it… bringing it by air isn’t a stupid idea. We might have noticed a large van or truck driving around. There’s no lift in the Crisis centre, of course, so they’ll have to carry it between them up the stairs. That will have slowed them a little. Come on.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for the PFE?” Adams was already backing away from the hole in the bricks towards the red doors as she spoke.
“He’s old enough to look after himself,” said the Inspectral. “Ugly enough, too.”
Greg - I just thought claws was enough of a bat related word for you to work with.
Ah, the chase is on indeed. Enjoying the interplay between these three, now that it's just them again. And I like that the Inspectral managed to sneak in a shot at Ethel at the end there :)
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