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With my trusty trowel and Nocturnal’s epically long fingernails, the sod over the cellar door is scraped away quickly. “Edwards! Green! Help me lift the trapdoor. Johnson… uh, you just keep watching the trees. DON’T SHOOT ANYTHING WITHOUT MY ORDERS!
The door is stiff, the wood swollen with moisture. Together we pull…
“ONE, TWO, THREE, HEAVE!”
The door gives. By which I mean, it pulls open part way, and then crumbles.
“All right, let’s go. Everyone in. Go, go, go!! JOHNSON!! What the hell, man! FOrget the ****ing trees… get your bum into the cellar NOW!” Log in to see images! |
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| Posted On: 07/15/2008 6:13PM |
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