Mac Lunkey

Pyre

Eugene knelt down by a broken egress window and shined his flashlight into the dingy basement. The beam cut through the darkness, illuminating a barren, filthy concrete husk of a room. Eugene looked over his shoulder, through his visor, nodded at Amy, then climbed through. He landed in the basement with a thud. Eugene heard a soft scratch and whipped his light around. Two mice, squeaking madly, scurried behind a pile of trashed furniture and rotting books in the corner of the basement. He turned back and watched as Amy limped over and, nursing her left foot, slid through the window.