Nicholle and Chris climbed a set of crumbling concrete steps to a squat building. The woman followed, holding the gun on both of them.
Shutters hung from windows, looking as if they might fall to the ground at any moment. The windows held screens that had large holes, offering an unobstructed view of broken glass panes. Nicholle shuddered to think what lay beyond that.
The grey door creaked as Chris opened it, and a strong odor of must blasted out. Nicholle began to cough, breathing in the dust whirling up. Her loud hacks echoed in the dim, empty hallway. She then sneezed loudly, twice, and wished her medinites would hurry and sweep away the offending material from her lungs and sinuses.
Chris must have thought Nicholle’s coughing fit an appropriate time to go for Thia’s gun, because he
