The darkness was thick, like black paint poured over a canvas. Glisson couldn’t see anything or anyone. He wasn’t complaining, though, because it worked to his advantage. It meant no one could see him as well. Hence, no one could surprise him with a kill shot at the back of his head.
A soft breeze blew his way, carrying with it the smell of decay and despair. The smell was awful enough to make his nose twitch. Glisson held still and hoped he didn’t sneeze. After a few seconds, the urge passed, and he relaxed a fraction.
Waiting was not his favorite pastime activity. And he had already been doing it for a good part of an hour. Another breeze traveled through the tunnel from its open end twenty feet away. Instinctively, he held his breath until he was certain the smell had settled back dow
