chapter 83

Silence greeted them. Quincy stared down into the abyss before them, squinting his eyes, prepared to see Elise emerge before them with a gun that wouldn't fail her that time. Slowly, he took a step, and the staircase creaked loudly beneath him. It would give anyone time to prepare a gun.

Large beams of light ripped through the thick darkness as the men turned on the torches in their hands.

Another step— an even louder creak. Quincy descended lower and lower, and a damp and earthy smell filled his nostrils. The walls were peeling, and the floor was unswept. Lots of stuff he had dumped in the basement were coated with dust, and tangled with webs that were as thick as the dust themselves. Tables, chairs, barrels, an old guitar that lay unused, and more cobwebs hanging down the ceiling.

Bertha sneezed, and Quincy turned.

“I'm allergic to dust.” She said, and sneezed again, her eyes watering.

“I think you should leave then,” Quincy suggested, and taking one large sweep of the bas