"What is it?" "I told you to wait." "You said 'hang on'. Totally different thing." I peered roofward too, but could make nothing out. The strong smell of burnt things was in the air. Wood. Carpet. Brick. You wouldn't think that bricks would burn, or that they'd have a smell, but they do. I hate it that I know that. There was the faint smell of other things. Organic things. I worked on blanking that out. "What is it?" I asked again. "Someone's here," said Gary, and hauled on the door. It opened with a squeak of complaint. Soot crumbled away from the frame. Gary stepped cautiously towards the stairs while I allowed my sight to adjust to the gloom. It didn't look so bad from here. Smoke and water damage, sure, but structurally intact thus far. The stairs down to the bar felt stable. Nevertheless, I tried to step as precisely in Gary's wake as I could. As we reached the bottom, I detected the sound of indistinct voices that Gary had already heard. One voice was an irritated burr, the second commenting in short, clipped bursts.
