With grunts and muffled cries the two tumbled through darkness, coming to rest in an uneven bed of decay. Breath came rough as fear of asphixiation fought displeasure at the stench of the place.

“You alive, Kay?”

“More or less, hon.”

A scritch and a fizz preceeded the meager light of a single match. Its dull light wavered along a long corridor, reflected off damp bricks and sagging cobwebs. The floor rippled with shadow.

Kay gasped, “The floor…oh, Max! They’re bodies!”

“Shh,” Max soothed as the flame snuffed itself out against his rough fingers. In the dark he offered by way of distraction, “You know, they say the dead tell tales if we will but listen. We can learn from them. The trick is to be still and appreciate the message they offer.”

After a quiet moment in the oppressive dark, Kay whispered behind a sob, “I hear them.”

More afraid to let that go than he was to ask, Max said cautiously, “What do they say, hon?”

Barely a squeak came the response, “No hope.“