“Cricket! Don’t do that!” I hissed to my friend & neighbor Arty, who, for some reason, insisted on being called Cricket. He was on exchange from the NY PD observing our local Martial Department, of which I was part.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to,” he whispered back, grinning. “I couldn’t help but follow when I heard what was going down in Lin’s apartment. I was curious.”
“Nosy neighbor,” I scolded, sliding over the floor cautiously.
“I can’t help it if apartment walls are made of tissues!” he whined, still smirking.
After my run-in, my ears were still kicked up, hearing every little noise, every little breath. I tested every step on the old floor; you can never trust the floors in abandoned buildings to be stable. Ever.
I couldn’t help being paranoid, but I had this annoying feeling something was this close to going horribly wrong. “Hey, I see a light over there.” Cricket started towards a shaft of light coming between two floorboards.
“Cricket, no!” I yelled as he plumeted in a shower of dust and splinters.

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