Rook

to turn sideways to descend. She took a breath, willing herself not to develop sudden claustrophobia, and then started down into the darkness.
    W hat wanker designed this?” Myfanwy wondered aloud as she climbed carefully down the staircase. She was uncertain how many stories she had gone down, but she had to be running out of Hammerstrom Building to descend through. Her legs were killing her, and she had scraped her back several times as the shaft narrowed. It was obvious that it had been made to accommodate the vagaries of the building rather than the comfort of the person using it. By the time she reached the bottom, Myfanwy was dusty, abraded, and deeply annoyed. She was partially mollified, however, by the discovery of a light switch to the side of the stairs.
    “Lovely decor,” she said as fluorescent lights hesitantly flickered on. The corridor was perfectly square and led away in both directions. The walls were cinder block, and the floor, under a covering of dust, was unfinished concrete. Myfanwy saw with a little thrill of dread that there were scuffed footprints in the dust leading away from the base of the stairs. She drew the gun. Then she set off down the passageway, following in her own footsteps.
    It was clear that, despite her self-performed brain surgery, Thomas had been deteriorating as she stumbled down this corridor. Here she had fallen to her knees and had to put her hands down to push herself up. Myfanwy paused and put her hand down in the print contemplatively. Farther along, there were small patches of blood on the floor, and Myfanwy lightly touched her own knees, recalling how they had been skinned when she first saw herself in the mirror. She searched her mind, looking for some feeling of déjà vu. Nothing.
    As she walked along cautiously, the silence bothered her. How deep had she gone? It felt like she had climbed down the stairs forever, but without any indicators it was impossible to know. Still, according to Ingrid, this bizarre passageway led to a garage. So she moved forward.
    Aside from the mustiness, there was something unpleasant in the air.
What is that smell?
wondered Myfanwy. It tickled a place in the back of her head—not a memory, but something instinctive. The tunnel ahead bent at a sharp right angle, and she slowed cautiously. The smell grew stronger, and she felt her throat tighten in a manner that suggested vomiting was a distinct possibility.
    This is ridiculous,
she thought.
I’m possessed of terrifying powers. Why am I relying on a ridiculous little gun that I picked because I thought it was cute? I don’t need this thing.
She threw it contemptuously over her shoulder.
Damn right! I took out a house of weird fungal cultists that had devoured three teams of supernatural SWAT teams. I am a badass.
She paused and expanded her senses outward, searching for any kind of life.
Okay, nothing. At least,
she thought uneasily,
nothing that I can detect. But then why does it smell so bad down here? There’s something foul wandering the underground tunnels beneath my office, something that’s invisible to my vaunted powers.
    Crap.
    Where’s my gun?
    After backtracking, Myfanwy picked up her gun from the dust and listened carefully. Deathly silence. Feeling slightly absurd but still scared, she held her gun in two hands and jumped smoothly around the corner, landing in a position that implied she was prepared to open fire on whatever she saw.
    “Oh, thank God.”
Not to worry, it’s not a weird monster. It’s just three rotting dead people,
she thought as she threw up on her cute little gun. After wiping her mouth and then shaking the pistol to clear some vomit off it, she approached the corpses cautiously. All of them were dressed in purple garments, though they were now sodden in body fluids.
Nasty.
    One of the bodies lay a little way off from the other two, and Myfanwy could see from the two large holes in his chest that he had been shot.
I guess he was shot by the other guy. The one who appears to have—yes, he seems to have shot himself,
she thought.
Judging by the massive handgun he is holding against the side of his head. The half of the head that is remaining
.
    Oh-kay, so let me think this through. Thomas is trying to get away through this corridor. Then these guys appear, coming from the other direction. They think she’s going to be completely out of it, all drugged up or whatever. Plus, she’s notoriously powerless. So they grab her, and she makes one of