“Do you ladies need an invitation?” echoed Stu from down the first flight. The stairwell was grey concrete with exposed piping and wiring. The emergency lighting was long dead. I put on my spelunker’s headlight, as did Ed. Stu produced his night vision.

We could see now, but we could also smell. The odor that filled the stairwell seemed to emanate from Hell itself, although I have never smelled Hell, it must be at least this bad. The stink contained a strong strain of rot, a moldy stench and something which bit hard in the nasal passages, perhaps sulfur from dung? Death was baked in there as well, we knew that.

Our footsteps echoed off the sweaty walls as we reached the first landing. A white sign 33 informed us how far down we had to go. We had come through here every week or so to forage down below. We needed food, batteries and anything we could scavenge for the greater good of The Council.

More than anything, I wanted to find a scanner or short wave radio. The 9th floor beckoned below.