The tunnel wasn't quite tall enough for them to walk upright. Martin's legs soon burned from crouching, but he couldn't hold the shotgun properly bent over. He'd left the axe in the cellar. There would be no room to use it here. The air was close and humid, and sweat kept running into his eyes. He blinked it away. He wasn't taking his hands off the shotgun.
Breathe in, breathe out, he told himself. Stay centered; alert but calm. Watch for any foreign feelings.
The tunnel smelled strange but also familiar. It smelled like the dried sausage that Billy's dad had made. They hung in the cellar. The meat was so dry that it couldn't go bad. Martin used to love that sausage. Then Martin's dad had bought a lot of the sausage, more than they could eat in a lifetime. And he'd invited Billy to go
