Bad Moon over Rock Hollow
Part 2

A Round Robin Story
by Flah7, J Brooks, NotTasha, Sablecain, Tipper, Violette
email the authors, let them know what you think

27)  "Bantos Rods (fighting sticks)"- Sablecain 

Vin stared at the crazed man atop the rubble of the newspaper building, his aim not wavering as the lunatic waved the lit dynamite about.  Tanner debated shooting the fool, but feared the dynamite would go flying and kill them all regardless.

"Yer all gonna die now!  How do you like that, Larabee?"

"Hey, Cowboy?" Vin asked calmly, his grip tightening on his mare's leg.

"What?" Chris growled from below.

"What the hell did you do to this guy anyway? Kill his brother?"

The wild man must have heard the question. "Larabee stole my woman!"

In spite of himself, Vin grinned.  "You sure you ain't looking for Buck Wilmington?"

Neville Wild screamed and hurled the stick of dynamite at Vin.

Tanner watched the stick flip through the air twice before landing with a loud plop in a growing puddle of water running through the torn up alley.  The fuse flickered twice and fizzled, but stayed lit even as the dynamite bobbed down the way and disappeared around the corner and into the street.

Everything seemed to stop as they watched and waited. After a moment there was a low, rumbling explosion. The earth shook and townspeople could be heard screaming, but the men in the alley were unaffected.

Vin glanced back at Wild, expecting the man to start shooting at him again, but instead Neville began pawing through the rubble, suddenly coming up with what looked like broom stick that'd lost its end. With a sly grin, Wild snapped the stick over his knee and began to wave the two pieces about his head and body.

Vin frowned and cocked his head to the side, dumbfounded.

"What's going on?" Chris demanded.

"This guy's swinging sticks around.  Must have lost his gun?" Vin had never seen anything like it. The sticks twirled and whirled through the rain and the wind in almost hypnotic patterns.  "For an big guy, he's kind of graceful," Tanner admitted, then he realized that Wild was climbing down off the collapsed building and advancing towards him.

"Drop your gun and fight me fair and square.  You can't protect Larabee. I will be vindicated!" Wild ranted above the rain and the whooshing sticks.

Vin's side twinged painfully even as he thought about it, then he shook his head. "To hell with that," he raised his weapon and fired.

28) "Immunity" - NotTasha

Neville had managed to position himself just below a swaying sign at the front of the blown-out newspaper office.  The sign creaked and swayed on its post, only half attached after the explosion.  And, with unerring accuracy, Vin's shot blew through the only chain that still kept the sign aloft.  The heavy board came crashing down, missing Neville by a cat's whisker.

"Nuts," Vin grumbled as he reloaded and Neville scuttled away, laughing.  The man was insane, and all Vin's teachings among the native people reminded him that it was bad luck to kill someone who wasn't right in the head.  A 'touched-one' carried an aurora that exempted him from usual punishment.  Tanner couldn't outright shoot the crazy son of a bitch, but a little coincidence of a falling sign might have done the job.

He frowned as Neville disappeared into the "Law Offices of Bond and Wolfe". He wanted to run after him, but his side felt as if it was about to tear him in two.  He knew he wouldn't go far. 

Neville had already been shot twice and showed no sign of slowing.  He'd handled those sticks as if he wasn't hurt in the slightest.  It might have been the drink keeping him going – or the urge for revenge -- but it was apparent that the man was powerful strong and terrible crazy.

Vin couldn't take him in his current state.  Besides, something was wrong with Ezra.

Chris was obviously torn.  He was still trying to dig the unresponsive Standish out of the haystack-sized wreckage, but Ezra remained stuck as Larabee's eyes tracked after Wild.

"Go get him," Vin told him.  "I'll keep an eye on this one."

Chris tipped his head as a thank you as he stood.  Clutching his wounded arm with one hand, he kept a grip on Ezra's Remington with the other, and ducked into the dim lawyers' office.  Vin watched his unsteady gait, and hoped for the best.

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"Now, ladies," Buck crooned, shuffling out of Pandora's voluminous yellow skirts.  Nathan was currently lost in Mary's yards of lime-green.  "We can come to a reasonable conclusion, can't we?"  And he oozed through the mud, away from the two stunned women as he clutched at his aching arm.

The rabble kept him from moving far.

"That one shot the deputy!" one voice shouted out of the rain, pointing a shaky finger at Nathan.

"No he didn't," another man returned.  "I saw it.  The shot came from yonder." And he gestured emphatically.

"But they're with Larabee!" the first man countered.  "They're out to kill our lawmen!"

"And blow up the town!" a woman shrilled.

"And shoot up the place!" another woman added with an annoyed tone.  "Just take a look at those holes."

"They made all our livestock run off!" someone else put in.

"Probably caused all this rain too," a young man stated glumly, looking upward and getting a face-full of wet for his action.

"I got the gout!" an old man grumbled.

"They burned out our dressmakers!" included a man lighting a big cigar.  "That ain't right.  'Specially with Mary bein' so ill lately." 

The crowd surrounded them, and Buck looked around cautiously.  There were just too many people.  He gave Nathan a kick because the man had barely moved from his nest in Mary's dress.  The woman remained laid out, snuffling and twitching and clearing her throat with Nathan's face planted in her bosoms.  Her scissors were plunged into the mud beside her.

"She looks darn horrible," a young man commented, swinging a pendulum at his side.  He'd managed to finally knock the chicken off his shoulder, but Buck could see it peering out from around a nearby hitching post, ready for its next chance at assaulting the man.  "I mean, she was never a looker to begin with, but gawd, Mary, you really let yourself go."

Pandora shot up and glared at the crowd.  "Ain't her fault.  She got a sickness from her trip to Boggy Creek.  Been layin' her up real bad."

Someone from the back of the crowd shouted, "Boggy Creek?  They got fever there!"  And the whole congregation took a step back.  They still clutched their stones and sticks, staying in close enough range to strike, but out of fair Mary's reach.

"Nate! Nate!" Buck called urgently as he moved back toward Jackson.  "Nate!  Get up!  That lady you're usin' as a pillow might have some fever!  You're gonna get it, too!"

"S'okay," Nathan returned, his face muffled by satin and Mary.  "I got fevers as a child."  He didn't really move, and Mary, who was quite awake now, didn't seem to be pushing him away.  In fact, she seemed to be petting him and cooing softly.

Nate went on,  "Had plenty of fevers over time.  I don't catch colds no more." "Everything is fine," he added dreamily as they lay out in the mud as blood ran along one side of his head.  The rain continuing to fall as the unhappy crowd formed a circle around them. 

29) "James Bond" - Tipper

Chris stopped in the doorway of the office, partially protected behind the door and a large barrister's bookcase, eyes blinking into the dim light.  With the rain pouring down outside, and, if possible, the sky getting darker above it, it was as close to night as you could get.  The room was nearly pitch black, as a result

Sort of fitting for a law office.

"Wild," he called out, Ezra's gun gripped tightly in his shaking hand.  His right arm was beginning to go numb, which was bad.

Something shifted off to the side behind the desk, and Chris pointed his gun at it.

"Come out," he ordered. "It's no good hiding, Wild."

"Don't shoot!" a voice whimpered weakly. "Please! Don't shoot."

Chris frowned, lowering the gun slightly.

A shiny bald head appeared, and soon a pair of very scared shining eyes, pupils nearly black in the rain-light.  He stopped there, the rest of him staying hidden.

"Who're you?" Chris demanded.

"Bond!" the man replied. "James Bond!"  His brow furrowed. "Who're you?"

"Larabee." 

Bond's eyebrows lifted, and he nodded.  "Oh."  He nodded again, more vigorously. "They say you shot the sheriff."

"I didn't."  Chris trailed his gun across the rest of the room.  He stopped when he finally spotted another door, and frowned. 

"I know."

"Did you see another man run…."  Chris stopped abruptly, the other man's statement registering.  He blinked and looked at Bond more appraisingly. "Wait, what did you say?"

"I said," Bond sniffed, "that I know."

"How?"

"Because I was spying on the sheriff earlier.  I think my partner's been bribing him, so that he wins more cases.  And since I'm the only other lawyer in town, and typically on the other side…." Bond sniffed, looking very sad.  "I mean, odds alone say I should be winning at least half the cases, right?  But I'm not, so…."

Chris frowned.  "Right.  Then you saw what happened with the sheriff?"

"Yeah."

"Then you know the guy I'm chasing is the one who shot the sheriff. "

 "No."

"But—"

"The person who shot the sheriff was my partner, Warlord Wolfe.  I saw him take the shot when you all were pinned down—taking advantage of the situation, as always."

Chris just blinked.  "Are you sure?"

"Saw it with my own two eyes," Bond promised, nodding vigorously.  Chris wished he could see more of the man's face, so he could better tell if he were being lied to or not. 

"Where's your partner now?"

"In the back room," Bond replied, pointing towards the far door with a shaking finger. "With the guy you're chasing.  And, um," Bond smiled weakly. "There's another door leading out to the back of the building.  They're probably long gone now."

Chris's gaze narrowed.  Not likely, he thought darkly.  He strode to the far door and pressed his ear to it.  He didn't hear anything, but then, you never knew.

He glanced back at Bond, who was still watching him over the top of the desk, eyes still very shiny.

"Bond."

"Yeah?"

"Do me a favor and try to stay alive for a while.  You might start by ducking down again."

"Will do," the bald man replied, already disappearing from view.

Chris smirked, and then pressed his hand to the handle just as a streak of lightning lit up the room like a muzzle-flash.  The storm was getting worse.  Next boom he would hear would be thunder…he hoped. 

30)  "Connections are made slowly; sometimes they grow underground" - J Brooks

Buck swiped rainwater out of his eyes and tried to reason with the mob.

"Now you know we didn't shoot the deputy. Stands to reason we didn't shoot the sheriff either, right?" he peered hopefully around the ring of surly faces, looking for someone with a lick of sense.

Finding none, he gave Nathan a nudge with his boot. The healer just snuggled deeper onto the dressmaker's corseted bosom.

The mob had both ends of the alley blocked. No way out there, unless he wanted to shoot his way through a crowd of idiot civilians.  Buck's eyes fell on the door of a root cellar almost hidden by Mary's ruffled skirts.

"Look," he tried again, reaching down and taking a good hold on Nathan's collar. "There's a crazy fella loose in your town with dynamite and the longer we stand here jawing, the more likely it is he's...gonna...?"

Buck's voice trailed off as all eyes turned to the storm water burbling down the alley gutter like a small stream -- and the hissing stick of dynamite bobbing merrily on the tide.

The townsfolk let out a bellow of alarm and took to their heels.  Buck hauled a protesting Nathan to his feet, yanked open the cellar door and shoved him down, then repeated the maneuver on the two shrieking seamstresses. He jumped in behind them just as another almighty blast went off.

The concussion threw him down the wooden stairs to land in a heap on something...huh.  Not too uncomfortable. More comfortable than crinolines, anyway.  He felt around the soft material until he hit the side of Nathan's head. The healer swatted his hands away with an irritated huff.

A dull red glow filtered through the cracks in the cellar door above as one of the buildings that bordered the alley ignited.  Buck hoped it wasn't the building directly over their heads.

There was enough light for Buck to spot a lantern hanging from a wall peg nearby.  After some fumbling, he managed to get it lighted and take a proper look around.

His jaw dropped.

"Why do you think we named the town Rock Hollow? The whole town's built on top of a natural system of caves and tunnels," Pandora said, glancing up from her attempts to pat her hair back into place.  "They link just about every building in town.  Make a wonderful storage space."

Her sister Mary was cooing over Nathan, whose head she had pulled back into her lap.  Nathan beamed hazily, not opening his eyes. She patted at the bleeding head wound with a lace handkerchief, clucking and sniffling.

Buck turned in a slow circle, lantern raised high. The rock tunnels stretched as far as he could see in every direction, branching off and doubling back. Mundane piles of dry goods were heaped everywhere -- crates, barrels, shelves of pickles and canned peaches, bolts of fabric and rolls of carpet like the pile Buck had landed on.

At regular intervals, there were rickety wooden staircases leading up to hollowed-out exits in the cave ceilings and cellar doors leading back out onto the street.

"Do you know if this leads to--" Buck started to ask.

He was cut off by the sound of a godawful crash, clatter, and muffled cursing echoing out of the darkness.

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Ezra blinked sluggishly, jolted awake by the distant explosion and the unpleasant sensation of water seeping into his ear canal.

Rain drops trickled down through the massive debris pile above him, dripping down onto his face maddeningly.  He tried to shift out of the way, but hissed as his shoulder and pinned leg protested. In the dim light, he could make out the jagged shapes of broken boards and clapboard siding and torn bits of newspaper.

He frowned, knowing something was missing from the picture that ought to have been there.

"Chris?" he called, his voice a hoarse croak in his own ears.   Hadn't Larabee been down here with him?  In fact, hadn't he been *under* him?  He had a distinct memory of Larabee's knees digging unpleasantly into his abdomen as the big lawman tried to wriggle out of their predicament.  But things had gotten rather hazy after that.

"Mr. Larabee?" he tried again, louder this time.  He gave a fretful shove at the wooden beam that was pinning his leg.

The wooden pile let out an ominous groan.

There was ruckus overhead, and Ezra hissed as the weight on his leg suddenly increased, then eased, as somebody clambered up the debris.

A large shadow appeared at the opening above, blocking the light as well as the rain. Ezra squinted up at the silhouette and tried to remember where he'd lost his guns.

A large hand reached down toward him, searching.

"Ezra?" a voice boomed down. The hand vanished and a small avalanche of debris went sliding off the pile. The hand stretched down again, closer now.

Josiah? Ezra blinked, What in blazes was Josiah doing here?

Tentatively, not quite trusting his senses, he stretched his good arm upward, trying to reach Josiah. Their fingertips were almost close enough to touch.

With one last warning creak, the wooden surface Ezra had been lying on gave way. Down he fell, into the darkness, with a small mountain of debris and Josiah Sanchez tumbling after.

31) "Dinosaurs" - Flah7

Buck squinted, trying to see beyond the storage crates, dry goods, and leaning ladders. 

Beyond the dull glow of invading dying day light, muted by the rain, the tunnels became pitch black.  A consuming darkness that seemed to devour light.

He made a move toward one of the tunnels just to his right.  He held the lantern aloft and leaned forward. The thick blackness of the tunnel swallowed the light. 

He stepped forward, curiosity dictating his moves. The sound of rain falling, the shouts of town people above, water running down through broken floors into the tunnels all seemed muted.

"I wouldn't go too deep into those tunnels," Pandora warned.

"Why's that?"  Buck didn't bother turning his head when he spoke to her, but took another small step deeper into the cavern, away from the dry goods and lantern light.

"Pandora," Mary hissed with a glare of warning.   She dabbed a little more rigorously at Nathan's head.  The healer hissed in a breath and shied away, rolling his head into one ample breast.

"Why?"  Buck asked.  This time he did turn and give the two women a curious look.

"Well," Pandora stuttered looking to Mary and then the ground.

"There something back there?"  Buck didn't like their body language.

"Just," Pandora muttered, "maybe."

"Pandora!" Mary nearly shouted.

Buck ventured a little deeper into the tunnel taking the light with him.  He became a slim silhouette to the other three.

"Oh, Mary!"  Pandora huffed with exasperation as she put her hands on her hips, "It could mean his life!"  Pandora whipped her head around, "You don't want to go much further, Mr. Wilmington."

"Why?  There something back in there that gonna eat me for dinner?"  A bit of humor laced his voice, but did nothing to hide the strong hint of caution.

"Maybe," Pandora confirmed.  She bobbed her head, loosening more long strings of hair. 

"More 'n likely," Mary added. 

"I ain't patchin' ya up any further, Buck, if you go and do something foolish," Nathan muttered.

"Oh yeah?"  Buck unholstered his weapon, ignoring Jackson.   He squinted and leaned even forward over his toes, trying to gleam a better look into the tunnel.   "Oh yeah," he whispered.  I wonder what they're hiding?  Where's JD when you need him?  JD would be down there like a shot.

With another cautious step forward, Buck felt his courage grow.

"I'd really not be doing that," Pandora whispered.  She backed away from the direction of the gunman who slowly slipped down the darkened tunnel.

Mary slowly climbed to her feet helping Nathan up along with her.

Buck took another step. The deep gray shadows of the lantern light began to close in behind him, masking him from view.

"Mr. Wilmington?" Pandora almost implored.

Buck ignored her.  "I think I see something," he called back.

"Mary?"  Pandora beseeched in a quiet whisper.   Mary tugged Nathan around and over collapsed floor debris and toward one of the leaning ladders.

"Hey!"  Buck hollered to something down the tunnel way.  "Hey!  I can see you!  Stop!"

Pandora let loose with a whimpering squeak.

"I see something, for sure." Buck stepped further into the tunnel and all but disappeared from sight.

 "There is definitely something big back here."  He his voice rang back to the others who remained in the lantern light.

They could no longer see him.

Once again, they heard him yell to whoever or whatever wandered back in the cave system, "Hey!"

A deep, thunderous growl answered him.

Mary and Pandora screamed.  Both women grabbed Nathan by the arms and practically threw him at the ladder. 

There was the sound of something falling, followed by Wilmington's shout of fear and the pounding of his feet.  He burst into the lighted part of the tunnel, waving his arms and high-stepping over debris.  

"Up the ladder, ladies."  He tried to keep a calm unassuming air which failed completely.  He cast quick glances over his shoulder into the black tunnel he had just escaped.  The scraping of large feet on dirt echoed from the tunnel.   "Move along, little faster ladies."  He pushed them up the ladder, uncaring of where he placed his hands and attempted to scramble up after them. 

32)  "(Hurricane) Tornado" - Sablecain

Josiah groaned as he pushed himself up from the damp earth, shaking boards and newspapers and other clutter off of him.  Muscles and limbs ached, but as he did a quick survey he realized he was otherwise unharmed.

"Ezra?"

A low moan answered him. 

Following the sound, Josiah felt around in the darkness until he found cloth.  He patted the area, realizing he was smacking Ezra's back.  "You all right, son?" the preacher questioned.

Standish's response was similar to a gurgle.

Slowly, Sanchez began clearing the wreckage away from Ezra's battered body. He glanced up at the hole they'd fall through.  Daylight streamed in dimly through the mess and his eyes were slowly adjusting. "Must be a tunnel system or something," he murmured seeing the hinges and realizing Ezra had been pinned atop some kind of trap door.  

He scanned the darkness around them. "You hear screams?" he asked.

Ezra gurgled again, still incoherently, refocusing Josiah's attention on him again.  Searching quickly, Josiah uncovered the nearly unconscious gambler and rolled the smaller man over.

"Arggh."  Ezra grimaced and shook his head.  "Could y'all please stop trying to protect me now?" he half whined.

Josiah chuckled. "Not likely." 

Ezra moaned, but Sanchez ignored him, looking up sharply at a strange sound coming from the depths of the darkness.  "You hear that?" he asked not waiting for an answer. "Sounds like growling…"

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Vin and JD stood topside staring at the huge hole that'd swallowed Ezra and Josiah. 

"What?"  JD scratched his head.  He and Josiah had hurried to help when they'd found Vin alone, struggling to dig Ezra out of the rubble. Josiah had insisted on going in for Ez and suddenly, the ground creaked and the two men disappeared.

Through the rain, Vin shook his head wearily.  "It's one thing after another," he sighed.  He tilted his head skyward, letting the rain wash over his face.

"Josiah! Ezra!!" JD shouted into the dark hole. "You hurt?"

Something in the wind changed, Vin frowned and opened his eyes, squinting against the rain's onslaught. Thunder rumbled above and the sky had gone from gray to green. "Crap." Tanner scowled as a piece of hail pegged him squarely atop the head. 

"Ow!" JD yelped. "What is that?" 

What started as tiny ice pellets turned into fist sized rocks.  The winds churned.

"Get in the hole!" Vin shouted at Dunne.

"What? I can't just jump in there!" JD protested, eyeing the darkness with fear.

A roar as loud as a freight train sounded even as the sky went from green to black.

Tanner didn't give JD anymore time to argue. He grabbed the kid and threw him into the hole, jumping in after him just as what was left of the newspaper building began to lift into the sky.

33) "Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?" - NotTasha

Larabee heaved open the door that led to the backroom of the brick-walled law office.  He was met with a bookshelf decorated with crossed swords over a shield, a huge carved desk and a tall, thin figure that gazed toward the rear entrance.

The heavy door slammed shut behind Larabee with a BOOM.

The spindly man spun and froze, looking terrified.   Then, a look of relief washed over him, and he went into motion.  "Help me!" he shouted.  "Save me!  He's going to kill me!" the man cried, latching onto the gunslinger like some strange mechanical toy.

"Wild?" Chris yelled.  "Where'd he go?"  He tried to force the other man off, but one arm was nearly numb and the other gripped the gun.  "Where's Wild?"

"He's gone! Long gone," the bony man whined, gesturing to the back door.  "Oh my God, he's going to kill me!"

Chris finally managed to fling the other man off and he leapt toward the back door.  "If he's gone, then you got no worries do you?"  Cautiously, he eased open the door, and poked his head into what remained of the alleys of Rock Hollow.  Just rain – pouring, driving rain and puddles that vibrated under the deluge – and splinted bits of wood and blowing papers from the earlier activities.

 The sky had turned a disturbing shade of green.  The wind huffed, making the door shake in his hand.

Wild could have gone right or left or straight ahead, or ducked into a doorway of one of the remaining businesses.  There was no sign of him.

The other man moved behind him.  "Wild? He's nothing.  He's a nobody.  It's my partner, James Bond, that you have to worry about."

Warlord Wolfe looked nothing like his name.  All bones and height, he seemed more like a half-starved greyhound than anything wolfish.

"Please!" Warlord cried, grasping Larabee's arm.  "You have to help!  Oh!"  He released his hold, his hands curling in disgust as he moved away.  "Blood!" he gasped as he gazed at his hands.  "Bond did it?"

"Wild," Chris told him as he kept searching.

Wolfe sighed.  "My partner is eaten up with jealousy!  He can't win a case to save his life and he blames me!"  Wolfe grasped a handkerchief from his pocket and scrubbed at his fingers.  The movement looked like spiders dancing.  "He wants me dead.  That's why I'm hiding out back here."

"He's afraid of you," Larabee told him, trying to figure out the lawyer.

"What does he have to be afraid of?"  Warlord said incredulously.  "Look at me!  The only thing he should fear is my talent!  I'm far more accomplished than he is.  I win my cases.   I know which wheels to grease, if you know what I mean."

Chris, still peering out the doorway, muttered, "He said you shot the sheriff."  There was a rumble approaching and Chris raised his eyebrows, not quite able to identify the sound.

Warlord sniffed.  "I swear it was in self defense.  You have no idea of what that man is capable of.  Yes, I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy."

Chris looked over his shoulder at the lawyer and narrowed his eyes.  The rumbling increased, like an approaching train.   Hail clattered above.  The windows rattled.  It was if the whole room was breathing with the storm.

"Bond shot the deputy.  He'll probably come after me next," Wolfe told him.  "The deputy was working with Bond, trying to find some dirt about me and the sheriff."  He fluttered with the handkerchief as he returned it to his pocket.  "Apparently, with his digging, the deputy unearthed something that Bond would have preferred stay hidden.  James figured he had to do something to take care of it."  Wolfe lifted his hand like a gun and said, "boom".

And the building blew up around them. 

34) "Childhood fears" - Tipper

Josiah looked up when he heard JD's call, asking them if he and Ezra were okay.  He was about to answer when something changed.

It washed over him like a cold wind, a certainty in his bones that something truly horrific was about to happen above their heads.

As if in answer, a powerful rumble became audible overhead, different from the growling he'd heard earlier, and his eyes widened.  He knew that sound, knew it from his childhood.  It was one of his worst fears, and terror spiked through him.  Unbidden, the image of the one he'd seen plough uncaringly through an Indian camp one afternoon came to the front of his mind. It had killed everyone in it but he and his father and sister, camped up on the far hill. They'd just watched, unable to do anything.  He'd had nightmares for years, dreaming about it.

All the screaming, the bodies, the homes, all sucked up into the winds like nothing….

Tornado.

Suddenly, he was digging Ezra out as fast as he could, practically ripping the smaller man from his cocoon of wood and dirt, and pulling him deeper into the tunnel, paying no attention to the gambler's protests or gasps of pain.  He had to get him to safety!  He would not let them be taken!

He never saw JD and Vin fall down on that same pile of wood and dirt seconds after he'd started moving, or heard their screams, their voices mingling with the ones in his head from his nightmares.  He was intent only on getting deeper into the caves, to get Ezra to safety, to get them both as far from it as he could.

Blackness surrounded him, but it was safe…safe…he had to get deeper!  Had to….

He came to a dead halt, Ezra tightly gripped under his arms like a sack of feed, and stared.

Three massive dogs stared back, hackles raised, teeth bared and growling, whites of their eyes glowing in the darkness.  They spread out across the tunnel, obviously guarding whatever lay beyond, the chains around their necks loose….

"Cerberus," Josiah muttered softly, too afraid to go back, but unable to move forward.  He felt Ezra scrabbling at his chest, trying weakly to get free of Josiah's grip, but he just tightened his hold.

"Lord help us, son," he whimpered as the rumbling overhead increased to a deafening roar, and the dogs stalked closer, "I've brought us to the gates of hell."

35) "Warlord" - J Brooks

The storm cellar door rattled and buckled in Buck's white-knuckled grip. He held tighter, trying to keep the flimsy wooden flap closed against the terrible force outside that was trying to rip it off its hinges and suck them all into the sky.

The roar outside seemed to go on forever, so loud he could barely hear the sisters screaming in terror as they crouched at the foot of the stairs. Another set of hands joined his as Nathan staggered to his side to join the hopeless effort to fend off a tornado with their bare hands.

Although, Buck had to wonder if they were any safer on this side of the door.  He shuddered, remembering the eyes glowing at him out of the distance. The terrible growling and the shadowy forms, sensed more than seen.  And even worse...what he'd glimpsed in the cavern beyond.

And then, as suddenly as it had started, the storm's terrible roar fell silent. 

Buck and Nathan kept their tight hold on the door for a beat, not quite believing it.  Then, Buck threw his shoulder against the door, desperate to get into the open again, out of these terrible tunnels.

The door didn't budge. Nathan joined the effort, but something had fallen across the cellar door, trapping them below.

Nathan sank down on the stairs and fixed Buck with a weary look.

"You want to tell us what we're running from?" he said, rubbing at his aching head. "'Cause the way I see it, these tunnels probably run right under that alley where we left Chris and Ezra. Seems like the fastest way to get back to them."

Buck sank down next to him, shooting a nervous glance at the right-hand tunnel. The entrance yawned dark and silent and apparently empty. Buck knew better.  He fumbled for another lantern and lit it, chasing away some of the gloom. Then he turned to the sniveling seamstresses.

"How 'bout you answer the man's questions, ladies?" he said through clenched teeth.  "I got a feeling you know a hell of a lot more about it than I do."

Mary sniffled and slouched deeper into her dress. Pandora squirmed.

"They won't leave the tunnel," she said finally. "Look, we owe you for protecting us from the dynamite. And the tornado. So we'll lead you to your friends and show you the tunnels that lead out into the desert.  You can walk away and forget you ever heard of Rock Hollow."

Nathan raised his head, frowning. "They?" he said. "Who are 'they'?"

"Dogs," Buck spat. "A passel of the meanest-looking guard dogs I've ever seen. Question is..." he paused, squinting again at the dark tunnel. "Whose dogs are they?"

The sisters shivered.

"Sheriff Deeds," Mary whispered finally.

That wasn't the answer Buck was expecting. "Well, I guess the next question is – what are they guarding?"

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For the third time that day, Chris Larabee opened his eyes to a view of the wrong side of a heap of rubble.

As he lay there, glaring at a pair of book cases that had crashed together and trapped him in a narrow pocket of air between, he heard a voice calling for him.

"Mister? Mister gunman, sir?"  A feeble shove set one of the book cases rocking, sending a few stray volumes sliding down to thump against Larabee's abused rib cage.  He let out a grunt of protest.

"You need get out here," the voice continued. Larabee's foggy mind supplied the name – Wolfe. The spidery attorney who shot the sheriff.

With a groan, he rolled onto his hands and knees and threw his back against the bookcases until they teetered and fell aside. Wolfe was crouched beside him, wringing his hands.  The office around him was in shambles. The roof was gone.

Larabee shook his head, trying to focus. Tornado... He craned his neck upward, noticing for the first time that the rain was slowing.  The patch of sky that was visible where the roof should have been was clearing, as if the twister had blown away the storm, along with half the town.

He staggered to his feet and grabbed the attorney by the lapels.

"Start talking," he growled.

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"Have you ever heard of the Red Hand Gang?" Pandora asked, darting nervous glances around the tunnels as if she were afraid someone might be listening.

Nathan cocked his head, frowning. "They robbed a bunch of stage coach lines back in the day. Maybe ten years ago?"

"Closer to fifteen," Mary muttered.

Buck looked from one sister to the other. He remembered the gang now. JD had bored the hell out of him with a dime novel about the gang once. The gang and its ruthless leader, known only as Red, had terrorized the territory for years and then simply vanished one day, never to be seen again.

"What's ancient history got to do with anything?" he asked, beginning to suspect the answer.

"Do you have any idea how much money they stole over the years?" Pandora asked, warming to her role as storyteller now. After a dramatic pause, she continued. "Enough money to found a town and set the bandit leader and his men up comfortably for life."

Buck closed his eyes, picturing the glimpse he'd caught of the cavern behind the guard dogs. Stacks of crates, each marked with a red handprint. And other things. Terrible things.

"Rock Hollow?" Nathan broke in incredulously. "You sayin' this town is some sort of bandit hideout?"

Mary brightened, leaning closer. "It started out that way. They used to hide out in the caves. But they wanted to settle down, raise their families..." She gestured vaguely to her sister and herself.

Buck shook his head, remembering the mealy-mouthed collection of townsfolk they'd met so far. "Your neighbors sure as heck don't act like a pack of ruthless desperados."

Pandora looked offended. "They're out of practice," she said. "It's been years since anybody crossed them. And nobody crosses Red."

"And Red is...?"

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"Sheriff Deeds?" Larabee almost choked, squinting at the fast-talking lawyer. "You expect me to believe that that blowhard you shot is one of the most wanted men in the territory?"

"Rufus Deeds!" Wolfe squawked as Larabee's hands tightened on his collar. "Rufus! Latin for 'red!' I swear! The man was a ruthless desperado! A wanton warlord! A—"

A gunshot shattered the silence that had fallen in the storm's wake.  Wolfe stiffened and slid slowly out of Larabee's grip to collapse in a sodden heap on the floor.

Larabee whirled to find himself facing the double barrels of a shotgun in the hands of Wolfe's shadowy partner, James Bond.

"He always did talk too much," Bond said.

36) "Care package" - Flah7

Josiah stood staring at the growling dogs in the low light that came in through cracks in trapdoors overhead.  He carefully let Ezra slide to his feet.  He kept a tight grip on the unsteady gambler and kept a slightly averted eye on the dogs.  No sense challenging them with a full on stare.

The giant black beasts stalked forward slowly, lips curled back, long strings of saliva dangling from curled lips.  As the dogs slid toward them, Josiah took tiny steps backward, toe to heel, Ezra staggered with him.   The lead dog inched along, head lowered, hackles raised.  Occasional streams of light reflected off the eye.

"Gold?"  Ezra whispered with confusion, but a touch of reverence. He sniffed the air as if testing it.  Injuries, almost forgotten, he jerked his head upward and off to the side.  A brief moment of vertigo disoriented him, teetering him into Josiah. Unfazed, he tested the air again. "That's gold."  The confusion fell away and was replaced with reverence mingled with a healthy portion of glee.

"No, brother, that is approximately 200lbs of disagreeable dog you smell," Josiah whispered.

Ezra struggled briefly in his grip, forcing Josiah to free him.  The preacher maneuvered such that Standish was pressed to remain shielded by him.

Standish ignored the dogs.  He stared down a darkened tunnel.  His confusion as to where they were, waylaid by the prospect of monetary gain.  "No, that's gold."  He tested the air again and added, "and something unpleasant.

Josiah backed up another step placing his hand firmly centered on the gambler's dirty and slightly tattered shirt.   Ezra gave ground without much thought, his attention squarely on the darkened tunnel to his right.

"Definitely gold."  He stepped toward the right tunnel.  The thick blackness seemingly swallowed him whole.

The dogs stopped, cocked their heads to the sides for a just a moment.   Josiah mirrored their action.

"Brother," Josiah warned.

The three refocused their attention on Sanchez.

"Is that a cutlass?  Pirate treasure?"   Standish's disjointed ramblings concerned the preacher.  "Legal papers?"  A lucifer flared to life, creating a distant small halo of light and marking Ezra's whereabouts if only briefly.  "Good Lord! All packaged and ready to be divided, equally, of course.  There would be a finder's percentage as well.  I did risk life and limb discovering this."  The excitement faded momentarily, "and a body---spikes? Impaled with spikes?"   There was a slight pause, "Josiah, we might have a bit of a problem."

Josiah altered the direction of toe heel, backing retreat and slid into the entrance of the right tunnel. "Might," Sanchez muttered with a tinge of exasperation.

The deep growls became fiercer, heads dropped lower and hackles raised.

"Ezra!  Move!"  Josiah pivoted on the ball of his foot and disappeared into the tunnel just as the dogs leapt.

37) "Magic Carpet Ride" - Sablecain

JD groaned as pushed himself up and tried to figure out where he was.  He remembered the sky spitting ice and then Vin screaming at him to jump in the hole. There was no way he was going to willingly jump into that dark pit, and then Vin had grabbed him and…

"Ow," he whined, grasping at his leg as struggled to his feet. Everything hurt. He felt like he'd been pummeled by the Nichols brothers all over again. "Thanks a lot, Vin. Ya had to throw us onto a heap of wood and crap?" He squinted in the dark when there was no response.

"Vin?"  Panic welled up within.  He glanced above, but very little light shown down from the hole above. At least it sounded like the twister was over.  Carefully, he searched around, the darkness overwhelming him.  "Vin?" he shouted.

A groan.  JD followed the sound until he found Tanner's leg. He followed the leg up carefully patting, searching for injury.

"You wanna keep that hand, then you'll stop right there," Vin growled.

JD pulled back from Vin's thigh. "You hurt?" he questioned , straining again to see in the dark.

Vin huffed a laughed that JD was pretty sure meant he'd asked as stupid question. The man had already been shot once.  "Yer gonna need to help me up," Vin explained.

Following Vin's directions, JD managed to get Vin out of the rubble that they'd landed on and tried to get him to his feet, but Tanner groaned painfully and shook his head.  "Messed up my side more, and my knee." 

 "You can't walk?"

"Nope."  

JD sat back on his haunches. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness and he could now make out shapes and shadows as the light from above seemed to increase as well.  There was no sign of Ezra or Josiah.  Where had they gone?

"Can you climb back up for help?" Vin asked, looking above at the ragged hole they'd jumped through.

"Don't think so." JD knew it was too high and the rubble they'd fallen on wasn't stacked high enough. There looked to be the remains of a ladder against one side of the tunnel, but it'd broken off high above his head.  Then he focused on something else.  

"Wait, I got an idea."  Quickly he scurried about, grabbing what he needed.  Shaking it out, he grinned. "Perfect"

The throw rug looked to be something expensive at one time.  Thick and sturdy he couldn't quite make out the intricate patterns in the weave, but he didn't care either.  It only took a few minutes and a lot of cursing to get Vin settled on the carpet. 

Tanner looked skeptical. "Where exactly are you dragging me?"

"Don't know but there's gotta be another way out of here eventually, right? Not like things could get any worse." JD grinned and started along, dragging Tanner behind him.

"Shit, kid, don't say that." 

38) "All tomorrows come from yesterdays" (Bon Jovi)  - NotTasha

"Bond," Larabee ground out.  Wolfe's body rested at his feet, among his books.

The short, balding lawyer had changed his aim, moving it from his partner to the gunslinger.  Bond grumbled, "Warlord shouldn't have messed with Red, or with me for that matter."  And he stood up a little taller at that comment – his head nearly reaching the height of Larabee's chin.

Larabee tried to stand up in the rubble, but found himself trapped in all of it.  He'd lost Ezra's gun somewhere in the destruction and his hurt arm wasn't going to be of much help.

"What do you aim to do now?" Chris asked nonchalantly.  Around him, in the ruined streets, he was aware that people were just starting to move about – stunned and shaken and amazed.

Bond smiled a little, "You'll get what you deserve." He stumbled a little as he moved to get a better shot.  "You've done so many things," he scowled as he tried to get though the rubble, "the least of which is the destruction of our happy home."

Chris shook his head, saying "I've done a lot, but if that insane son of a bitch Wild hadn't started taking shots at me, then…"

A flush of anger came over Bond.  "Don't you dare badmouth Neville -- after what you did to him and Lily!"

 "Lily?" Chris echoed as he braced against one of the fallen bookshelves.  It wobbled.  "You know her?"

"Of course, I know her!" James snarled at him.  "She was my sister!  And you tried to steal her away!  Stop moving!  Stay put or I swear I'll kill you as surely as I killed Deputy Bongiovi and Wolfe.  You know I can do it."

Larabee stopped moving, and stared at James Bond, trying to gauge just how far the lawyer could go.  He tried to find some resemblance between him and the lovely Delilah "Lily" Wild, finding none.  And then Bond's face scrunched up and his eyes welled, and Chris remembered Lily.

"She's my little sister!" James hissed.  "She was sweet and innocent, and I did everything I could to protect her!  When Mother and Father passed, I was the one who took her in.  She looked up to me!"  His eyes were moist, but his gun stayed trained on Larabee.

"She was funny and kind!" Bond kept talking.  "It seems like only yesterday that Neville came to town.  He was so good to her.  He came to me, asking for my blessing, I gave it to them.  I wanted her to be happy, to have a family and everything I had.  It broke my heart when Wild moved on with her.  They could have lived here in Rock Hollow."  And his gun dipped a little as he remembered the parting. 

Chris almost spoke, but Bond started again, "And then you came into their lives!"   The gun lifted.  "You destroyed the happiness they'd found!  They had a future!  You took it all away!"

Larbee's jaw stiffened as he uttered, "Wild destroyed it."

"He was a good man!" Bond countered.  "You ruined what he ever loved and held dear, and drove him mad!  And you deserve what's coming to you."

Chris kept watching him. "You're the one who told him I'd be here," he deduced.  "You knew I'd be in town with Standish."

"I did," Bond admitted.  "He wanted his revenge, but I can take mine for what you did to my sister."

"Wild beat her. "

Bond flinched at those words.  "No!  He worshipped the ground she walked on!"

"He nearly killed her.  He's a mean son of a bitch."

"No, it's not possible," he said, sounding less convinced.

"Wild beat her bloody. If you'd only seen her... I was helping her get away, getting her to safety."  Chris paused, remembering that night again.  It had been raining, raining as hard as it had been earlier this day.  He remembered Lily weeping, and holding onto him, asking that he bring her somewhere – to a town – to her brother --- to Rock Hollow.

What followed next came to him in snatches, flashes of memory, sensations – hoof-beats, the cold of the rain and how it soaked through his clothing, the smell of blood and whiskey, the press of Lily as she weakly clung to him, how she had cried, and a shape – suddenly the shape of a man.

"He… beat her?" Bond finally seemed to internalize what Chris had said, and truth of the words flashed over his face.  "But he said… " His voice drifted as the resolution hit him.  "I'll kill him!" he spat and spun around, just in time to see Wild appear from around a fallen wall.  

"Nev!" James exclaimed, his eyes wide.  "Tell me it isn't true.  Tell me that you never hurt my Lil."

Neville Wild watched him, his eyes cold and cruel, and he lifted his weapon.

Bond set his jaw and lifted his gun, but was too late.

James Bond yelped as the bullet hit him.  He stumbled through the rubble toward Larabee as if looking for help, and then collapsed, crying in pain and curling up not far from where his former partner lay.

Neville smiled as he turned his gun toward Larabee. Chris reached, grasping hold of the nearest thing at hand.

39) "Revenge is a dish best served cold" – Tipper

Chris hefted the massive book just as Neville fired…and it caught the book dead center, shoving Chris back a couple of steps into a pile of rubble.  He staggered and fell, landing hard onto piece of wall and desk, the book falling with him, almost crushing him.

Blinking a little, he glanced at the binding and almost laughed at the title: "Model Criminal Laws for the New West: How to Bring Order to Chaos."

"Book ain't gonna save you this time, Larabee," Wild jeered, walking closer, his eyes bright with pain and shock.  The man was shaking, grinning madly and without humor, and looking about half an inch away from just collapsing. 

Didn't make his hold on his weapon any less loose, however.

Chris had no more ways out, he'd used his last one when he'd grabbed that book.  A couple of feet away, Bond continued to gasp in pain, holding his gut, blood seeping through his fingers, and watching them both.

Wild came to a stop about a foot away from Chris and pointed the rifle at his head.

"No more friends to save you this time," Wild sneered.  "They're all in the darkness now."

"Wrong as usual, Neville," a woman said then, her voice soft.  "He has one more."

Wild froze, his head lifting.  Chris shifted up a little, pushing the heavy book off his chest and looked past the crazy man to the blue eyed, brunette woman standing right behind him—holding a rifle to the back of Wild's head.  Her long hair danced in the still strong winds.

"Lily?" Wild whispered.

"My brother's been acting weird for weeks," she said, her voice dangerously low, "hiding from me, sending me on errands out of town, not telling me things…."  She frowned.  "I thought it had to do with all the crap going on with Red and Warlord.  Never in a million years did I imagine he'd be hiding you."

Neville turned around, his rifle slipping down to the crook of his arm.  "Lily.  My love! My heart! My liebchen!"

"Your punching bag," she snarled, never lowering her aim.  "What crock of lies did you feed my brother to convince him to let you come to Rock Hollow?"

"The truth, baby!  That I wanted you back, and I was willing to do anything… anything… to make that happen.  I'll worship you, take care of you, make up for everything I've ever done.  I swear, my days of hurting you are over!  I'm not that violent man anymore!"

Lily smirked coldly, glanced down at James and Chris, and then back up again at Wild. "So, what?  Chris and Jimmy just slipped on a banana peel and, whoops, you shot them?"

"He… Larabee took you from me! He had it coming!  And your brother was going to kill me!  I had call to do what I done!"

"You always do, Neville." Lily's gaze narrowed.  "But it's never the right call."

"Baby…."

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right now," Lily demanded.

"Because…" Wild opened his arms, "I can't live without you."

"I said, why I shouldn't, Neville, not why I should."

"Then, what about the fact that I love you?  And I need you.  My life is empty without you!"

"Then you'd best harden the fuck up, Neville, because you ain't getting me."

He stared at her, and then something changed in his demeanor.  Chris grabbed for something to throw just as Neville tried to draw his weapon back up to kill her, but Lily was faster than both of them, pulling the trigger on her rifle.

Neville Wild's head exploded like a melon.

Chris huffed, dropping the board he was about to throw as the body of Neville Wild landed hard at his feet.

Lily grinned wolfishly, dropped the rifle, and, after kicking Neville once for good measure, looked over at Chris.

"Now we're even," she said.  Chris snorted.  Lily glanced at James then, who shivered while trying to smile apologetically up at her, and she sighed.

"I have to get the doc for him," she said, shaking her head sadly.  "But you," she smiled again, "you need to go."

"My friends…."

"Are below.  You need to get them out of here.   This isn't a good town, Chris.  It's not even really a town.  You need to find them and git, fast as you can.  I'll make sure no one ever goes after you."

"But…"

"Trust me.  I trusted you once, and it saved my life.  Now you need to trust me, so I can save yours.  Find them, run, and never ever look back."

Chris frowned, but, with his joints and bones aching at every movement and his arm was worthless.  He somehow managed to get back to his feet.  When he did, Lily stepped back and pointed at what looked like a trap door in the floor.

"Down there.  My cousins Pandora and Mary are with one of your men in one of the tunnels, I think.  She can show you how to get out."

He stared at the door, then again at her.  She smiled softly.

"It's really good to see you," she admitted.  "I didn't know if I ever would again but….It's really good to see you."

He studied her a moment longer, and then gave a nod.  "You, too."

He kicked some of the debris off the door, and then, with a grunt, pulled it open.  Hot, musty air assaulted him from below, where stairs lead into the blackness.  Taking in a deep breath, he took a step.

And then everything began to shake.  

"Oh no," Lily whispered, backing up from the hole.  "What now….?"

"Dynamite….Tornado…"  James Bond gasped. "Probably destabilized….the tunnels…."

Lily's eyes widened.  "Oh God…"

Chris looked down into the darkness, and took another step down, grimacing as the wooden steps began to shiver.

"No, Chris!" Lily tried. "You can't go down there now!  It's too dangerous.  You should just go.  If the tunnels collapse, your friends won't stand a chance!"

Chris just looked at her, smiled, and ran the rest of the way down the shaking stairs into the blackness.

40) "Pandora's Box(es)" – J Brooks

Another warning rumble sounded, the ground shook, and Buck, Nathan and the two women flattened themselves against the tunnel walls, wincing as pebbles and grit pattered down on them.

"Now what?" Nathan grumbled, peering up at the rock ceiling.

"I don't know about you, pard. But I've had just about enough of this whole dang town," Buck said, glancing back at the blocked tunnel exit. "What say we find the others and--"

He glanced back at Pandora and Mary, who were still brushing rock dust out of their hair. "Which way to the tunnels that lead to the desert?"

Mary sneezed, sniffled loudly, and then pointed wordlessly down the tunnel to the right.

Buck glanced left, toward the darkened tunnel where he'd caught that tantalizing glimpse of the treasure hoard, and something uglier.  He was tempted to suggest a side-trip to take a closer look. But he hadn't forgotten the dogs. Or the others, trapped somewhere in town full of tornadoes and earthquakes and mobs and random explosions and semi-retired stagecoach robbers.

He turned resolutely to the right and put his hand on Nathan's arm, ready to lead the way to the first exit back to the street level.

The sound of a gun cocking at his back froze him in his tracks.

"Not so fast," Pandora's voice purred at him through the darkness.  Buck felt the rifle barrel nudging him to turn to the left. "This is just too good an opportunity to pass up."

Slowly, Buck and Nathan pivoted to face the sisters. Mary sneezed again, produced a pair of six-shooters from somewhere in her voluminous skirts, and leveled them at the two lawmen. Buck's eyes widened and he dropped his hand to his holster. It was empty.

Pandora quirked an eyebrow.  "My sister can pick your pocket and then stitch you a new one," she said.  "Growing up the way we did, you pick up a few things."

Leaving her sister to cover the hostages, she stepped to an alcove and pulled out a bundle of supplies and two lanterns. Lighting the lanterns, she handed one of them to Nathan and shoved the bundle at Buck.

"Three years!" she snapped, gesturing them toward the dark tunnel that led to the bandit's treasure. "Three years we've been planning how to steal that treasure out from underneath Rufus Deed's nose. And in one day, you and your friends blow everything to hell."

Nathan started walking, rubbing at his aching head. "Now, to be fair, we didn't actually  blow--"

"Oh, shut up," Pandora said, giving him a little shove with the rifle. "You two are going to come in real handy when it come time to get around Red's dogs. And what comes afterward."

Buck took a tentative step into the tunnel, expecting any minute to hear the dogs' terrible growl. Nathan followed a step behind, peering warily around at the walls and ceilings. Pandora's bundle bumped against his leg. He could make out the shape of rope and tools and a few cylindrical lumps that might have been dynamite.  Buck's eyes brightened at the thought.

They walked deeper into the tunnel. Ahead, Buck could see the shaft of daylight angling down from somewhere above, illuminating a distant room and its stack of boxes, branded with the mark of the red hand.

"You ladies want to tell us why it's taken you three years to go after this stuff?" Buck called over his shoulder. "Seems to me your no-good sheriff left the loot pretty much unguarded."

When neither of the sisters responded, Nathan let out a snort. "Three years is a powerful long time to figure your way around a couple of—Buck!  Duck!"

The healer dropped the lantern and threw himself at Buck's knees, sending both of them crashing to the sandy tunnel floor as something whistled overhead.

Buck raised his head cautiously and stared in confusion at a pair of wicked-looking iron spears quivering in a wooden support beam at what would have been chest-level if he'd still been standing.

Pandora's gun prodded him to his feet again.  Mary, crouching over Nathan, let out a distressed squeak, staring at a spreading red stain around a jagged tear in the back of his jacket.  She reached out to help, realized she was still holding two pistols, and cringed back.

Buck dropped to Nathan's side, wincing in sympathy as the other man pushed himself upright with a groan.

"I'm fine," Nathan said, trying unsuccessfully to peer over his own shoulder as Buck ripped the bandanna off his neck and pressed it hard against the cut. "One of them spear-things nicked me, is all."

Pandora cocked the rifle again. "Now you know why folks don't just waltz in and make off with the Red Bandit's treasure," she said, gesturing with the gun for Buck to start walking again.

"Your friend stays here with us. We can't have you running off with the loot the minute you're out of sight."

Buck's eyes narrowed as Pandora switched her aim to Nathan's head. The healer sat propped against the tunnel wall, breathing hard and looking absolutely furious.

"Buck..." Nathan started to argue.

Buck had already turned, picked up the bundle of supplies -- equipment for getting around booby traps, he hoped -- and Nathan's discarded lantern. He took a few cautious steps back down the tunnel, encouraged when nothing exploded or tried to skewer him.  He could see the broken twine tripwire that had released the spears.  All he had to do was keep his eyes on the walls and—

continue on to Part 3
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