“The snow. There’s tracks of us coming here but not leaving. The fire will have melted them around the first entrance, but it’s not going to be too hard for him to figure out where we are. We need to get out of here quickly.”
“But how, they’re still out there?” one of the monks asked.
Ghost nodded to the darkness outside the lantern’s light. “We need to go up through the shops and out that way while they’re still focused on the outside. Then we can come back cause a little chaos from a safe distance and he’ll think we managed to make it. He won’t go looking for footprints if he thinks he knows what happened. And the zombies crashing around in the snow will do a good job of covering up our tracks too.”
He walked over to the lantern and pulled out the leaflet of the Mall. “We just have to decide which shop is easiest to get out of.” After a few moments consideration he pointed to a small art store. “It’s the shortest distance from there to the library.” He paused, “I’d rather not turn the lights on and then have to leave the lights on behind us.”
In reply various lanterns were switched on creating a much larger pool of light around them. They headed into the darkness until they reached the far wall. After a few minutes searching they found the stairs that led to the art store.
“I don’t suppose you know anything about picking locks?” Ghost asked.
When no-one replied he walked over to the lock and sorted through the realities until he found one where it was both unlocked and no-one had thought to leave any kind of alarm or trap either. The door opened smoothly in his hand. Amber went up first, shotgun ready, her keen elven vision easily piercing the darkness. Ghost followed her, not wanting any of the monks to accidentally shoot her if there was any trouble waiting for them. Amber listened intently are she climbed the stairs. He could hear the whispering of the monks robes against the floor and the skittering of a mouse somewhere above, but nothing else.
At the top of the stairs was a stock room. The monk’s lanterns lit it up easily. Ghost paused and looked around. He picked up a case of cleaning alcohol. Only a fool would drink it, but it was highly flammable and in a pinch, a source of fuel. The stairs leading up to the store itself were small and cramped and seemed almost to have been an afterthought, as if the architect had suddenly realised that the store owner might occasionally like to re-stock his store after all.
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