Post by Melody Arachne on Mar 14, 2007 8:53:50 GMT -5
From the upstairs, a rope ladder is dropped from one of the hallway windows. After a long moment, a figure shimmies down the swaying boards, and stops in front of the dented iron door. Several quick shakes of her wrist ready a spray can of paint, she points it towards the door, carefully prints a message in red on the iron-grey panel.
She steps back and surveys her work, nods in satisfaction and drops the can in the street. Hooking the rope ladder, she quickly scrambles up it and into the window upstairs.
Melody jumps the hole in the stairs, studies the damage to the bar critically. It was bad, but no worse than it had been before. One could cope. First things first, though ...
She moves to the bar and ducks behind it. Wetting a rag, she wipes her face and neck clean of blood- very little of it her own. She scrounges a bit and comes up with a thick bicycle chain. Going back to the door, she pulls the gratings shut, makes sure the locks are set. The chain goes through the iron bars, holding them fast.
Stepping back, she eyes the now-closed entry carefully. "That should hold until I can resupply ... anyone wants in or out, it's the cellar or the upstairs. Guess it's a good thing Murray didn't fix that window after all."
On the iron front door is painted in bold red letters-
NO GROUND FLOOR ENTRY
CELLARS OR LADDER ONLY
UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
-mgmt
She steps back and surveys her work, nods in satisfaction and drops the can in the street. Hooking the rope ladder, she quickly scrambles up it and into the window upstairs.
Melody jumps the hole in the stairs, studies the damage to the bar critically. It was bad, but no worse than it had been before. One could cope. First things first, though ...
She moves to the bar and ducks behind it. Wetting a rag, she wipes her face and neck clean of blood- very little of it her own. She scrounges a bit and comes up with a thick bicycle chain. Going back to the door, she pulls the gratings shut, makes sure the locks are set. The chain goes through the iron bars, holding them fast.
Stepping back, she eyes the now-closed entry carefully. "That should hold until I can resupply ... anyone wants in or out, it's the cellar or the upstairs. Guess it's a good thing Murray didn't fix that window after all."
On the iron front door is painted in bold red letters-
NO GROUND FLOOR ENTRY
CELLARS OR LADDER ONLY
UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
-mgmt
