Nibbling an apple from her case, Tracy hunkered down and started opening boxes at the farthest end of the shelf. It was hot and the smell of old files was cloying.
An hour or two and about ten boxes later, Tracy felt like fainting. Suddenly she felt the world moving around her and she had to steady herself. She had been on her stockinged knees and her bottom fell all the way to the heels of her feet. God, hangovers and hunger simply do not mix. The dizziness passed. She took ragged gasps of breath and when she felt a little better, she resumed sorting out files.
A few minutes later, she felt another wave of dizziness, but this time, the whole basement shook. Boxes fell from out of shelves and files spilled to the floor. A small box teetered from the topmost shelf and Tracy managed only a short gasp before it fell and hit her smack on the head. Darkness started to engulf her. Her last thought was, Oh god, the basement’s shaking like crazy . . . I’m dead meat.
Waking up, Tracy felt she was ensconced inside a snug sleeping bag, all tight and only slightly uncomfortable. Her head still throbbed and her stomach was cramping. In addition, she couldn’t seem to see anything. She couldn’t move, and she couldn’t hear a single sound, except her breathing.
God, I’m buried alive.
She passed out again, hoping never to wake up again.
