I supposed things are starting new

LANCE

I followed Dad on trogging down the stairs. A burst of dust pop when I flump my feet on the ground. I keep forgetting I have a glow stick stash on my back pocket. I yank it out. Forgot I sat on my butt on the passenger seat, squashing the poor stick until it flattens like ice cream on a driveway.

I search for the wall with no lights to aid. Bulging my eyeballs until I can make something out of this darkness. The dank and dusty atmosphere irritates my nose. Somehow Dad has found the switch to a generator. I heard him kicked a metal lever and the machine roared to life. The orange light bulbs lit on top of our heads.