“Hey,” Cord says, rustling us out of our thoughts. “We need to save these lamps.” Our lungs all fill with air as we realize what this means. Total. Darkness. One at a time, our lights go off. First Cord’s. Then Jiggs’. “Here we go,” I whisper, raising my hand to my helmet and flicking my lamp off too. The pitch black settles over us on the cold, wet floor of hell.
