Never got used to the smell. With the tunnel blocked off, it closed around him and he swallowed, noticing the skeletons in the flashlight's beam.
Bones were usually kept in the boxes, he thought, the light playing over the dark caskets against the wall. Not just thrown on the floor.
The smell strengthened. He pushed the lid up and it hit him in the face. Blood. Rot. Gassy organs, swollen and glistening, leaking liquid over ripped flesh, broken bone. The face was familiar.
From the pictures.
He lifted the lid of the second casket and gagged. Half-brother. Dead. Eaten.
Sam!