Fire Escape from Death Mountain!
“I just didn’t expect it to be a fire escape exactly,” mutters Bezel. “More an escape from a fire. Like on snowboards.”
“I can’t snowboard.” Antony follows down the rusty metal stairs. A few people are using the fire escape as a makeshift balcony, grilling out, watering window boxes.
“Also, the mountain is misnamed,” Bezel says.
“You think so?” inhales an aging woman in her bathrobe, outside on a smoke break.
“Yes,” says Bezel. “Where’s the death?”
The old lady points a shaking cigarette at him. “These things,” she says hollowly, “are going to kill me.”