I think I may have been unconscious for a moment or two. I'd lost my footing after I cracked my head, tumbling into rickety shelving, bringing the whole thing down on myself.
The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back, buried in junk, aching all over with a bucket on my head. I groaned, then heard Mary call my name.
My left arm was pinned under something heavy, but my right was free. I pushed the bucket from my head, grunting from the exertion. In front of me, Oak crept down the stairs, uncoiling line with one hand, lighter held out with the other.
