The climb was worse than the descent.
Descent had the advantage of direction — the body understood going down, cooperated with gravity even when the destination was something that wanted to kill you. Ascent was the body working against the accumulated cost of everything that had happened at the bottom of the stairs, each step requiring the specific expenditure of reserves that had already been spent significantly and were operating on what remained.
Rean counted the steps again on the way up.
He stopped at four hundred and twelve because the number had become accurate rather than unsettling and accurate was worse.
"Four hundred and twelve," he said.
"I counted four hundred and nine on the way down," Xander said.
"One of us was wrong."
"Or the staircase changed."
"Can't believe we're arguing about numbers "
They both laugh hard.
