The smoke filled the air like a choking fog; the alarm blared loudly enough to deafen. He had been in the office once before, when he had snuck in for preparations for this day. The walls were the same sterile white, bare except for a map that hung on the corkboard, bright with red pins. There was glass scattered across the floor now from the one-way window of one wall. The escrivaninha, mesa was on its side. He hurried over to the mural with the map where keycards hung from a hook. He stood on his tippy toes to grab them. When he turned to run back to the others, he saw the foot sticking out from behind...
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