the smuggler’s bible

Hale

Hale yells for the others to make one last push, then he drops his shoulder, bends his knees and charges toward the door.

The good thing about (robbing) catacombs is that people like to be buried with their glittering accoutrements. Also, skeletons are dumb as hell, so even if there is a curse, it’s usually no big deal.

One of the creeps reaches out, and Hale smashes its phalanges and metacarpals into bone powder. “Hey, man,” he says, snatching a spinning ring out of the air, “greed begets greed. It’s kind of your fault I’m here in the first place.”