The five women, and Jake, met at 14.05 just behind the door.
Sent down here in 1991, just before the end of the Cold War, they had been eleven strong.
“You’ve seen the latest photos.” grunted Jake.
The outside camera had shifted sidewards: beside the demolished buildings, there was a hint of blue. Could it be water?
”One of us should go up and check.”
“Well you go then!” replied one of the women, irritably.
Jake stepped rapidly through the open doorway: they heard his screams as he fell down the shaft.
“That’s the last one then!”
“Now it’s just us girls”
This weeks challenge, organised as always by the wonderful Rochelle Wisoff Fields is my entry to Friday Fictioneers. Thanks, not only to Rochelle but also for the excellent photo prompt from the talented C. E. Ayr who hosts Soundbite Fiction!