The noise got worse the farther down the hall Yuche and I got.
Someone was hammering hard enough to shake dust from the ceiling, a drill screamed from somewhere near the front of the house, and at least three people were arguing about whether a pipe was cracked before or after someone touched it.
My mansion sounded like it had swallowed a construction crew and was now trying to puke them back out and then let me clean up the mess.
By the time we reached the stairs, I had already decided that one person was probably going to die, possibly two. I just had not chosen which one yet.
The main floor looked like a bomb had gone off inside a hardware store. Plywood covered the worst holes in the walls, and thick plastic had been stretched across the broken windows. There were even wooden braces that now held up the damaged entrance.
