9/11 Short Story

Eleven P.M Monday.
There were thirty-four men standing around the hole in the basement, the muffled shrieks from Hall and Warwick shuttered through the men’s ears. None of them could began to understand the truth behind the walls filled with rat shit.
“Somebody should go down there and check on them, they Wick and Hall have been done there for nearly half an hour,” Brochu whimpered.
“Not me, I got a family men,” Wisconsky said sternly.
“Alright fellas, let’s wait another fifteen and see what rodent carcusses our boys bring back,” Brogan said proudly. He sounded almost so sureful his men were okay that he sounded fearful.
Slowly time ticked and there were no sign of Warwick and Hall, soon the husky men got worried. They started discussing

A loud crashing sound came crawling up the stairs. Warwick and Hall sprung from the musty hole and fell to the ground. Everyone huddled around them with concern. No one said a word. They stared in astonishment while the men lay on the filthy dirt ridened floor. Hall was the first to speak.
“The rats… they… they…,” Hall muttered.
“They are enormous, depraved and dangerous,” Warwick shrieked.
Warwick attempted to stand but collapsed. The two men had scratches and what looked to be bite marks. They stayed on the floor until the someone spoke up and asked what they should do.
“We need to demolish this building. It can be no more,” Warwick screamed.
“The previous owners of this company had packs of dynamite up in the upper office,” A man in the back of the group shouted out.
“Alrighty, you heard the man, a couple of ya go find that dynamite, we are going to blow those rats out of here,” Brogan announced to the men.
They divided up and went on there assigned mission. Some stayed back to devise a plan of attack once the dynamite is in their possession. Others gossiped among them, about what truly lies behind the walls they were all familiar with. While the rest tended to the Warwick and