They were now at the top of the stairs that led down to the basement. Dan couldn't help but hesitate. He wasn't allowed down there, a small voice echoed in his head, but he wasn't five years old. Being allowed or not allowed somewhere meant fuck all, really. But he knew what was down there. The boiler. The mechanism for the elevator that was still making awful noises. The piles and piles of paper that had caught his dad and the scrapbook that had been how the hotel got into Jack's mind. He did not want to go down there. However, Dan also knew that whatever he did or did not want to do also meant fuck all. He had to go down there, and he had to do it right there and then.
His dad's words from earlier popped back into his mind. (Once more unto the breach...) he echoed, and started down the stairs.