The beginning is
here.
3
Knowing full well that waiting around for Owen has never been a viable option, even though you keep doing it, you start the long, painful struggle to free yourself. Working one hand gingerly between the bricks surrounding you, you strive toward the air. Your muscles scream with every movement and every shift of your body makes the debris above you move alarmingly.
Something trickles down your back and you aren’t sure whether it’s blood or sweat or both.
You can feel a slight vibration through the floor … footfalls? You redouble your efforts, hoping that it really is Owen.
In the distance you hear a series of explosions and the crackle of flames. The air is growing even smokier and more acrid; your lungs and sinuses burn and panic tightens your throat.
I am not going to die like this, you think. This is absurd.
If you would like to skip lightly over the nitty gritty details,
turn to page 8.
If you want a hyper-realistic, step-by-step account,
turn to page 37.