There was another quake. The infinite weight that crushed him into the mass was . . . less! He could squirm about! He could use one hand to free the other!
And . . . there! He heard something! A deep rumbling . . . a cranking sound. A machine?
Another quake . . . and light!
There was a crack in the mass of corpses above him, and a tiny, glorious spark of red light.
He threw himself into action. He clawed at the bodies around him. He felt their blood streaming beneath his nails.
And . . . then . . .
He burst to the surface!
He forced himself out of the blackness, out from the blood and bodies, between the skulls and the rotting flesh.
He stood on a mountain of the dead.
But he didn’t look at them. He only stared upward, into a blood red sky, and felt the icy air fill his desperately working lungs…
He was free.
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