Dust hung heavy in the abandoned warehouse like a choking shroud.
Particles rose from the cracked concrete floor, mixed with rust flakes from old machinery, while more rained down from the shattered roof beams above.
Coughs echoed in the haze—raspy, desperate. Ash's was among them, raw and strained as she twisted against her restraints.
"The fuck is going on? Who's there!" Miguel asked loudly, shoving himself up from the debris.
His massive frame emerged first, silhouetted against the dim emergency lights that still flickered weakly.
Johnny stayed low, curled fetal with hands clamped over his head, breathing shallow and silent, praying the dust would swallow him whole.
The driver wasn't so lucky. His voice cracked out in a wet, agonized plea that echoed through the settling chaos.
"Someone… help! Please, ughh, help me!" His lower legs were obliterated, crushed beneath a toppled forklift's heavy tines—the same brutal impact from the earlier crash that had pinned him.
