Henry's POV
I woke up coughing, my lungs filling with dust-concrete.
Familiar.
I only heard my heartbeat thrumming in my head, not a single other sound.
Opening my eyes, I saw the sky. Reaching to my side, I didn't feel an ounce of warmth; there were only sharp concrete chunks.
So familiar.
I sat up, closing my eyes when I saw my surroundings turning.
I touched my ear and looked at my hand; there was blood.
I injured my head.
I stood up with difficulty and looked around, seeing no black skyscrapers anymore, just a landscape of black debris: a broken cardhouse, the efforts of building homes and going higher for more space, going higher to fit more people—everything had come to naught.
The buildings had turned to dust that lingered in the air, in the whole vicinity, and with each breath, I was taking part of the concrete inside my lungs.
SO FAMILIAR.
Something had crashed into the skyscraper.
What had led to that?
Was it a crane?
