Tight rinds of glass poured into the space above my head. Automatically, my hands found my head and forced it down – protect the brain, all I thought; if they were relying on me, no way would I let broken escape tunnels ruin.
But then, I hadn’t counted on the bleeding darkness. Underneath shards of white light, blackness sat snug. As I took a new breath in, I was strangely aware of it – and of its lack. Air forced into my lungs stung, desperate.
Hands curled into fists. I wasn’t letting night steal concentration, let alone the claustrophobia of my profession.