Tables turned (for bigkitty75)

[head_psychic]

The sound of wind. Loud. Steady. Interrupted, from time to time, but oh so loud, rippling through his body, pounding in his ears and he needs a good minute to realize that it is his own breathing. In. And out. And in. And out again. It stings a little, he sounds winded, strained, wheezy

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[head_psychic]

Someone's talking, next to him, he is not alone but that doesn't surprise him because he knew that already. But this one is close, nearby, next to him.

He needs to look.

His head hurts, a lot of things hurt but he knows he has to look. He raises his hand, slowly, carefully and places it underneath his own chin, pushing, forcing his head to the side so he can see

[head_psychic]

"I don't know."

He tries to look around without moving his head too much. Lets his eyes wander. Thinks.

There is no smoke. The dust has settled, and it's quiet. Onlookers aren't quiet. Besides, there are no city noises, no car honks, nothing. "I don't think anybody has."

He presses his lips to a thin line and tries to sit up. "We gotta get out."