Another echoing chamber greeted me as my voice came back, reverberating and lacking any sign of salvation. Now out of my pseudo-burial, the true pain of my body started to wash upwards. My legs felt as if I had run a marathon, the right as if I ended my final set of one hundred reps. Then it came to my left arm, poorly bandaged and with a shoddy tourniquet.

Surging pain roared in my stab wound, an endless needle injection if the needle were just below the size of a fist. I could picture in my head the steps up the stairs, into the bathroom, to find my medicine cabinet and its wealth of painkillers. My mind then clicked, I was in a shopping centre, I could just take some from a local pharmacy, but is there one down here?

I peered over the edge of the glass barrier that separated my upper walkway from the ground floor, my chest phone light giving a pittance of a vision cone in the distance. I would need to explore for what I needed, medication, food and drink to replenish my energy, or even just an exit to find a paramedic. Then it hit me.

Where was everyone? It was just past midday, if this was a shopping centre, why were there no other people? I didn’t recall any holiday today, though I didn’t pay much attention to this underground shopping centre before so it may have had previous warnings to today being an off-day. I guess I should be thankful no one else was hurt, but I wished I had some company to help me right now.

I should really stop wishing for things.

Another rumble started above me, dust and rocks falling from the ceiling and buildings that had found their way through the rocky heavens. I darted to the side and slide under a bench, hoping to protect myself from any more stalactites of rock. A large crash erupted from the clothing store I escape as more of the building that had pushed me down here came down with me.

Glass shattered, desks fell and exploded into wooden splinters on impact, and rock created a final burial within the place I was just a few minutes ago trapped within. With the falling of more debris, a wave of dust and thick-grey smoke rushed out of the store, as if a fog machine was turned to 11. The rolling decay swept over the walkway and over the side of the glass barriers as the bench protected me from most of it.

The rush stopped, the destruction settling in for another few moments. Crawling out from my safety I found myself covered in dust and dirt, though I did not care much about my appearance right now. If Empire Rize was continuing to flood the underground, other buildings could do the same, I need to leave.

Darting my head to the right, I tried to look for stairs or something of use, but the quick movement of my head caused another wave of dizziness. I had lost too much blood, and was most likely losing more with a gash in my arm. If only I had been in the medical field, by knowledge of first aid only went to the extents of forced seminars, or media.

Hobbling forwards on the upper catwalk, I turn my body to the left and right every so often to shine my chest light at signs and boards. One such message board had the info I was dreading, reading in big letters, “Closed from 20th January to 20th February for renovation works.”

What a crock of shit, renovations just as a collapse occurs. That timeline is definitely off now, it’s going to take much longer to fix what’s now filling the underground. No wonder this place is desolate, but what about others falling in here, or those running to the stairwells? I hope no one else got hurt, they could be trapped like I was.

No sense standing around, time to move. Clothes, clothes, clothes, why does this shopping centre have so many clothing shops?

Continuing onwards I eventually reach an electronics store, hoping to find a better light I pick up a nearby bin and throw it into the glass window displays. With a mighty clash, I am surprised that no alarm plays at my assault, though it is possible they were already set off or damaged from the collapse.

Stepping through the new entrance, I quickly scrounge up a torch and batteries, using a shard of glass to cut into both packages. Placing the torch between my feet I am able to unscrew the cap with my right hand and insert the batteries. It reminded me of the ones used by security guards, sleek and black.

Grabbing my phone I see the signal and connectivity icons still empty, turning off the light app as the battery has depleted to 8%. The new torch is brighter, goes further, and will last much longer than my phone emulating it.

Grabbing a smaller roundish light, I click the button on its side as it lights up, possibly more for rave events, but snapping it to my belt acts as a good enough backup for looking around my person, at my feet, and if I drop my torch.

Using a sling that would have been used for a camera, I clip it around my neck and place my left arm into it, creating a makeshift sling. I normally see this done for people with injured arms, so who’s to say I shouldn’t do this for a stab wound. It at least helps with the pain a bit as my arm is supported by my neck and not more of my arm. It was getting quite numb anyways, with the tourniquet doing its job, that or I lost more blood than I had thought.

Exiting the electronics store I use my new torch to bash the glass of a nearby vending machine to steal an energetic blue drink and chocolate bars. Hoping they’d aid in my lightheadedness. Light, food and water, and a makeshift sling, the only thing would be to find a pharmacy if an exit didn’t show itself to me beforehand.

Tearing into the wrapped with my teeth, unscrewing the cap of the bottle with my teeth, I turn into an animal to dig into my resources. It is a slow process as my left arm isn’t going to be used anytime soon. Drinking and eating, one after the other, I continue my walk through the walkway, shouting every so often.

“Hello?”

The returning sound was met with conflicting feelings. Should I have felt happy or worried that it was met with a long and pronounced “Help”? No matter my feelings, someone did reply, from below.

Moving to the edge of the glass barriers I aim my torch below.

“Hello? Are you ok?” I shout over towards the direction of the cry for help.

“I’m trapped under rubble, I can’t feel my legs!” a masculine voice rings out in pain.

“Alright, I’ll see if I can get down to you, can you see any stairs?”

“No. It’s too dark.”

Looking to the left, to the right, and across the gap between the other sides of the catwalks, I search hastily for a set of stairs. Nothing in sight. How do people get around this fucking place?

Instead of stairs, I do make out a store dedicated to climbing and thrill-seekers, hoping to find a rope or ladder of sorts I make my way to it. Smashing the window with another bin I storm the interior for something of use.

Luck would have it, a rock-climbing wall at around 15’ tall. Though this shop had another building join with it, so the roof was no longer that tall. Grabbing some rope and clasps I drag them out of the shop and move to attach them to the glass barrier. The barriers had metallic poles to act as bannister railings, so the rope was easy enough to set up.

Rumbling from above and below caused my feet to slip and slide as I began to mount the rope. Coiling my legs around the rope I start a slow slide down it, only for the rumbles to get worse as more glass is shattered and rock grating against more rock. Parts of the ceiling continue to collapse as I hasten down the rope to the ground floor.

Landing I dart to underneath the catwalk as a large portion of the ceiling comes down with another building. The loud rumbling is a deafening noise as if the Earth is claiming back its brick. Dust clouds form and roll about, covering my face again I am coated in the surface’s debris.

As the noise dies down I hear the coughing of my new companion in the deep, so I quickly move to follow the noise. They had found themselves stuck within a food store, the floor littered with crisps, liquids from boxes, as well as a hazardous display of fruit. I am just able to find the victim as my torch highlights a fallen fridge section.

“Hey! Here!” they call out.

Their face is covered in scrapes and blood, the tears I would ignore as anyone in this situation is sure to be welling up. The worst part was what they were buried underneath. The fridge section was one of those opened versions, with selfing units the hold cheese or meats. Atop the fridge was an insurmountable amount of rubble.

“Please, I am so cold”, they begged.

I move to the fridge and place my torch on the floor to light up the area well enough. I give a faithless push on the tip of the fridge but it doesn’t budge with a single arm. Looking below I can see that the man’s legs have been crushed under the lower portion of the fridge, probably where all the liquids and gases are held to keep the items cold.

The fridge itself is badly damaged, cracked all over and seemingly just holding together under the weight.

“Can you feel or move your arms?” I asked the man.

“Ye-yeah.”

“Ok, you may need to crawl out. I am going to break off some of the fridge, try and dislodge some of this rubble, and give it a good lift, when I say go, you crawl for life, got it?”

“Got it! Ready when you are, just hurry.”

Placing my right hand onto an opposite piece of rubble to brace myself, I give several heavy kicks to the fridge, the man winces a bit as he can probably feel the vibrations from it. Enough attacks are dealt that the fridge snaps almost into a third and two-thirds. The rubble above shakes and rumbles as it starts to flow off to the side. Placing my shoulder into the lip of the fridge I use my whole body to push it upwards.

The fridge buckles and shakes, as do my legs as the weight hurts as much as my arm.

“GO!” I shout as my voice echoes into the rumbling chamber.

The man scurries across the floor, and once I see his legs clear of the debris I let it go. However, as I let loose the cold prison, the earth above starts to quake and shake, the rumbling gets louder and deeper.

“Shit, we gotta go!” I shout again as I dart to the floor, cradling the man’s chest in my arm as I hoop it around him.

He lets out a yell of pain as I try to run with half his body sliding on the floor, he uses his hands as replacement feet to help us along. We get to the entrance of the store as the rubble above his icy-death home is crushed under more rock.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck. God that was close, fuck, fuck”, the man continues to exclaim, either through nerves or a weird tick brought on from his legs.

I hold out my hand to the man to shake.

“I was just in time. I’m Zeke.”

“Fuck, man, yeah you were. Thank you, Zeke. I’m Jed”, the man responded as he clasped my hand tighter than I would have liked.

“So, how are the legs?”