It hangs in the air like a second sky, gray and thick and tasting of concrete and copper. Somewhere above—far above—sirens wail, muffled by what must be tons of rubble.

The silence that follows is worse.

A groan. A shift of weight. A cough that scrapes against the quiet like gravel.

A beam creaks overhead. Somewhere, water drips. Slow. Deliberate. Counting the seconds.