Below, a ten-story apartment building groaned like a wounded animal. Its foundation had been cracked clean through—by what, you hadn't pinned down yet—and the whole thing was tilting, slow and deliberate, toward the street.

Sirens wailed in the distance. People were still inside. You could hear them screaming.

The living room floor was already slanted. A woman clutched a toddler in the corner, shelves spilling books around her feet.