Dawson's world span on an axis as she fought to remain conscious, her ears ringing with a piercing screech, and her eyes fading in and out of blackness. Her face lay flat on the dirty floor of the van, the musky smell of damp shooting in and out of either nostril, acting like a filthy reminder of death.
The roof of the van had almost completely caved in under the force of body after body, the first of which had sent Dawson sprawling to the floor. The thin metal had warped upon impact, forcing it down sharply onto the top of Dawson's skull. She couldn't remember much of the immediate aftermath, only snippets of screams, explosions, and clicks.
It was like millions of crickets, crammed into her ears, driving deep into her head, chirping over and over again, filling her very existence wit
