“George, tell Dante what happened!”
A faint wind hisses around Cristal. A crystalline arm sweeps from the void’s edge with lightning agility, adheres to her body and snaps her forward, knocking the wind from her chest. Her heart rages. Her breath escapes ragged as the pressure sucks her in with a resounding pop. Harrison, George, the footbridge, and dogwoods grow miles away in a spatial pocket or sphere connected to the advancing tunnel. The wingless, wheelless, God-forsaken aberration carries her from the present on a blind nightmare.
Cristal, locked in an invisible protective grip, accelerates forward in a gravitational slingshot, aiming her toward an unknown target. Her flight decelerates, leaving her suspended in stasis, hovering in slow motion. Darkness alters to a vast soup of red,
