The scream of the city did not fade. It settled into the marrow of the walls, a low-frequency hum that made the very air feel brittle. Sarah pulled herself away from the turbine, her shoulder burning where the entity had grazed her. The scent of ozone had been replaced by the smell of something far worse, burning circuitry mixed with the copper tang of human fear.
The Scrapper and his crew stood in the shadows, covering their ears. The sound was not just loud. It was invasive.
Make it stop, Sarah, the woman with the analog camera pleaded, her nose bleeding from the pressure. It feels like my thoughts are being peeled off my brain.
Sarah scrambled back to the intake unit. The transmitter was gone, pulverized by the turbine blades, but the residual charge remained. The machine was feedin
