Screaming. The tunnel collapsing and screaming. They were the only things that Zhukov could comprehend as he ran through the metro line.
Pushing, kicking, punching, trampling; anything to escape the hell at the rear of the tunnel.
Pieces of masonry and concrete fell onto the crowd surging through.
Heads were crushed and bodies mangled, yet still carried on, crashing through another wave of barricades and guards.
Many fell to the first wave of rounds, only to be replaced.
The guards were dragged to the ground and trampled.
Yet the crowd bothered not to collect their weapons.
Only to escape like rats through a sewer.
To escape the effigy of the angel of death.
Zhukov looked once more through the crowd, searching for any of his group, and yet could see no one.
Suddenly, a figure slammed into him, winding him. The last things Zhukov noticed as he fell into unconsciousness was a voice in his ear telling him to brace and the sound of his watch beeping, indicating that Armageddon had arrived.
