Shuu plunged to his knees, putting his hand on the floor of the subway car. He had to be sure. The moving sands sensation immediately enveloped his hand, rising to his wrist. Someone in the far distance was asking if he was alright, but it was all at the edge of his perspective, all focus and concentration on the sands, what they were doing.

The shaking was becoming stronger and stronger; then the sands shot up to his knees and elbow. It was like he was being buried alive. The shaking was almost violent.

Then, without warning, the shaking stopped, the sand hardened.

And then it cracked.

"Everybody get down! Earthquake!" Had he had time, Shuu would have been surprised at the size and volume of his bellow. The entire car turned to him in shock even as he grabbed the three nearest him: a high school boy, a middle aged woman, and an old man; and pulled them to the floor of the car, diving on top of them.

No sooner had he done so that everything exploded. The sound of the emergency brakes plummeted onto the car; people everywhere flew backwards and forewords. Coffee spilled on his jacket, filling his nostrils and burning the back of his neck. The shaking that Shuu had been feeling on his senses now assaulted his reality. Everything was shaking. The lights flickered and went off. Screams were everywhere, ranging in cries for family or loved once to curses of surprise to oaths of anger to guttural releases of panic. To add to the deafening symphony of chaos was the low, terrifying sound of bending metal. Glass shattered from the window, littering the people-covered car with bits of shrapnel. Blood filled Shuu's sense of smell, something slicing through the sensitive membrane of his nostril. A thunderous thud sounded from above combined again with the keening of warping metal. Something slammed against his lower back and hips, and smoke finally worked its way past the smell of blood.

Shuu was later told that the earthquake lasted only thirty seconds. He laughed and said it was the longest thirty years of his life.

When all was finally quiet, Shuu looked up slowly, assessing himself. Aside from the sliced nose, he had somehow twisted (sprained?) his wrist and; finally daring to look behind, saw that a roofing panel had half landed on him, still connected to what was left of the roof itself. His hip was killing him, but he could still feel his legs and move them. For that he thanked whoever was looking out for him.

The three beneath him were uninjured, though the old man was coughing horribly. Widening his scope, he saw dirt and dust everywhere. Somehow the emergency lights were still on, casting everything in an ugly red shade. People were getting up slowly, blood and grit covering everyone. The car was twisted, but thankfully intact aside from the one tile that had fallen on him. Beyond that, however, was what stopped the adrenaline in Shuu's system and replaced it with dread.

The concrete tube they had been traveling in was littered with cracks; dirt was spilling here and there.

They were who-knew how many feet underground in a tunnel that would, at a time indeterminate, cave in on them.

"Oh, my god," someone whispered. "How are we going to get out of here?"