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... ly his molars felt like they might crack. Each movement sent a jolt of pain screaming up his leg—a reminder of the broken mess below his knee. The world smelled of iron and mildew and something sour beneath it, something rotting and alive.
His flashlight had died hours ago. Now, he followed the flickering pulse of emergency lights embedded deep in the ceiling—red glows that barely illuminated more than a few feet ahead.
His fingers, slick with sweat and grime, gripped a rusted be ...
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