Unclear was the shadow behind the tunnel, illuminated by the splendor of heat—it coiled and dispersed around the trees. A lingering scent of burning flesh and ash blew in the wind. Sounds of never-ending cries spurt the horizon at the end of the shaft. My silent footsteps stilled, relenting in the wake of unexpected horrors awaiting my escape. I grasped the cold feel of metal, rubbed its aged edges of ticking time.

"You are too late," she said, an ever-growing indulgence spurred from her tongue.

I knew her words to be true.