The three-minute timer on the Feather Potion hadn't completely worn off yet, leaving Julien firmly to Chris's broad back like a captive balloon.
As he carefully navigated the shattered road of District 9, the true horror of the apocalypse settled over the group. The air was thick with the suffocating smell of concrete, ruptured gas lines, and burning rubber.
The tall apartment blocks that used to block out the sun were now reduced to mountains of wasted rubble.
But it was the sounds that truly haunted them.
Beneath the shifting debris, the groans and desperate pleas of the injured echoed through the unnatural silence.
People who hadn't made it to the subway tunnels or sturdy basements were trapped. Chris paused near a collapsed grocery store, his jaw tight as he looked at a pinned civilian, but the massive slab of concrete burying them was far too heavy for even his enhanced strength to lift without causing a secondary collapse.
