Into the darkness of the subway tunnel we sprint. I fire up my Lumen so that we can see, my light glinting off the steel tracks on either side of us. I sense movement at my side and it takes a moment to realize that there’s a herd of rats running alongside us, also fleeing the collapse. Somewhere down here, a pipe must have burst, because I’m running through ankle-deep water.

With my enhanced hearing, I listen to the stonework that surrounds us grinding and tearing. Whatever the Anubis destroyed on the street level, it caused major damage to the foundation of the city. I glance at the ceiling just in time to see a jagged crack spread through the cement, breaking off into tributaries that spread down the mold-covered walls. It’s like we’re trying to outrun the structural damage.

We can’t win this race. The tunnel’s going to collapse.

I’m about to yell out a warning when the tunnel gives way above Daniela. She only has time to look up and scream as a dislodged chunk of cement plummets towards her.

I put everything into my telekinesis and shove upwards.

It holds. I manage to stave off the cave-in centimeters from Daniela’s head. I exert so much counterforce to support the massive weight overhead that I’m pushed down to my knees. I feel the veins in my neck protruding, fresh sweat dampening my back. It’s like carrying a tremendous weight when you’re already exhausted. And meanwhile, new cracks are spiderwebbing out from the broken piece of ceiling. It’s physics—the weight has to go somewhere. And that somewhere is going to be right on top of us.

I can’t hold this. Not for long.

I taste blood in my mouth and realize I’m biting my lip. I can’t even yell to the others for help. If I shift even a tiny bit of focus away from my telekinesis, the weight will become too much.

Luckily, Sam realizes what’s happening.

“We have to hold up the ceiling!” he shouts at Daniela. “We have to help him!”

Sam stands next to me and throws his hands up. I feel his telekinetic strength join mine and it alleviates some of the pressure. I’m able to get up from my knees.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Daniela hesitate. The truth is, if she ran now, with Sam and me supporting the tunnel, she could probably make it to safety. We’d be screwed, but she’d make it.

Daniela doesn’t run. She stands on the other side of me and pushes up. The cement in the ceiling groans and more cracks erupt in the tunnel walls. It’s a delicate balance—our telekinesis just forces the weight from the broken stonework to shift elsewhere. No matter what we do, eventually, this tunnel is going to collapse.