The corridor narrowed without announcement.

  Packs brushed composite. Fabric whispered against the walls.

  Griff slowed the pace.

  The air cooled here. Still. Breath lingered longer before dispersing.

  Jake noticed first.

  His stride shortened. Ears forward. Tail set in a straight, deliberate line.

  "Hold spacing."

  No one questioned it. They trusted the dog.

  Ahead, the passage dipped beneath an old reinforcement frame bolted into fractured ceiling plates. A steel girder crossed overhead, heavy with undisturbed dust.

  Marty ducked automatically.

  "Mind your skull."

  Mad eyed the beam. "That thing predates all of us."

  Scarab smirked. "Especially Don."

  Don let it pass.

  Jake stopped.

  A small click formed in his throat.

  Griff raised his lamp.

  The girder sat lower than the surrounding plates. Anchor bolts showed faint distortion around their heads.

  "Elin."

  She stepped in close, scanning the brackets with quick, practised eyes.

  Kyle angled his sensor upwards. A faint tremor rippled across the display.

  "Stress pattern's active," he said. "The system's been testing this joint. Creep isn't random."

  "Creeping breaks things," Mad muttered.

  Dust slipped from the upper flange. Jake's ears snapped forwards.

  Then came the sound — a thin metallic strain that travelled through bone before air.

  "Move," Griff said.

  They passed beneath in controlled sequence. Faster than walking. Slower than running.

  Kyle cleared the frame. Andrea followed. Scarab turned sideways to protect his pack. Mad dipped lower than required. Archie stepped under.

  The girder shifted.

  A sharp drop. Three centimetres.

  The crack punched through the corridor like a gunshot.

  Kyle staggered as the shockwave hit the floor, ribs slamming against the edge of the concrete lip. He caught himself on a hand, breath knocked hard from his lungs.

  The rear anchor tore free.

  "ARCHIE — GO!"

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Archie lunged forwards. Kyle was still down. Archie was closer.

  The beam came down.

  Marty moved without hesitation. One step. One shoulder. He drove Archie clear.

  Steel crashed into flesh and concrete with a sound the body cannot survive.

  Mad grabbed instinctively and was thrown back by the force. The girder pinned Marty from hip to chest.

  Silence followed. Dust hung suspended in the lamplight.

  Then Marty exhaled.

  The sound came wet — blood in his lungs, body shutting down faster than his mind could process. He looked surprised. Like he'd expected more time.

  Don dropped beside him immediately.

  "Don't lift it. Spinal load."

  Blood spread beneath the steel in a slow, dark bloom.

  Jake surged forwards until Griff caught the harness. The dog strained against him, claws scrabbling on concrete, a low vibration building in his chest that grew into a sound — not quite a bark, not quite a whine. Desperate. Insistent.

  He'd saved Don in the rail shaft. He could save this one too. If Griff would just let go.

  "Easy," Griff said quietly, holding firm.

  Jake fought for three more seconds, then went rigid. Understanding arrived. Some things even he couldn't fix.

  Marty searched faces until he found Archie.

  "You good?"

  Archie tried to answer. His throat worked but nothing came out. Tears cut clean lines through the dust on his face. He managed a hard nod.

  "Good."

  Marty had paid the price to keep Archie alive. Archie's hands shook as he backed away anyway. He'd pushed him clear. Taken his place. The equation didn't balance at all.

  Kyle pressed a hand to his side, breath shallow, ribs burning with each pull. Worse than before. The panel drop had cracked them. Marty dying under steel had made them scream. He stayed upright anyway.

  Don found Marty's pulse with fingers that already knew the outcome.

  "Stay with me."

  Marty gave a faint huff. "Wasn't planning on going anywhere."

  His eyes drifted to the Walkman clipped at his belt.

  "Take that," he said. "Batteries are good."

  No one moved.

  "Don't waste them."

  Mad unclipped it carefully. His hands had stopped shaking. Shock did that sometimes — turned panic into eerie calm.

  Griff lowered himself opposite Don. Their eyes met. Both knew. Marty read it in their faces.

  "Hey," he said softly. "No speeches. Beam wins."

  Elin's jaw tightened. Mad turned away, fists pressed into his skull. Shoulders rigid. Breath held. Fighting the sound that wanted to tear out of him. He lost. A single harsh breath escaped before he locked it down again.

  Jake made a small sound. Marty heard it.

  "C'mere."

  Griff let go of the harness. Jake approached slowly and lowered himself beside him, muzzle resting against Marty's shoulder. He circled before settling, then stilled completely.

  "Good dog," Marty whispered. His fingers found Jake's ear.

  Don's voice lowered. "You're fading."

  "Yeah."

  A breath.

  "Make it count."

  The words lodged inside Griff like weight added to bone.

  "I will."

  Marty nodded faintly. His hand slipped from Jake's fur. No next breath followed.

  They stayed where they were.

  Above them, the girder settled with a dull metallic thud as tension redistributed through the frame. No alarms. Just gravity finishing its argument.

  Andrea broke first. "We can't leave him under it."

  "No," Griff said.

  The lift took effort. Mad and Scarab wedged broken anchor plates beneath the beam while Elin guided the rise by inches. When the weight shifted enough, they pulled Marty free.

  Kyle helped despite the sharp line of pain under his ribs, moving carefully to avoid another breath that stopped halfway.

  They carried him back beyond the frame.

  The alcove they chose was shallow but dry. Stones were gathered. Stacked. Kyle placed the pry bar across the top. Don set Marty's Walkman beside it. Archie added one of his spare data chips. Andrea tightened the strap at her wrist until her fingers blanched.

  "Forty-three," she whispered.

  Jake lay beside the cairn. Still.

  "Time," Andrea said.

  Griff rested his palm on the topmost stone. "You carried us."

  When Griff stepped back, the others shifted without a word, sealing the gap where Marty had been.

  Jake rose last. He pressed his nose briefly to the stones, then returned to Griff's side. They moved. Boots found rhythm again.

  Kyle kept pace, each breath measured, ribs protesting with every step. He didn't slow them. But Jake drifted closer to his left side.

  Behind them, airflow shifted. Dust settled across the cairn in a thin veil. Ahead, the corridor widened slightly. Enough for one less body.

  Jake stopped midway down the widened corridor.

  Something quieter than alarm. He stood with his weight slightly forward, muzzle angled upward at an angle that had no ceiling to justify it, no source, nothing the corridor offered that should have produced it.

  His tail had gone still.

  Griff stopped beside him. "What is it?"

  Jake held the angle for three full seconds. Then his head came down and he shook it — the physical reset — and moved forward.

  Griff watched the space above them for a moment. Composite. Reinforced concrete. Decades of silence.

  Nothing.

  He followed the dog.