There has to be a way out of here, she thought. There has to be somewhere.
Out of here.
The sky was rising and falling. Beams slanted. The ceiling was missing.
Something shifted, tilted, gave way. A cavity opened up, a vacancy. From above came a narrow probing beam of light.
Someone groaned; something moved.
She smelled gas. The light went out.
There was no breath in this place. There was nothing to see. The walls walled her in.
I am trapped, she thought. Panic rose in her throat and choked her.
She was playing the piano. Her fingers hurt. A little tune, a little starling tune, lifted off the keys and flew away over her head. Up, up, to the narrow probing beam of light flew the starling.