I was startled awake by a tap on my shoulder.
"Sweetheart. Are you ok?"
"Connor?" I whispered. My voice box was trashed. I could not make a sound. I looked around and took inventory of the situation I was in.
It was not good.
I was lying on the ground, in the darkened interior of the train tunnel. There was no light coming from any of the intermittent light tubes on the tunnel ceiling.
The only light source which we had to see by was the tiny blue flame that Connor magiked into being, floating above his head. There was dust and debris everywhere, as if something catastrophic had happened.
Connor's normal shinny red hair was no longer red. The thick dust had turned everything dull and pasty grey.
"Here, drink this," Connor placed a small bottle to my lips and tipped a small amount into my mouth. "Your skin is dry and hot and you're dehydrated. That's dangerous."
