Morgan jolted awake, disoriented and gasping for breath, the air thick and charged with panic. He blinked against the blinding light, his surroundings a surreal blur of colors and motion. As his vision cleared, he realized he was lying in a sprawling field, surrounded by over a thousand bewildered faces—strangers like him, their expressions a chaotic mix of confusion and terror.
"What the hell?" he muttered, pushing himself up. He tried to comprehend the scene, but the cacophony of screams drowned out his thoughts. People were scrambling to their feet, eyes wide, mouths open in horror. The ground beneath him felt unstable, as if the earth itself was shifting in response to their collective fear.
He staggered to his feet, heart racing. The air crackled with tension as waves of panic rippled through the crowd. Morgan's instincts kicked in; he needed to get out of here. The thrumming pulse of terror resonated in his chest, urging him to flee.
"Move! Get back!" someone shouted, but the crowd surged, pushing and pulling like a frenzied tide. Morgan felt the weight of bodies pressing in on him from all sides, the sheer mass of humanity a suffocating force.
He fought his way through, elbowing past terrified strangers, each face a mirror of his own fear. "Just breathe," he thought, struggling to keep his composure as the crowd threatened to swallow him whole. He could feel their panic radiating outward, an infectious dread that threatened to consume him, too.
"Where are we?" a voice cried out, and the question echoed in the chaos. The ground trembled beneath his feet, and Morgan's heart raced faster. He had to escape this madness. He squeezed between two people, their wild eyes darting around as if searching for an answer that didn't exist.
"Let me through!" he yelled, trying to assert himself over the tumult. His voice felt small, drowned out by the rising panic.
Suddenly, a shriek pierced the air—a sound of pure terror that sent a jolt through the crowd. Morgan glanced back just in time to see someone stumble, falling to the ground as the mass of bodies surged forward. His stomach twisted at the sight. "This isn't right," he thought, a dark instinct whispering in the back of his mind.
The panic swelled, and Morgan felt a primal urge to run. The fear in the air was palpable, a living thing that clawed at his chest. He pushed harder against the tide, muscles straining as he fought to break free. He couldn't be swallowed by this chaos; he had to find a way out.
As he made his way toward the edge of the crowd, the grass beneath him felt foreign and strange, the ground shifting underfoot like it had a mind of its own. He caught a glimpse of the sky—a blaring blue that felt too bright for this moment. Everything felt surreal, as if the world had flipped upside down, and he was trapped in some horrific dream.
With one final push, he broke through the throng and stumbled into open space. The relief was short-lived, however, as the sounds of chaos still reverberated behind him. He spun around, taking in the scene: people flailing, screaming, confusion erupting like wildfire.
But he was out—at least for now. He drew in a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill his lungs. The distant mountains loomed ominously, their jagged peaks casting long shadows over the field, and Morgan knew in his gut that the danger wasn't just in the crowd.