Sam Fisher- Black Smoke and Dust

  There might’ve been a roar of flames, he wasn’t sure, but a heat wave passed over him, followed by clouds of choking black smoke that had him tucking his face into his parka.

  “Keep down,” he told Briggs, who was right beside him, writhing and offering up more strings of epithets.

  Fisher’s ears rang as the hailstorm of rock rained down on them, his pulse quickening over thoughts that at any second the entire tunnel would collapse.

  Still covering his mouth and nose, he forced his head up and hazarded a look through his trifocals. Bad idea. His worst fears were coming true.

  The side wall about five meters away began to collapse, splintering apart as though a demon were kicking his way through from the other side. The ceiling buckled and finally succumbed to all the force, the tunnel filling up with massive pieces of shale haloed in gravel and swelling dust.

  “Get up!” he cried to Briggs. “We’ll be cut off!”

  Briggs rose beside Fisher, coughing, and they pushed through the billowing dust, their goggles penetrating the veils until they reached the pile of rubble.

  While Fisher expected the worst, he mounted the first pile of rubble, picking his way carefully across it as the timbers above creaked and more dust swirled down, making him feel as though he were shifting through an hourglass.

- Blacklist Aftermath, Chapter 22