Descrizione
The concrete is rising. Jonathan Hancocks can feel it creeping up his legs, thick and cold, with the inexorable patience of floodwater. He's standing in a narrow trench, twenty-three feet below ground level, and the wooden formwork that's supposed to hold back thousands of pounds of wet concrete has just exploded inward. The sound was like a shotgun blast. Now the gray sludge is pouring into his workspace, and he has maybe sixty seconds before it reaches his chest.
He tries to move his right leg. It won't budge. The concrete has already hardened around his boot, locking his foot in place like a bear trap made of stone. His left leg is free, but there's nowhere to go. The trench is only two feet wide. Above him, twenty-three feet of vertical shaft disappears into a circle of gray November sky. There's a ladder, but it might as well be on the moon.