Sound returned slowly, like surf rolling over him.

At first, it was only a low hum—steady, rhythmic, almost like breathing. Then the weight of the air pressed in, the taste of dust and ozone filling his mouth. The hum became the wind, the wind became Gray’s voice.

> “Hale? Hey—Hale, can you hear me?”

He coughed. It felt like dragging gravel through his throat. His eyelids fluttered against the light, too bright, too real. The last thing he remembered was pulling the cable, the ...