The Dust

We hide down in the dusty catacombs of the old city, huddling tighter with every thud and shudder when the bombs fall.
The museums… the palaces…
They are all empty, and I look around at the few treasures we managed to rescue.
And then, a loud blast, and part of the ceiling caves in.
Screaming. Shouting.
People yelling ARE YOU ALIVE IN THERE and HELP, but it’s just too heavy to move.
More screaming.
I try to dig, and I pull out an arm.
It is from one of the catacomb’s ancient residents.
More thuds. More dust falls.
More screams.