A moving stairway carries me down. I’m in a tunnel. To my left, right, behind me and before, a silent hoard stands motionless, like discarded statues.
A rush of wind ruffles my hair. A rumble becomes a roar. A massive silver snake rattles to a halt. Doors hiss open, like gaping mouths. A surging mass escapes, buffeting me in its frantic bid for freedom.
I am carried forward by a throng, about to be devoured. We are crammed, like sardines in a can. A jerk. I grip a post. We sway as one. Nobody speaks.
‘We are approaching Angel’ shrieks a robotic voice.
Free at last.