"Da Yong! Da Yong, help me, Da Yong!" Mrs. He screamed herself hoarse, reaching out for her son.
With one arm around his son, He Xiaobao, He Dayong sprinted forward frantically. He couldn't spare a thought for the mother he had left in his wake.
"Da Yong!" Mrs. He's world-shaking scream was quickly swallowed by the chaotic din of the shantytown.
Trembling all over, she stumbled and fell. Her lips quivered, her face drained of color as she stared in disbelief at the fading shadow of her son's retreating figure.
All around her, the crowd fled in a chaotic, desperate scramble.
Screams of terror, the thud of trampling feet, curses, and wails of despair wove together into a death march.
The darkness deepened.
Mrs. He looked back in utter despair, only to see a shimmering green light flooding the horizon.
It painted the ink-black night with a brilliant, shimmering green.
Yet, this was the color of death's approach.
