Bab 169: Caleb Turner. Out of the Fog

I look down at my untied laces and grunt in annoyance. I consider bending down to tie them but decide against it. With how the world around me is tilting, there is no guarantee I will be able to get back up again. I lean against the white walls of the apartment's lobby and look around, appraising the crowded and disorganised scene in front of me. The smell of burned flesh chokes the air I breathe. Its foul scent doing nothing good for the nauseous feeling at the pit of my stomach, a feeling I got the moment Andrew opened up the door that leads to the lobby and I witnessed for the first time the horror that is occurring down here. 

"What the fuck?" Andrew said to me when we stood watching from the sidelines in those first few minutes.