One last boom rolled up from the hollow of the seabed.
At first no one heard it. They felt it. The sound arrived through bodies instead of ears—knuckles clicked inside gloves, old scars shivered awake, teeth rasped as if remembering a bite of ice. Even the canvas tents quivered on their guy-ropes, suddenly slack, then suddenly taut.
Air thickened. A hush pressed down—too dense to breathe, too jealous to share space with anything living. It drew heat from skin like a jealous suitor and left goose-bumps in return.
