The elevator didn't glide. It fell.
It wasn't a smooth, sci-fi descent. It was a terrifying, rattling drop into the throat of the world. The platform shook so violently that Julian was on his hands and knees, clutching the grate floor, his face a mask of green nausea.
"Carbon-enchanted steel," Arthur yelled over the shriek of the rusted guide rails. He was leaning against the railing, trying to look casual, but his knuckles were white. "Safety factor of ten!"
"It sounds like it's screaming!" Zack covered his ears.
"It's just friction!"
The air grew hot. Then cold. Then hot again. They passed through layers of the earth—damp limestone, dry granite, and then something else.
The smell hit them first.
It wasn't the sewage smell of above. It was dry, metallic, and sharp. It smelled like the inside of an old clock that hadn't ticked in centuries. Ozone and dust.
CLANG.
