The Pale Altar
The hydraulic shear hissed, a high-pitched whine that cut through the dull roar of the diesel generator. I pressed the lever down, and the concrete slab, four inches thick and heavy with the weight of fifteen years, crumbled into dust and jagged shards. The noise was immediate and violent, a grinding shriek of stone on stone that vibrated up through the soles of my boots. I pulled the lever...
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