Kalisha Benson and her group reached the locked door to Front Half as the hum abruptly stopped. The Institute began to groan and shudder. A massive blast blew the steel door between the access tunnel and Front Half’s F-Level outward, crushing Rosalind Dawson and killing her instantly. Overhead, the light fixtures rippled and cast warped shadows as the building’s stress intensified.

Kalisha identified the convulsion as a “mindquake,” concluding the psychic force had shifted away from Back Half. Tasting acrid air, the group realized poison was flooding the lower levels. Kalisha led George, Nicky, and Helen into the stairwell instead of the elevator as the structure cracked, emergency lights engaged, and coughing worsened.

As they climbed, the building tilted and pipes and conduits tore apart. On B-Level, the air marginally improved, but the staircase heaved and ceiling debris rained down. At the slanted ground-level door, their combined telekinetic effort—joining hands until the “dots” came—wrenched it open despite the warped frame.

They stumbled into the canted residence corridor, past rooms flinging doors open and shut like frantic applause. In the canteen, fallen vending machines and shattered liquor nips littered the floor. The playground doorframe was twisted and jammed, but its glass was gone, letting in clean outside air on a summer breeze.

At the playground threshold, Kalisha froze at a startling vision: projected images of Avery Dixon, Iris, Hal, Len, Jimmy, Donna, and the other Ward A children circling a giant telephone. She recognized them as avatars rather than physical bodies, confirming a long-distance psychic working. The projection vanished as the floor rose again.

The lounge began separating from the playground, opening a widening gap. With the Institute still groaning and rising beneath them, Kalisha urged the others to hurry and jump to the exterior while they still could, prioritizing immediate escape from the collapsing, poisoned interior.