This is the place of fear, desperation and death. It is a vast complex of buildings; the main one has a helicopter pad and radar on the roof. Inside are the seemingly infinite halls of the doomed.
There is a dull ache in the back of my jaw, on the left side, so dull that I sometimes doubt its reality, but it manages to occupy my mind with annoying persistence.
The first thing I see are the two bright round headlights shining through the fog of dusk, then the whole blue tram comes into view, snaking around curves in the track, screeching its brakes to a halt. A door is perfectly aligned to me.