Blood crept out of the gash in his forehead, mingling with the dust and grime that caked his face. This resulted in several globulettes of bloody mud to roll into his eyes and mouth.

Then the pressure and pain registered in the darkness.

The darkness, he cursed silently. He blinked several times to assure himself that they were in fact open.

Stealing his courage for bad news he attempted to move his arms under this great weight. Trying to fool himself in advance that if he was unable to move it would be due to whatever burried him nearly to the neck, and not paralysis.

Both arms wiggled,and he was relieved to fight off numerous stabs of pain.

The triumph was interupted with two sharp blasts that were simultaneously distan and seemingly on top of him.

He now remembered the explosion and chuckled. After all, he was the one who had caused it and ultimately placed himself in this pickle.