Even with her mighty engines in reverse, the ocean liner was pulled further and further into the canal. There was no way it was going to stop, not at this speed.
For a moment, there was silence. Then the ship’s horn blared as it struck the bell tower. Debris rained down on deck, bursting through the floorboards. Passengers screamed. They ran. Not very far.
Some accepted their fate, held onto loved ones. The top third of the tower tilted, casting them in shadows, then burying them beneath century-old architecture.
Fireballs sprang from the ships engine, first decimating that romantic gondola route, then covering the city with a thick black cloud of dust. Only not all of it was dust. Passengers were incinerated and their ashes scattered without someone to do it for them, or along with someone who would have.
Fire raged for days. Helicopters circled the city. Survivors were few.