Vince ran, shouting back at the others. “Go, go, go!” He led them across the churning deck, dodging heaps of debris and holes big enough to swallow a bus, surviving on luck as much as reflex. They made the railing, and seconds later, Carson pounded into view, arms stacked high with rolls of gray tape. But that was all; he had no rope. More struts broke free, the deck dropped three inches, and a crane toppled overboard. Carson skidded to a wheezing halt and dumped the tape at Vince’s feet. “No rope,” he said between breaths. “Storage sheds are trashed—couldn’t find any.” Vince stared at the tape, at Chuck, at Doc, then over the edge, with no idea what to do next. An explosion rocked the platform’s far side. Fire bloomed, and greasy black smoke feathered skyward, carrying the pungent aroma of scorched rubber and burning diesel underlain by a too-sweet smell that reminded Vince of burnt hot dogs. To the north, a section of decking disintegrated, showering the ocean with steel rain. Fissures jagged outward from the gaping hole like spreading cracks in thin ice, devouring the deck and heading their way. _______________________________ Is it clear what, "...heading their way." means? What do you think it means? I am concerned that I may have sacrificed clarity for brevity in this case, but cannot be certain. Thanks for any help.