The lift door in front of Eli was gray. In his memory, it had been red.
For a moment he saw both colors. The emergency indicator glowed beside the control, and Martin Reeve lay against the padded wall while Tessa checked his breathing. Then the red door replaced the gray one, and the lift became the passage from the raid where Eli had died.
“Tessa, move,” he said.
She did not look up. “I’m treating him.”
“The door is going to seal.”
“We’re in the service lift. The door is already closed.”
Her answer sounded wrong. In the remembered passage, the door had not yet closed. The people behind it had been shouting, and the order to retreat had come too late. Eli reached for her arm.
“We have to go now.”
