The last transfer reached the support with one carrier walking backward and the other watching the chalk beneath the brace.
Eli had begun doing the same thing. He could not see a stretcher approach without looking at the two pale marks Kellan had drawn across wedge and paving. They still met. The timber carried the plate; the jack carried its share; his hands were empty. He repeated those facts silently because the relief of them kept wearing off.
Sera stood beside the service steps with the mission record open. Tessa was coming from the turn, having sent the injured volunteers ahead. Kellan crouched beside the brace while Juno watched the plate’s upper edge. Mira had moved to the next handoff, beyond the place where the last team would need room to swing.
Everyone was somewhere he could name.
Then the stretcher’s front carrier called that she had lost her grip.
She had not dropped the patient. The wrapping on one handle had worked loose, and she was trying to reset her fingers without tilting the frame. Her partner stopped, obeying the practiced count. It left them beneath the outer end of the plate for the length of a breath.
A crack ran through the paving beside the jack.
