Iven brought the remaining shelter groups to the service entrance in turns. She could not gather everyone beside the damaged wall, and she would not ask the people who could walk to choose for those who needed carrying. Renn stayed with the departure board while volunteers carried the same short account between the seating sections.
The wider passage had carried the first convoy to safety. It could carry no further traffic until an engineer assessed the new break. The narrower passage remained usable only if its turns could accommodate the patients and their equipment. Eli’s inherited talents were unavailable. Nobody was to make a plan that quietly counted on his return.
Deva listened from a wheeled chair with one foot supported on a folded blanket. Dust had settled on her hair. She asked the engineer whether remaining inside was a definite death sentence or merely another danger.
“Another danger,” the engineer said. “I can’t give you the next movement’s time. The roof here hasn’t failed. The gate pressure is changing.”
“Then say that when you go to the other sections.”
Iven nodded. She crossed out a volunteer’s phrase, no choice, on the account she was carrying. There were choices. None offered the safety people had expected when they entered a public shelter.
