The fourth shear-bolt sheared in two with a sound that felt like thunder inside Julian’s teeth.
The concrete slab under Bed 412 broke completely free from the floor frame.
Eighty tons of dead weight dropped straight toward the dark void.
“Hold the line!” Julian roared.
He threw his heels against the concrete door sill. He threw all his weight backward, gripping the greasy tail of the steel wire.
Elena was right behind him. Her gloved hands locked onto the cable, pulling with every ounce of strength in her frame.
SKRRRRRR-HISSSS.
The braided aircraft steel cable groaned as it whipped against the doorway column.
