The heavy arrestor springs beneath the concrete platform gave one final creak as Julian stepped onto the dry slab.
Six inches of dark water covered the surrounding tiles of Sub-Basement B2.5. The frozen rime on Tanks 04, 08, and 12 crackled under the cold draft of the ventilation grates.
“Keep your boots on the concrete,” Elena said, stepping off the last plastic crate. “The current grounded out, but I don’t want to test the insulation twice.”
“Agreed,” Julian said. “One jolt of sixty-hertz memory is more than enough.”
He didn’t look at the frozen Hubbard tanks. He kept his eyes locked on the wheeled gurney in the middle of the platform.
Clara lay beneath the sterile white thermal blanket. The straps of the trauma harness held her shoulders and waist firmly against the mattress.
The green monitor light on her Hamilton ventilator pulsed in a steady, rhythmic blink.
Elena dropped to her knees beside the head-rail. She reached for the rubber tubes of her Littmann Cardiology IV stethoscope and slipped the earpieces into place.
