The rubber casters of the seven-foot cadaver cart screeched to a halt on the wet quarry tiles.
Julian Vance didn’t retreat. He stood his ground in the center of the corridor, his boots planted three feet in front of the stainless-steel bumper.
Elena stepped up beside him, her shears raised in a defensive grip.
“Stay behind the cart line, Julian,” Elena whispered. “Don’t let them flank us.”
“I’m watching their feet,” Julian replied softly. “They’re moving in fixed lockstep. They have no peripheral awareness.”
“Look at the wheels,” Elena said, pointing her penlight downward. “Heavy industrial casters with neoprene shock rings. This cart was built to move heavy cadavers from the operating table to the freezer without making a sound.”
“And look at the tray,” Julian noted. “Perforated stainless steel with a perimeter wash-gutter. It connects directly to the floor drains.”
The three surgical residents stood in a rigid, triangular formation behind the cart.
