The concrete floor of Sub-Basement B2.5 trembled under the drainage pumps.
Cool river damp drifted through the shafts, smelling of ozone and rubbing alcohol. On the arrestor platform, the Stryker gurney stood locked against the iron railing.
Julian knelt on the cold concrete beside his sister’s bedrail.
The Hamilton ventilator clicked with mechanical precision, pumping filtered air into Clara’s lungs. On the monitor, a pale green trace flickered.
“Four point zero hertz,” Elena Rostova said, crouching on the opposite side of the gurney.
Her clinical fingers checked the pulse point at Clara’s neck.
“How does her carotid feel?” Julian asked.
“Faint but regular,” Elena answered. “Her delta waves are still erratic, Julian. She knows we moved her from the ward, but her consciousness is trapped beneath the sedation.”
