Mac swung the heavy wooden spool of braided copper wire off the top shelf with his right hand, catching the rim against his prosthetic steel forearm with a dull clatter.
“Got the six-gauge strap, kid,” Mac called out, his boots scuffing across the concrete floor. “Where are the grounding clamps?”
“Bottom drawer of the workbench,” Julian said, jogging down the narrow stockroom aisle. “Behind the box of three-quarter-inch galvanized pipe straps.”
Inside the breakroom, the Hamilton ventilator gave another sharp, urgent beep. The digital battery display was flashing bright amber, with six minutes remaining before the internal gel-cell depleted completely.
Elena stood by the gurney, her fingers lightly resting on the pulse point of Clara’s wrist. Her other hand held the manual silicone resuscitator bag, ready to take over ventilation the second the pump faltered.
“Voltage drop is accelerating, Julian,” Elena said, her voice clipped and professional. “Battery heat is bleeding off the remaining charge. We have less time than the display indicates.”
“Arthur gave us the blueprint,” Julian said, pulling two heavy bronze grounding clamps and a pair of insulated crimping pliers from the metal drawer. “We don’t touch the wall outlet until the sink is locked.”
Devon Wu leaned over the metal desk, watching the Casio pocket-register on Julian’s belt. The thermal print-head gave another short flutter, spitting out half an inch of fresh white tape:
