Julian Vance knelt on the cold rubber floor runner before the Duncan Model 90 Fare-Box.
Behind him, thirty feet down the center aisle, the open rear jackknife door flapped in the river gale.
Slap-HISS! Slap-HISS!
Freezing river fog poured through the open six-inch gap, swirling in violent eddies around the brown vinyl seats.
“Eyes locked on the front windshield!” Julian roared, his voice cutting through the roar of rushing air. “Nobody turn around! Nobody look behind the Yellow Standee Line!”
“I’m locked on the front glass, Julian!” Elena shouted from the front platform. Her boots were planted wide, her body shielding Clara’s isolette. “Windshield only!”
“Forward glass locked!” Lin Mei cried out, her eyes fixed on the wipers. “Julian, the rear draft is pulling cabin heat!”
“Is Clara’s temperature dropping, Elena?” Julian called out without turning his head.
