Julian Vance took his first step backward into the dark aisle.
One.
His left boot heel met the grooved rubber floor of the center aisle with a firm, solid thud. The vibration traveled up his leg, anchoring him to the heavy rhythm of the Detroit Diesel turning below the floor plates.
Beside the front wheel-well, Lin Mei gripped her steel stopwatch. Her voice rang out clear and measured over the sound of the wind:
“Step one confirmed. Nine seconds remaining on the audit timer.”
In the driver’s seat, Mac Cole kept the forty-foot coach locked on a straight line. His right hand never moved from the ten o’clock rim of the wheel. His left titanium stump remained bolted to the Bendix air-brake paddle by Elena’s triangular fiberglass splint. On the dashboard air gauge, the brass needle rested motionless at ninety-one point five pounds per square inch.
“Holding thirty-two miles an hour, Chief,” Mac called out, staring dead ahead into the river fog. “Deck is level. No drift. Keep your heels centered between the seat legs.”
Julian’s gaze never dropped to the floor.
