Marcus “Mac” Cole kept his right hand welded to the steering wheel at ten o’clock.
His left arm—a heavy chrome-plated prosthetic terminating in his twelve-hole Star-Notch Master Route-Punch—rested flat against the brass Bendix air-brake lever.
Beneath his boots, the Detroit Diesel Series 60 engine vibrated through the floorboards at fifty-eight hertz.
“How is your air pressure holding, Mac?” Julian Vance called from the open step-well.
“Main reservoir is at ninety-five PSI,” Mac answered, his gravel voice cutting through the rising water roar. “Secondary tank is ninety-two. We have plenty of air for the brakes.”
“What about the transmission fluid temperature?” Lin Mei asked from the front partition.
“One hundred and sixty degrees,” Mac said, glancing at the round Stewart-Warner gauge. “The Allison automatic is ready to bite the moment I drop the selector.”
“Look at the elevator doors!” Mac called out, nodding through the wide windshield. “Forty-ton diamond-plate deck is waiting for us!”
