Four thousand degrees of burning thermite made no sound at first, only the quiet sizzle of melting stainless steel.
Julian Vance looked up at the curved ceiling panels of Car #3 as a circle of dull green paint blistered, blackened, and peeled away from the roofline. Directly above the center aisle, barely three feet above the chrome headrail of Clara’s ICU cot, the structural steel was turning cherry-red.
A foul, acrid smoke drifted down from the ceiling joints, smelling of burning magnesium ribbon, scorched flux, and overheated asphalt pitch.
“Cover her!” Elena shouted, throwing her entire body across the head of the gurney to shield Clara’s face.
Dr. Victor Corvo stripped off his heavy, grease-stained wool coat in a single motion, snapping the thick fabric over Clara’s blankets. Lin Mei grabbed the silver fiberglass emergency fire-blanket from the transit wall cabinet, unfurling the foil sheet over Corvo’s coat to create a heat-reflective barrier just as the first droplet of molten metal fell.
Tssss-POP!
A glowing drop of white-hot liquid steel struck the fiberglass floor three inches from Lin Mei’s boot. It burned straight through the ribbed black rubber runner, filling the vestibule with a blinding flash of yellow sparks and the choking stink of scorched sulfur.
