“Start on the left bank, Julian,” Clara whispered in the dark.
She held the heavy vulcanized rubber sleeve of the green answering cord in her right hand. Her fingers were steady, but her pulse hammered in her throat.
Beside her, Julian did not answer with words. He gripped the slim cylinder of his 365nm UV pen between his teeth.
He clicked the tail-cap switch.
A narrow cone of violet ultraviolet light beamed from between his lips. The soft beam illuminated the rows of copper sockets without ruining their night vision.
Under the ultraviolet light, the brass ferrules of the twelve active jacks glowed with an eerie greenish-purple halo.
“In a mass casualty event, we have sixty seconds to triage five patients,” Elena whispered, stepping up behind Clara’s chair.
“Black tag for deceased, red tag for immediate intervention,” Elena said quietly. “If you hesitate on a dying patient, the next three bleed out.”
