Julian Vance saw the falling slab before it cleared the ceiling frame.
It was five hundred pounds of reinforced plate glass and twisted iron channel-beam, sheared clean off its wall anchors. It dropped like a guillotine through the rising steam, cutting straight down toward the corner of the catwalk.
Right toward Lin Mei and Dr. Beatrice Hahn.
“GET CLEAR!” Julian screamed, lunging across the iron deck.
He was fifteen feet away. He knew the math before his second step hit the grating.
Terminal velocity for a flat plate in free fall was thirty-two feet per second. He would arrive half a second too late.
Lin Mei looked up, her tortoiseshell glasses slipping down her nose. She didn’t run.
She couldn’t. Dr. Hahn’s wheelchair was locked behind the iron safety rail.
