Priya’s fingers locked around the rubber tubing before Elena let go.
“Keep the steel bell dead-center on his sternum,” Elena ordered, leaning over Bed 2. “Don’t blink. Don’t shift your feet.
As long as you hear that boy’s heart, the charter protects this room.”
“I won’t let go,” Priya said, her knuckles white against the metal diaphragm. “Go fix the diesel. The battery buzzer is already screaming.”
Elena spun on her heel and slapped Julian’s shoulder. “Sub-basement stairwell. Follow me!”
Julian and Mac bolted down the emergency hall right behind her clogs.
They took the concrete stairs three at a time. The emergency stairwell had no lights -- only the dim yellow reflection of glow-in-the-dark stair tape peeling off the risers. The smell of cold cement, stagnant boiler water, and old fuel oil grew heavier with every flight they descended.
By the time they hit Sub-Basement Level 2, the air was hot and thick enough to chew.
