The east shelter generator died while Jade had both hands inside a bleeding soldier's chest.
The lights above the triage tables snapped red. The fans slowed. Every monitor along the wall gave one sharp complaint, then fell into hungry silence.
Three children started crying from the far side of the gym.
"Manual pumps," Jade said.
Her voice came out steady.
Good.
She needed steady.
The soldier beneath her arched as the medic at his shoulder lost pressure on the wound. His uniform had been cut open from throat to belt. Black mud from the breach steamed against his ribs. It smelled like pennies and burnt rubber.
"I need power," the medic said.
"You need hands," Jade said. "Take mine when I count."
The medic swallowed once.
Jade's white eyes burned behind her lids.
