The fourth cot lost a wheel at the lift threshold.
Denna caught the frame before the patient rolled onto Toman. The lift hung six inches below the Switch Nine floor, held there by a brake shoe with half its teeth stripped. One cot remained inside with its rear legs wedged against the cage. Three others crowded the floor behind Denna, leaving a path barely wide enough for the hand-pump patient to reach the street.
Toman squeezed the pump bag against his coat. Blood from his split palms marked each fold.
"The next chain slip drops the cage below my remaining leverage."
"Then spend your leverage on the bag while I move the wheel."
Denna put her shoulder under the cot rail. The patient was awake, a woman old enough to know when people softened their voices around a bad chance. She gripped the blanket above her knees and watched Denna work.
"My left hip carries a steel cup, so dropping that side will cost everyone more time."
