Water in Shaft 37

Outside the stadium, a line stretched along the sidewalk. Everyone held a document, a prescription bottle, a plastic bag, a towel. Their faces had been worn down by heat and fear until they looked hollowed out. At the entrance stood volunteers in matching vests, badge tags flashing in the sun. People cried. People shouted. Parents lifted children high as if being seen faster might save them. “Looks organized,” Lin murmured. Lena said nothing and pulled him toward the side entrance. Around the back, a federal logistics truck was unloading water tanks. Several people with tablets stood nearby, checking names. Every time a name was marked off, someone was waved inside. It moved with the efficiency of a conveyor line. Then Erin froze.