They moved slowly, deliberately. One man steadied the frame, another supported each person until their feet found the ground, and two more guided the evacuees toward the safe gathering area away from the building. The drop was awkward but manageable. More important, the cold air entering through the openings gave the room a fresh, ordinary smell that made everyone breathe a little easier.
Eli counted six people outside. Then twelve. Then eighteen.
Every time someone cleared the window, Garrett called the number to Ronan, who checked it against the roster. Mara crossed off each group on a clipboard. The system was simple, but it made each person visible as an individual instead of a face in a frightened crowd. Eli understood why that mattered. When people are afraid, a total number can become a blur. A name keeps the number human.
The emergency lights flickered once. Someone near the back of the room coughed and asked whether the building smelled strange. Eli looked toward the air vents above the tables and felt a surge of dread. Maybe it was only dust stirred up by the movement. Maybe the air had already begun circulating differently. The uncertainty was unbearable.
He knew that Ronan had ordered him to stay upstairs. He also knew that the control room was the only place where the display might show what the system had already done. He hesitated beside the hallway door, weighing the instruction against the possibility of bringing back information that would help. It was the same kind of decision he had made at the fence, except that this time he understood the danger more clearly.
He made the wrong choice for a reason that felt, at the time, like the right one.
Without telling Ronan, Eli returned to the rear platform and descended the stairs alone.
The underground control room was darker than before. The emergency lighting had not reached it, and his little keyring flashlight produced only a thin circle of visibility. The old analog gauges sat motionless in their cabinets. The modern equipment, powered by some separate source, was still active.
The indicator was red.
Eli approached only as close as he could without touching the unit. The display showed a sequence log rather than a simple countdown, and he read the visible lines slowly, checking each label against the symbols on the wall diagram. Several air-handling changes had already been recorded. Others were pending. He could not determine what the system was ultimately intended to release, but the final command contained one word he recognized immediately.
Release.
A time appeared beneath it, just over forty minutes remaining.
Eli stared at the numbers. He knew from Jonah's lessons that one word on an industrial display could mean different things depending on the equipment it controlled. He also knew that unknown cylinders, a modified ventilation system, and a sequence headed toward a release should never be treated as harmless. Whether the substance was toxic, oxygen-displacing, or something else entirely, there was no safe reason for sixty-three people to remain inside while the system operated.