The sterile scent of rubbing alcohol was slowly losing its battle against the heavy, metallic odor of blood that clung to the warehouse walls. Outside, the tropical midnight downpour had settled into a relentless, rhythmic drumming against the corrugated iron roof, keeping the rest of the world locked away from the makeshift clinic.
Elena sat frozen on a low plastic stool beside the stainless-steel operating table. Her breath came in quiet, measured intervals, her eyes staring blankly at the dark crimson stains dried under her fingernails. The ruined emerald green silk of her gown hung loosely over her frame, stiff and damp from the sewer water and sweat. She hadn't moved in hours. Her body was an engine running entirely on the fading remnants of pure adrenaline.
On the table, the rhythm
