“Captain Sinclair goes in now.

Family waits in the west lounge.

It’s the one with the vending machines.”

“We are her family,” Evelyn said.

“You are.

The lounge is that way.”

Room four had a drawn blind and a machine pushing air into Rosalie at a slow, even rate.

Her face was so swollen that the skin under both eyes had gone black and yellow, and the rest of her was tape and tubing.