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“Command,” he said, and hated the way his voice thinned. “We have a possible victim.”

Everything paused without becoming silent. Pumps idled outside. Water tapped on sheet metal. A radio somewhere repeated an order Jethro did not hear. Aurora came back at once.

“Copy possible victim. Do not disturb. Confirm conditions stable.”

Eloise checked the overhead conveyor and the shoring while Kai probed the floor around the void. Jethro angled the imager, though there was no heat where a living person should have been. He knew before he crouched.

The figure lay curled on one side beneath the conveyor, clothed in layers that had burned away in places. He did not look longer than necessary. Training gave him tasks: identify, assess, communicate, protect the scene. Training did not give him any way to make the sight smaller. He reached as far as the safe boundary allowed and found no sign of life.

“Confirmed victim,” he said. “Deceased.”

No one mentioned that they had all expected this after the doorway report. Expectation was not armor. Kai remained beside Jethro, his shoulder nearly touching Jethro’s air cylinder.

“Tell me that’s the only one,” Sonny said over the crew channel. It was not a joke.

Jethro looked deeper into the void. The conveyor crossed a section of floor where office partitions had once made narrow storage rooms. Debris formed pockets against the inner wall. In the second pocket, a boot protruded beneath blackened canvas. In the third, he saw what might have been a sleeve. His stomach tightened.

“Command, hold traffic.”

Aurora cleared the channel. Jethro counted what he could see, then counted again because his mind refused the total.

“We may have multiple victims in this area. At least three indicators. We need the recovery team and additional shoring.” For several seconds Aurora did not answer. When she did, every word was measured.

“Copy multiple victims. Withdraw to the marked safe zone. Nobody touches anything.” Kai released a breath that sounded like a laugh without humor.

“Simple dumpster fire my ass,” he murmured. Jethro backed away from the void.

“Yeah.” Sonny answered softly from outside.

“Quick in and out. Home before the coffee gets vindictive.” No one told him to stop.

Naomi mapped the room from outside while sheriff and Belle Fleur photographers waited. Although it was technically parish land. Anything within a twenty mile radius was seen as Belle Fleur’s interests.

Fire crews opened only what they were directed to open. The first victim was recovered from the conveyor void. The clothing suggested an adult, but heat and collapse had taken every quick certainty, including identity.

The second lay several feet away, shielded by a fallen section of wall. The third was near the interior corridor. When the recovery team found the fourth, a silence spread that no order had imposed. The radio, normally crowded with updates, became sparse and formal.

“Victim located.”

“Copy.”

“Package moving.”

“Copy.”

Each exchange reduced a life to procedure because procedure was the only language sturdy enough to carry it out. Jethro stood at the entry control board and marked crews in and out. His handwriting worsened with each line.

Kai returned from a rotation and sat on an overturned bucket, elbows on his knees. Sonny handed him water.

“You look terrible,” Sonny said. Kai accepted the bottle.

“Thank you. I’ve been developing the look for years now. I thought the Marines perfected it for me but it seems this gig is even more effective.”

“Needs less soot. More moisturizer.”

“Put it in my annual review.” Jethro glanced at them.

“Can either of you be normal for ten minutes?” Kai looked toward the screened recovery area.