Security locked the automatic doors, creating a hard boundary. Two officers erected portable stanchions, keeping staff back. “No darts unless directed,” the supervisor said into the radio. The bear remained motionless, as if the bay’s yellow lines held a special meaning. Water dripped from its muzzle in patient, unhurried ticks.
Anika stepped inside, stripped her wet jacket, then paused at the inner vestibule’s glass to look out. The animal held its post beneath the canopy as if on assignment. “Some piece of work,” she said, entering Trauma One. “Keep the bay secured. We need to prevent infection at all costs.”