Qinghe was on his feet before he realized he had stood up.
The woman lay partly beneath the step, one arm trapped under her chest.
Dust settled in her hair and blew across her back while the man beside her struck the door again. Then he crouched and tried to lift her by the shoulders.
"Don’t move," Qinghe told Zeyu, gripping the back of Shichen’s seat. "She’s too close to the wheels."
"I see her," Zeyu replied, keeping his foot on the brake.
Outside, the woman’s head fell forward. The man nearly lost his hold before catching her against his chest. He looked up at the window, squinting through the dust. His shirt had slipped away from his mouth, but he didn’t seem to notice.
"Please," the man shouted. "She can’t breathe out here."
Qinghe reached for the speaker controls, and Jingwei moved his hand to let him through.
"Can she hear you?" Qinghe asked, watching her chest. "Ask her to look at you."
The man stared toward the window, then bent to speak into her ear. She lifted her head a little before burying her face against his shoulder, coughing so hard that her whole body shook.
"She’s awake," the man called. "Open the door."
He shifted his feet beneath him, preparing to lift her as soon as they unlocked it.
"We aren’t opening the door," Hanchuan said, his voice carrying through the microphone behind Qinghe. "You need to keep her away from the wheels."
The man looked past Qinghe, searching the seats behind him.
"You’ve got room," the man pleaded, tightening his hold on the woman.
Cool air brushed Qinghe’s neck. There were clean towels in the cupboard and water within reach. He could see why the man kept looking through the glass, hoping someone would let him in.
"There’s less wind between us and the wall," Qinghe told him. "Can you bring her around the front?"
The man glanced toward the building. Dust swept across the yard, hiding the loading doors, then briefly clearing enough to reveal them again. He pulled the woman closer and tried to stand, but her cry stopped him.
"Her leg," the man said, lowering himself again. "She hurt it when the chair tipped."
Qinghe checked the side camera and enlarged the image. Her left foot was caught beneath the lowest step.
"Her foot’s stuck under the step," Qinghe told him. "You need to get it free before you lift her."
The man eased her down and reached underneath. He stopped when she cried out, then tried again more slowly. Her foot came free, leaving her shoe behind.
Across the aisle, Zhiyi shifted against Hanchuan.
"Bring her around the front," Zhiyi said to Qinghe. "They’ll be more exposed if they go behind us."
Qinghe passed on the direction. Outside, the man wiped his face against his shoulder and peered toward the front bumper.
"You won’t move?" the man asked, looking up at them again.
"I’ll stay right here," Zeyu promised, leaning toward the microphone. "Get her around to the wall."
The man worked his arms beneath her and began dragging her backward. Her bare heel scraped the concrete before he managed to lift it clear.
Qinghe watched them move from one camera view to the next until they disappeared around the front.
He left the sound on.
For several seconds, he could hear only the wind and her coughing. Then they appeared beside the wall, where the man sat with his back against the building and held her upright against his chest.
Qinghe released Shichen’s seat. His fingers ached from gripping it.
"What happened to the other man?" Shichen asked quietly. "Is he coming back?"
The loading door was still closed. Someone continued knocking, but the blows were slower now, with long pauses between them.
When Qinghe asked about the second man, the one holding the woman glanced toward the shutter.
"He went inside," the man replied.
"Did he come here with you?" Qinghe asked.
"He was helping me carry her," the man explained, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. "Said I’d never get her through by myself."
The woman stirred and whispered something. He bent to hear her, then shook his head.
"Don’t worry about the chair," he told her. "Leave it."
Qinghe looked out through the windshield. The overturned chair slid across the concrete until it caught against a discarded bag. Another gust shifted it again, lifting a strip of fabric tied around one armrest.
He had seen relatives arrive at the hospital carrying slippers, glasses, or a favorite blanket, determined that the patient should have something familiar.
Here, the man had barely managed to get the woman out of the wind. There had been no way for him to bring the chair too.
She kept watching it until the dust hid it from view.
A sharp crack came from the other side of the mobile base.
Jingwei changed the main display.
Near the fence, a man was breaking the passenger window of the abandoned truck. He knocked the remaining glass away with a metal bar while a woman waited behind him, sheltering a child beneath her loose shirt.
"They’re getting into the truck," Jingwei said, watching the man reach through the broken window.
The door opened.
The man lifted the child inside, then helped the woman climb up. She struggled to find her footing while keeping the fabric over the child’s face.
Before he could follow them, the recessed door in the building swung open.
Two men came out with cloth wrapped around their faces. One hurried across the yard and grabbed him by the back of his shirt. Qinghe heard shouting, then the sound of a punch. The man staggered against the open truck door.
"That’s my truck!" the owner shouted. "Get them out!"
Inside, the woman pulled the child onto her lap. The owner reached past the man he had hit and caught her arm, trying to pull her down from the seat.
Qinghe leaned toward the controls, but Jingwei was already speaking.
"Leave them there," Jingwei called through the speaker. "They’re trying to get out of the storm."
The owner turned toward the mobile base. His gaze traveled along the windows and paused on the lights inside. He let go of the woman’s arm while his companion stopped beside the truck, holding a bar at his side.
"Then let them into yours," the owner shouted.
"Your truck was sitting here with the hood up," Jingwei replied. "They weren’t stopping you from going anywhere."
"You don’t know what’s wrong with it," the owner snapped.
The man he had hit pushed himself onto his knees. Blood dripped from his nose onto the cloth around his mouth. He caught the door handle and pulled himself up, only for the owner to shove him away again.
"Get out of my yard," the owner ordered, looking from the family to the mobile base.
Zeyu checked the gate, then the camera showing the couple beside the wall.
"They’re still too close," Zeyu told Hanchuan. "I can’t pull out yet."
"Keep an eye on them," Hanchuan replied, leaning forward to check the screen.
Outside, the owner walked toward their passenger window. His companion stayed beside the truck, holding its door open so the woman couldn’t close it.
"You heard me," the owner said, peering through the glass. "You can’t park here."
"We’ll leave when it’s safe to move," Jingwei told him.
The owner glanced into the gap between the mobile base and the wall. The woman was coughing again. The man holding her tried to stretch his shirt over her face as well as his own.
Qinghe expected the owner to order them away too. Instead, he turned back to the window.
"How much water have you got?" the owner asked.
Jingwei kept his hand beside the controls without answering.
"You’ve got air-conditioning while everyone out here is choking," the owner continued, stepping closer. "You want to stay in my yard, you can pay."
Hanchuan reached past Qinghe and pressed the microphone button.
"Step away from the vehicle," Hanchuan said.
The owner looked toward him, then down at the rifle beside Jingwei. He backed away without another word.
Qinghe watched him return to his companion. They stood close to speak over the wind, holding the cloth against their faces. Then the owner pointed toward the gate, and the other man hurried across the yard.
"Zeyu," Shichen said, turning toward him.
"I see him," Zeyu replied, checking the front camera again.
The woman’s legs still stretched across the narrow space they needed to pull through. The man holding her had his head bent over hers and hadn’t seen what was happening.
At the entrance, the owner’s companion started pulling the gate closed.
Jingwei sounded the horn, but the man kept going. He brought both sides together, lifted a chain from the fence post, and fed it through the bars.
Qinghe reached for the speaker to warn the couple beside the wall. Before he could speak, the truck owner returned to their window.
"The water first," the owner said.