Nabil's blood gave the missing body a foot.
Red climbed an invisible ankle and stopped at a knee higher than Kestrel's head. The shape stood inside six meters that belonged to neither side.
Asa watched it through his survey glass seventy-two years earlier.
"One foot in your room," he said. "One on our west trench. The body reaches somewhere else above the waist."
"Describe what has weight," Rina told him.
"Doors. Axles. Bridge stone. Paper around the joints."
The blood spread enough for the present cameras to find edges.
Its shin was a row of vehicle doors pressed end to end. Each door opened onto a different empty interior. One held bus seats with rain falling upward. Another showed the rear of a delivery van cut clean at the front axle. A third opened onto a child's bicycle turning on a road with no ground.
Paper wrapped the knee.
Arrival forms, cargo receipts, evacuation tickets, and two hospital transfer bands tightened whenever the body shifted.
