Vikram watched her work. He thought about the systems Ms. Nair had put in place — the tasks for each year group, the inventory team, the monitoring, the rationing — and he thought about how the systems had held. All of them had held. Thirty-two children on a rock shelf for three hours, and the systems had held, and everyone was accounted for, and the help had come.
"The radio," Dr. Sharma said to him. "Can you tell them we have all thirty-two children? They'll need the count."
He pressed transmit. "Rudraprayag, this is Vikram on the slope. Rescue team has reached us. All thirty-two children are accounted for. Medical assessment in progress. Please confirm helicopter status."
The response came back immediately. "Confirmed, Vikram. Helicopter is four minutes out. You'll hear it before you see it in these clouds. All thirty-two, understood."
He held the radio. He listened. And then, through the sound of the flood and the rain and the mountain — faint at first, then unmistakable — he heard the helicopter.
