Oh, Jesus! Mercy gasped, not that she thought He might be listening. Beneath her body, she could feel the sway and give and tug of the weakened wheels, and an added quiver to the carts retreat.
Mickey! Clinton cried.
Mercy looked up just in time to see him wobble back and forth to the rhythm of the fleeing horses, and begin to fall. Clinton grabbed him and jerked him back onto the seat, but couldnt hold him steady; so the nurse leaped from her crouch and snagged the driver, pulling him back into the cart and right on top of herself, since there was no chance to maneuver him and no steady spot to put him down.
Clinton seized the reins.
With the help of Gordon Rand and the students, Mercy rolled Mickey over and patted him down in the darkness. She could see
almost nothing, but she could feel a copious, warm dampness. Captain! she said. Bring that lantern over here!
Were supposed to keep it turned off!
Turn it up, just a spark. I need to see. And I dont think it matters now, nohow. She took the lantern from his hand and twisted the knob just enough to bring it up to a pale glow, barely enough illumination to help. The light swung wildly back and forth from its wire handle, and the whole scene looked unreal, and hellish, and rattled. Hes bleeding bad.
Not that bad . . . , he slurred, and his eyes rolled up in his head.
Black-haired Mickey had lost a chunk of that pretty mane, exposing a slab of meat that Mercy prayed didnt show any bone, but couldnt get a stable enough look to see if it went as deep as that. His left ear was gone, and a terrible slash along his jawline showed the white, wet underpinning of his gums.
The Englishman said, He mustve gotten hit by a bit of that last tree.
Mustve, Mercy said. She pulled Mickeys head into her lap and daubed the wound until it was mostly clean.
Ernie asked, Can you help him?
Not much, she confessed. Here, help me get him comfortable. She adjusted his body so that his oozing head rested against the older womans thigh. Sorry, she told her. But Ive got to get inside my bag. Give me a second.
The woman mightve given the nurse a second, but the line wouldnt.
A cannonball shot across the road in front of them, blasting a straight and charred zone through the woods, across the two wheel ruts, and into the trees on the other side, where something was big enough to stop it. A second followed the first, then a third.
The horses screamed and reared, and Clinton wrestled with the reins, begging them with swears, threats, and promises to calm themselves and for Gods sake, keep pulling . One after another the horses found their feet and lunged, heaving the damaged cart forward again. But the axle was creaking dangerously, and Mickey wouldnt stop bleeding, and in the empty spaces between the trees, gunfire was whizzing and plunking against trunks.
Were too heavy, the copilot said, and withdrew to the farthest corner, away from the damaged axle. The cart isnt going to make it!
One more mile! shouted Clinton. Were halfway to the rail lines; it only has to make it one more mile!
But its not gonna, Mercy cried.
Holy Jesus all fired in hell! Clinton choked, just loudly enough for the nurse to hear him. She looked up to see where he was staring, and glimpsed something enormous moving alongside them, not quite keeping pace but ducking back and forth between the thick trunks of the trees that hid almost everything more than twenty yards away.
What was that? she asked loudly, forgetting her manners and her peril long enough to exclaim.
They didnt just bring the engine, Clinton said to her, half over his shoulder while he tried to watch the road. Those bastards brought a walker!
Whats a-?
Another rock or a pothole sent the cart banging again, then the axle snapped, horrifying the horses and dragging the back end down to the ground, spilling out passengers and cargo alike. Mercy wrapped her torso around Mickey and her arm around the old woman who held him and stayed that way, clinging to a corner under the drivers seat until the horses were persuaded to quit dragging the dead weight and let the thing haul to a stop.
Half off the road and half on it, the cart was splayed on its side much like the Zephyr had wound up, only open and even more helpless looking.
Goddammit! Clinton swore as he climbed down from the cart in a falling, scrambling motion. He then set to work unhitching the horses. A swift hail of bullets burst from the trees. One of the horses was struck in a flank, and when it howled, it sounded like some exotic thing-something from another planet. It flailed upward onto two legs again, injured, but not mortally.
Mercy set to work directing the old couple, who had remained in what was left of the broken cart; and with a grunt she hefted Mickey up and slung him over her shoulder like a sack of feed. He was bigger than her by thirty pounds or more, but she was scared, and mad, and she wasnt going to leave him. He sagged against her, nothing but weight, and blood soaked down the back of her cloak where his earless scalp bounced against her shoulder blade.