He began pulling wads of cotton-soft padding from the car seat. "Our car's dead. We will be too if we don't get out."

"I can't," she repeated.

Herbert moved the collar of her blouse aside and gently dabbed at the blood on her wound. The hole wasn't large. He wouldn't be surprised if the bullet was a.22 fired from some homemade piece of crap by one of the kids in the crowd.

Stupid punks, he thought. They'd puke at the sight of their own damn blood.

"I'm afraid," Jody said suddenly. She started to whimper. "I was wrong. I'm still afraid!"

"It's okay," Herbert said. "You're asking too much of yourself."

Herbert felt bad for the kid, but he couldn't afford to lose her. Not now. He didn't doubt for a moment that Karin would be coming after him, alone or in force. The caduceus of Nazism had to be coated with the blood of the conquered to serve as an emblem of power.

"Listen, Jody," Herbert said. "We're close to where we started, about a mile from the main road. If we can get there we'll be okay."

Herbert turned to the glove compartment and opened it. He found a bottle of acetaminophen inside and gave two to Jody. Then he reached into the backseat, retrieved one of the water bottles, and gave her a drink. When she was finished, he let his hands drop behind the seat. He was feeling for something.

"Jody," he said, "we need to get out of here."

He found what he was looking for. "Sweetie," he said, "I've got to fix the wound."

She opened her eyes. "How?" she asked, wincing as she shifted her shoulder.

"I've got to take the bullet out. But there's no tape for a bandage or thread for a suture. When I'm done I'm going to have to cauterize it."

She was suddenly more alert. "You're going to burn me?"

"I've done it before," Herbert said. "We have to get out of here and I haven't got the horsepower to do that." He said, "What I'm going to do will hurt, but you're hurting now. We've got to fix that."

She lay her head back.

"Hon? We don't have time to waste."

"All right," she rasped. "Do it."

Holding his hands low where she couldn't see, he lit a match and held it to the tip of his Urban Skinner to sterilize it. After a few seconds he blew out the flame and used his fingers to gently open the wound. The back of the shell glinted in the yellow light of the car. Taking a deep breath, Herbert placed his left hand over her mouth. "Bite me if you have to," he said as he raised the knife.

Jody groaned.