Tracer fire began to seek the recoilless weapon like a probing finger. "Better get going, sir," me gunner said, throwing a bag over his shoulder. He pulled out a shining new grenade.
Valentine looked up the street and made his dash. He gestured to the gunners, trying to encourage them to hurry. The gunner nodded to the other two and tossed the grenade in with the shells under the tube. The three of them ran.
From the platform Valentine looked at the rail bridge. He saw the tailgate of a pickup, bumping as the tires negotiated the ties. Men walked single file on the pedestrian walkway, crossing over to the north side. Others were setting charges.
"Nail," Valentine said, as the Bears came up behind him with the recoilless gunners. "It'll have to be the boat. They're getting set to blow the bridge."
Nail nodded, and they turned for the riverbank. A few members of the rearguard were hurrying for the dock. Mortar shells were dropping around the train station.
Nail clapped Valentine on the back. "We really-"
An explosion boiled all around them. Valentine felt a warm hand give him a gentle nudge. He realized he was on the ground. Nail lay facing him, his leg on top of Valentine's, like two lovers in bed.
"You okay?"
"Sure," Nail gasped. He started to pick himself up. Neither of his legs moved.
Valentine tried to help him up. "Rain, anyone ... help!" His voice sounded like a far-off whisper.
"Legs ..." Nail said, looking up at Valentine. He'd never seen fear in the Bear's eyes before.
Valentine picked him up in a fireman's carry and trotted down toward the pier. The barge waited, huge and comforting.
"Cast off, cast off," the sergeant handling the loading called. Zhao was running between little groups, clapping them on the shoulder and pointing toward the barge. Valentine saw his old marines from the Thunderbolt leave the piled sandbags around the dock-sandbags were easily found around the riverbank-and run up the gangplank to the barge. There was a hint of light in the sky; by it Valentine saw the main deck of the barge piled high with sandbags. The cargo carrier in front was filled with people, mostly prisoners from the camp, and Zhao's company.
"Bandages!" the sergeant called, looking at Nail and Valentine. "Take him to the foredeck, sir. The wounded are there."
Valentine boarded, and went forward. Just below the pilot house a man in splints and one of the women lay under blankets next to Beck's two wounded. Field medics helped Valentine lay Nail out.
"Sorry about this, Nail." The inadequate words made him want to bite his tongue.
"Don't feel a thing, sir. Hardly hurts."
"Shrapnel," the medic said. "His back's kind of tore up. I've stopped the bleeding-most of it."
Valentine heard the muttering boat engines gun, and the barge moved away from the dock, heading upriver.
"Can I get you anything, Nail?"
"I want to see."
"You want to see?"
"The bridge go."
Valentine looked at the medic, who shrugged. "Let me get this dressing finished. Then we'll see," he said. Valentine couldn't remember giving orders about having an aid station set up on the boat. One of Styachowski or Post's additions. He heard bullets plinking off the old scow. The side of the boat was an irresistible target for any Quisling with a rifle and a view.
They passed under the old pilings of the railroad span. Valentine heard the distinctive clatter of a Kalashnikov fired from the River Rats' town.
When the medic finished with Nail's dressing Valentine pulled a soldier and they carried his stretcher to the back of the tug. The screws were churning the muddy waters of the Arkansas. Behind them they could see the bridge framed against a pink sky. The warehouses were going up, a ground-level fireworks explosion.
"We fucked with them good," Nail said, his eyes bright and excited. "That sight's worth getting all tore up over." The sky was growing brighter by the second.
"C'mon, guys, don't wait and try and take a few with the bridge," Valentine said. "Just-"
Explosions ripped across the bridge, and wood and rails spun into the sky.
"What the hell?" Nail said.