"Everyone okay?" Valentine asked.
"Some glass cuts," Ahn-Kha said. "Post's mate is hit in the foot. Let me get her shoe off."
Gail yelped again. "I want to go home," she wailed.
"I believe a toe is missing," Ahn-Kha said.
Pepsa nodded at Valentine.
"Pepsa, take my bag. See what you can do," Boothe said.
Ahn-Kha shifted to give her room to get in the back. Valentine heard his friend wheeze.
"Glass cuts?" Valentine said.
"I fear it may be more than that, my David," Ahn-Kha said.
"Who's David?" Boothe asked.
"Just drive, please."
"I could go faster if I turned on the lights."
"No," Valentine and Thatcher said in unison.
"Go left here," Thatcher said. "Good road."
Valentine, smelling blood, his stomach hurting as though he'd been mule-kicked, saw a distant patch of flame; a house burning over by the river. Somewhere there were people dancing in firelight. Somewhere Reapers were asking questions. Boothe made the turn, heading south.
The bumper ground as it scraped the road surface.
Ahn-Kha let out a gentle cough. "My David. I saw headlights hit the clouds far back. I believe we are being followed."
How far would the Ordnance chase them into Kentucky?
"Stop the car. I'll drive," Valentine said. "Doc, check out Ahn-Kha. Do what you can for him."
Valentine slipped into the driver's seat, and got the sport-utility vehicle moving as soon as he heard the back door close. Boothe switched places with Pepsa in the cargo area. Ahn-Kha kicked out a bullet-starred window.
You can do this. Nothing to be afraid of. You've driven before. Badly, but you've driven.
He could see farther than Boothe, and pushed the engine up past forty miles an hour. They ate miles. Every now and then the Lincoln hit a pothole with a resounding thump.
A flash blinded him. "You need help," Boothe said.
"Watch the light back there," Valentine said. Boothe had been using a flashlight to look at Ahn-Kha. Sudden increases in light gave him an instant headache.
Valentine spotted a legworm trail, the distinctive rise and thick vegetation cutting across a field.
"I'm going to go off-road," he told Thatcher.
Thatcher pushed a button on the center console, engaging the four-wheel drive. "Slow down. They'll see tire marks otherwise."
Valentine applied the brake, felt the Lincoln change gears. Automatic transmission made a huge difference in driving effort.
He turned onto the legworm trail. Any tree big enough to stop the Lincoln was avoided by the creature. The ground looked easier to the east, so he followed another legworm trail leading that way. He listened to the car cutting through weeds and grasses.
"I've done all I can," Boothe said. "The external bleeding's stopped, for now."