Part 8 (1/2)
”Bullets.” She drew her gun, backing slowly away. Opium darts wouldn't have much effect on a bra.s.s wheel.
Click click click. Growing louder. Closer to the door.
”Away from there, constable. Behind me.”
Weapon steady, Newberry backed toward her, his giant body all but blocking her view of the doors.
Click click click. Coming faster now, as if accelerating. Clickclickclick.
”Behind me, constable,” Mina repeated.
Clickclickclick-and something more? A m.u.f.fled shouting, perhaps- The doors blew open in an explosion of fire and shrapnel. Shouting, Mina dove to the ground, covering her face and ears. Shards of metal rained to the cobblestones. Burning pain sliced through her forearm.
Coughing, she looked up. Her constable had thrown himself beside her, his huge form like an unmoving boulder beside her. ”Newberry?”
”Here.” It was a groan.
”All right?”
”I think so, sir.”
Clickclickclick.
The bra.s.s wheel rolled through the swirling smoke. No, she realized. It didn't all roll-only the track that ran around the outside. The rest of it remained upright. Not all of the triangular sections on the side were closed.
Inside the wheel, a sandy-haired boy looked through the missing wedge, his color high, freckled face streaked with tears. ”I didn't want to! I didn't want to!”
What? Mina scrambled to her feet, ignoring the ache in her knees, the pain in her arm. ”Didn't want to? Come out of there!”
”I can't!” He was rocking slightly from side to side, shouting between huffs of exertion. Pedaling, Mina realized. ”Take Billy! And maybe I can stop!”
Billy? But the boy had closed the wedge, and the wheel suddenly started off down the lane, racing over the cobblestones. Oh, no. Mina sprinted after it. The clicking filled her head, but there was another sound now-a steam engine. A lorry waited at the end of the lane, a ramp leading up to the bed. The wheel rolled up. In a great huff of steam, the lorry lurched forward.
Oh, blast it! She couldn't shoot the d.a.m.ned thing, not with a boy inside. Tucking in her elbows, she ran behind the belching steam lorry-through Birdcage Alley, almost closing the distance between, until the lorry turned onto Newington Road, and began to gain speed. No traffic slowed it down. Though she could have run farther, Mina knew she'd lost it.
She needed the cart. Mina turned to look for Newberry, frowned. He wasn't as fast, but the constable ought to have been behind her. She started back, jogging at first, then sprinting again as worry settled into her gut. He'd said he was all right.
He wasn't. Still on the ground, sitting, but his face pale and his mouth in a grimace of pain. His hand pressed to his upper thigh. Blood pooled on the cobblestones beneath him.
”Newberry!” Mina knelt beside him, trying to stop the shaking of her hands. ”Let me see the wound, constable.”
”Yes, sir.” He sucked a breath through his teeth. ”And I'm sorry, sir. I thought I was all right until I pulled that shard out. Did you catch him?”
”No.” Oh, sweet heavens. Blood pumped in small rivulets from a deep gash in his thigh. The artery nicked. Newberry's bugs would heal it . . . if he didn't bleed out first. Heart racing, she ripped off her s.h.i.+rt sleeves, bunching one and shoving it against the wound, then tying the other around his ma.s.sive thigh. The sleeve wouldn't hold tight enough, but it would hold the wadded cloth on after the bleeding slowed. She pressed down on the cloth again when the white quickly turned red.
The constable seemed to choke. ”I don't think this is proper, sir.”
Mina looked up in disbelief. ”What?”
”Your hand.” He still had enough blood to blush a deep red. ”There.”
”You ought to thank the blessed stars that the shrapnel didn't damage something a few inches higher, constable.”
She knew he was going into shock when he replied, ”My Temperance will be glad it was not damaged, too.”
”I'm sure she will.” Taking his hand, Mina shoved his palm against the bunched cloth. ”Hold this. Hold it hard. I'm going to bring the cart around, all right?”
”No, sir. I've seen you drive it before. You'll kill us both.”
She'd take that chance. ”Hold it hard. Don't let up. And don't you dare faint on me, constable, or I will give you a reprimand of the likes you never seen.”
”Yes, sir.”
Mina ran for the cart. Blasted double-locks. They took extra time. She hauled them off, jumped in, closed the valve. Gears shrieked in protest, but she got it going forward. Down the lane around the workshop. Oh, faster, faster.
Her heart dropped to her stomach when she rounded the bend. He'd fainted. Sprawled out, no longer holding the cloth bunched at his thigh.
A little boy was. Perhaps seven years of age, sandy-haired and freckled, he pushed down on the cloth so hard that his arms shook.
Mina stopped the cart, jumped out. Newberry still breathed, his heartbeat quick but steady. She looked to the boy. ”Billy?”
”Yes. Am I doing it right?”
”Perfect.” She slid her arms under Newberry's shoulders. ”The bugs should have closed the artery up by now, but I need to get him into the cart. Can you help me with his legs?”
Billy nodded, scooted around in his threadbare trousers and bare feet. Though skinny, he was strong. He grabbed hold of each of Newberry's ankles like a boy pus.h.i.+ng a wheelbarrow.
With Newberry's upper half braced against her chest, Mina backed to the cart. ”Was that your brother in the wheel?”
Billy only shrugged.
”Can you tell me his name?”
Nothing.
”Is it Geordie?”
Though the boy didn't reply, the surprised flicker of his lids was answer enough.
”Will you come with me? When he left, Geordie asked me to 'Take Billy.' Does he have reason to want you away from here?”
The boy's gaze moved to the cart, as if he were considering it.
”I'll take you,” Mina said, lifting Newberry onto the pa.s.senger bench. She braced a hand against his chest to prevent him from sliding out. ”And then we'll find him and help him.”
Uncertainty chased across his face.
”I could use the help, too,” Mina said. ”You could keep my a.s.sistant from falling out of the cart.”