McCue said suddenly, "I think the rain's stopped." They crowded to the window; he was right. The drizzle had ended and the mist was clearing.
"Good," Chesbro said. "They'll be able to get helicopters up. It's only a matter of time now until they spot us."
Groff said, "I don't think the old man can wait."
Chesbro spread his hands eloquently. "What can we do?"
"Pack him in on our backs," Groff said.
Chesbro said soothingly, "I don't think that'd be practical, Mickey. We're all exhausted, we've all had a touch of gas poisoning. We know more or less where we are and we know which way the town is, but we don't know what lies between us and the town. We may just circle around until we drop from exhaustion. There's a better chance of us being spotted if we stay in this place."
"We're three able-bodied men," Groff said, his temper rising. "We can take turns. A helicopter's just as likely to spot us on a road as it is to spot us here. Chesbro, I'd like to sit here and wait to be rescued too; I don't have a yen to go sloshing through the water with Starkman on my back either. But I don't think he can wait. We've got to do everything we can."
"I've got my manuscript to carry," Sharon said apologetically.
"We'll do everything we can," Chesbro said reasonably. "But what's the sense of endangering all of us uselessly? The trip wouldn't be good for him. And the women—my wife isn't strong, Mickey, she shouldn't be subjected to—"
"Arthur," said his wife. "Shut up."