Lowary felt so helpless. He said, "There is nothing I can do. This bridge must be kept open for relief purposes. It is out of my hands."
"You're a murderer. You're keeping us here to be killed."
"There were other routes open. You should have taken—" The woman flung herself at him, beating at his chest with her thin hands. "I want to go home," she screamed.
Lowary took her by the wrists and held her off gently. God give me strength, he prayed. It would be so easy to let her through, along with the others. They would be safe, perhaps. But he would be running the risk of losing the bridge. Everyone in the City wouldn't die, some would survive the hell blast. They would need medical attention, supplies, food and water. They deserved that chance.
A man's heavy voice carried above the shouts. "We can get through if we all try it at the same time. He can't shoot us ... he's in the line of fire."
Lowary hadn't realized it, but it was true. The machine-gunners were sighting down his back. He shouted above the rising din, "It makes no difference, they'll shoot if they have to."
"It's a lie," a woman shouted. Lowary heard the whine of a powerful motor start up. "Well, I'm for giving it a try," he heard someone far back say.
Lowary turned and faced the gunners. He could see Morgan's strained face. The kid looked so young, yet he was the only one Lowary felt he could depend on. "If anything moves down here I want you to open fire," he called to Morgan. "Understand?"
Morgan's helmet nodded slowly.
Lowary turned around. The woman seemed undecided. Lowary spoke softly. "Why don't you get down off the road, into that gully? You'll be safe there."