Collins wanted to say that he couldn't, but he didn't have enough yet to argue with. He picked up the stretcher and looked down at the white feet in the Scotch plaid slippers.
Candle opened the door and waited for them to go through.
The girl on the stretcher parted her lips and rolled her head back and forth, a puzzled expression of pain on her face.
Collins nearly dropped the stretcher, but he made himself hold on tight.
"Ed! Doc! She moved! She's still alive."
"Cut that out now, Sam," Ed Michaels snapped. "Just carry your end."
"She's alive," Collins insisted. "She moved again. Just turn around and take a look, Ed. That's all I ask."
"I hefted this thing once, and that's enough. You move, Sam. I've got a .38 in my belt, and I went to Rome, Italy, for the Olympics about the time you were getting yourself born, Sam. I ought to be able to hit a target as big as you. Just go ahead and do as you're told."
Collins turned desperately towards Candle. Maybe Nancy had been right, maybe he had been imagining things.
"Doc, you take a look at her," Collins begged.