“Look at me,” I said. “Sailor. Look at me.”
He didn’t.
“Look at me!” I yelled.
His eyes moved. They found my face.
“What’s your name?” I said.
He didn’t answer.
“What’s your name, sailor?”
“Carrick,” he whispered. “Seaman Apprentice Carrick.”
“First name.”
“Jimmy.”
“Jimmy,” I said. “You’re going to be fine. You hear me? You’re going to be fine. I’ve got you.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. I held it there.
“Now we’re going to drive this tractor out of here,” I said. “Together. You steer. I’ll tell you where.”
His hands were still frozen on the wheel. I put my hands over his.
“Left,” I said. “Easy. Left.”
He turned the wheel. Left.
“Now forward. Slow.”
He pressed the gas. The tractor moved. The A-7 behind us moved with it.
“Keep going,” I said. “Don’t look at the fire. Look at me. Keep looking at me.”
