“My feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee—” “Jesus,” Garraty muttered. “Why doesn’t he stop that?” The screams went on and on. “I doubt if he can,” McVries said clinically. “The back treads of the halftrack ran over his legs.” Garraty looked and felt his stomach lurch into his throat. It was true. No wonder the redheaded kid was screaming about his feet. They had been obliterated.
