"Help, yeah, got it," I say, swinging around wildly, then stepping into the street and throwing my arm up, virtually throwing myself into the path of one of the steam-powered carriages. That are apparently made by someone less prone to making crash-bait than I am.

"You! Yeah, you! Hold it, we need to get to the clinic, and I need... to figure out how to get him up in that carriage."

At least the driver seems solid enough to help, some, even if I'm not sold on help from one of the strange vanishing ghost folks of the city. I'll take what I can get.