Ned catches every wince and indrawn breath, though it's obvious to him that Meyer's doing everything he can to hide how much pain he's in. He can feel the blood soaking into his own shirt, but it only worries him in that it indicates how badly Meyer is bleeding and how quickly he needs to get him to the clinic. Ned is walking as fast as he can without risking tripping, arms already aching under the weight of Meyer - particularly the injured one. But he presses on because he has to, because it's important. Meyer is his friend and he's hurt terribly, and no amount of discomfort is going to stop Ned from helping in every way he can.

But still, it's a bit more than he can manage to casually chat at the same time, so he merely answers Meyer's question with a small shake of his head. He's thankful, perhaps for the first time, that this town is so small, that he can get from the edge of the woods to the clinic so quickly. He tries not to let the impact of his steps jostle Meyer too badly, but he knows he's causing him additional pain with every second he's carrying him. Time seems to distend around him, seconds stretching themselves to the breaking point.

The door to the clinic is closed, but Ned doesn't want to set Meyer down on the ground. So, he compromises, leans one shoulder on the doorjamb for support and kicks violently at the door - once, twice, three times. He accompanies this by yelling, "Bruce! Bruce, open the door!"