But what could keep us alert?
* * * * *
Driving back, I was preoccupied, hardly conscious of the little car's
deft progress over the slick roads. It was almost with a feeling of
detached interest that I saw the black skid-marks at the bottom of the
hill--then, with chill shock, the dark bulk of the sedan on its side in
the ditch.
I was slowing when a flashlight beam raked outward from the car,
showing crumpled metal and broken headlights. One figure, perhaps
two, were standing behind it. Another one, a man in a trenchcoat,
mud-splattered almost to his hips, was walking onto the road in front
of me, flagging me down.
"Get out of that car!"
There were exasperation and rage in his voice, an expression of utter
fury on his face. He stood just at the edge of my headlights' glare,
not directly in it, with his hands thrust deep in his pockets.
There was that. There was the speed of the sedan, as evidenced by
its skid-marks. My mind leaped instantly to one nerve-shattering
conclusion--
And I felt absolutely calm. I can't explain that. It may have been that
the night's events had already drained me of tense emotion.
_They're armed_, I thought, _but so am I! And I have a weapon that can
get them all with one sweep--_
This, while I opened the door and climbed out. While I thrust my hand
into my own pocket.