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Eastex Freeway had been under construction for all of her adult life, growing wider and busier as Houston grew, but never coming even close to catching up. Jantz thawed cinnamon rolls and they munched and drank coffee along the way. Mary admired his proficiency at the wheel. She thought it might be the result of never getting angry at events beyond his control. Regardless of the number of stops and starts, and the wild weaving of other drivers trying to gain a car length or a better lane, he kept his cool. The freeway was like a game, where points were awarded to drivers for getting to a destination without being hit by another vehicle, shot by a driver suffering from road rage, or spilling coffee in their laps from an unpredictable stop by a car without brake lights. If it had been her driving this morning she would have come out in the negative range, so far as points went. The main terminal at Bush International was doing its usual bustling imitation of a human beehive, making for a long walk from the parking area, then a longer one to the proper gate. They were a half-hour early, but the flight was ten minutes early, too; a minor miracle. That almost caused them to be late when they were delayed by too many spot searches by the uniformed Homeland Security guards, caused, no doubt, by a contretemps, which might have happened halfway across the continent. "There she is," Mary said, then shouted, "Crystal! Over here!" Her cry went unheard in the cacophony of jets, passengers, and ticket agents; all generating decibels that banged against ears without hindrance. She raised her arm and waved like a sailor practicing semaphore technique. Jantz joined in, and between the two, Crystal finally spotted them. Mary and Crystal hugged briefly. Mary introduced Crystal as they moved to the sliding walkway. Crystal appeared surprised when Jantz robbed her of her bag, not listening to her protests. It was a welcome diversion after the crowded flight, seeing that the old southern manners hadn't quite died out. "Do you have any other luggage?" Jantz asked, just to be sure. "No, this is it. My return flight leaves Sunday and I wanted to travel light." "Great. Let's head for home, then while you ladies chit chat and get caught up on the latest fashions in elephant guns and bazookas, I'll fix you some breakfast." Jantz's chatter amused Crystal until she saw that it was the method he used to avoid stress and irritation while driving. Soon he had them both laughing as he began describing the drivers and vehicles Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html that passed them on the freeway, paying less attention to the posted speed limits than a duck would to a desert. "That one's a red-hatted lane-hog. You can tell by the way its crest is on backwards. And there's a cell warbling dunce-head. You can spot it by the way it uses its hands for everything except driving." Crystal laughed hysterically, making Mary join in despite being used to his warped humor by now. "And coming up behind us is a brain-damaged...hey! Goddamn it, move over! Damn you-" Mary watched with frightful fascination as time appeared to have slowed to a crawl. Jantz wrestled with the wheel of the car, trying to force his way back into the outside lane of traffic against the bulk of a huge SUV. There was nowhere to go with cars behind him and the hulk banging against the side of his car with a sound like the clashing of warped cymbals. He tried to slow and was banged from behind by a similar vehicle. Someone was trying to kill them. The bridge over the San Jacinto River loomed ahead like a gigantic casket. There was nothing to do except speed up. He tromped down hard on the gas and pulled ahead. It might have worked except for an innocent driver who picked that moment to swerve around the SUV and get into the lane ahead of him, no doubt happy at acing another two car lengths ahead on the drive home. "Hold tight!" Jantz yelled. There was nothing to do except brake as hard as he could and damn the consequences. It all happened at once, a terrible grinding crash that snapped his body forward against the seat belt, then a long screech of tortured metal as a fender was ripped off. His car slewed sideways and was broadsided into a rollover, but then a driver unable to stop hit it again from the back. That smash kept them from tipping over, but it was little consolation, for just then he caught sight of a man in the passenger seat of the SUV, a bearded beast with a bald head and a ham-like fist holding a silencer-equipped handgun. He whipped the steering wheel with all his strength, yelling, "Duck! It's a gun!" Holding onto the wheel with one hand while the wreckage slowed, he reached inside his jacket for his weapon, but they were tipping up on one side and being dragged down the edge of the highway by the SUV, like a big cat bringing home a gazelle for its kittens. The only thing saving them from going off the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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