"What's the trouble? You crack up? While we're riding you can use the autophone—"
Doug moved into the vehicle slowly, then lashed out at the man's head with the smooth, heavy rock that was in his left hand. In his exhaustion he struck only a glancing blow, and there was barely time for a second, but the second connected, and the driver slumped, jammed behind his semi-circular steering wheel.
"Mike, Terry—"
In a moment the helicopter would have him spotted, or an S-Council patrol car would be braking beside him.
They hauled the driver out, left him at the road side. He was not dead, and Doug was curiously thankful for that. He had killed one man already....
He wasted a second for another glance at the sky. Closer now, and it was obvious that they had spotted the ship. He had to get the vehicle in motion somehow. A robot sped by, its air wake rocking them slightly. He had the pack on the seat beside him, and Terry was slamming the door.
No clutch or brake pedal. Only one pedal, and it could only be an accelerator. But pivoted in the middle. There was no sound to the engine, no way to tell if it were running because the only dash instrument was a speed indicator.
He pressed the pedal forward. And they did not move. Backward, then....
It moved. In five seconds the speed needle was climbing past eighty, going smoothly upward.
He wondered if they had been seen.