It was a broad, gleaming band of concrete, six lanes wide with foot high rails between lanes, broken, each mile, by changeover slots.
Early morning sun cut down from the east.
Cars came by like bullets. Whirrr, whish, and they were gone.
He waved at the ones going west, but they were past him almost before he saw them. The trucks on the inner lanes were ladened streaks; the car traffic on the middle one was varicolored blurs. A streamlined bus flashed silver and dwindled to a spot in the distance.
... Moving more slowly, a passenger car came down the outer lane.
Walt waved desperately. Thirst was already on him.
The car squealed to a stop. He ran toward it.
It was his first view of an earthman. His stomach knotted with revulsion; his body shook with hatred. All his life he had been conditioned to kill them on sight.
"Where's your car?" the driver asked when he came abreast.