Herb and Norma were upon it.
"About a—five hundred yards," Herb said. "Over that way: the highway. Let's go!"
Running at his side, Norma prayed desperately for a car to come soon.
They sprinted the last short distance because of growing headlights from the south. The car was coming fast, and Herb jumped into the roadway, waving his hands.
The car came on, sounding its horn hysterically. Herb waved and brakes squealed, and the car, at almost the last instant, veered away from him. The wind of its passing rustled his hair, and the horn still bleating, it slowly dwindled as the red tail lights faded into the darkness.
They waited. Five minutes passed.
"One's got to come!"
Early fire hung over the ocean from the as yet invisible sun. Dew lay on the plowed field behind them. The air was chill.
It seemed that the sun was symbolic fire slowly creeping and coloring the sky, slowly spreading over the world.
"What time is it?" Herb asked.