"I didn't tell you to stop!" the general bellowed.
"I didn't, sir!" the driver protested.
The jeep had been yanked to a stop and had stalled. The driver started it again, shifted to four-wheel drive, and tried to ram forward. The jeep was fixed immovably, as though set in concrete.
"Pardon me," Micheals said. "If you look, you can see that the tires are melting down."
The general stared, his hand creeping automatically toward his pistol belt. Then he shouted, "Jump, driver! Don't touch that gray stuff."
White-faced, the driver climbed to the hood of his jeep, looked around him, and jumped clear.
There was complete silence as everyone watched the jeep. First its tires melted down, and then the rims. The body, resting on the gray surface, melted, too.
The aerial was the last to go.
The general began to swear softly under his breath. He turned to the driver. "Go back and have some men bring up hand grenades and dynamite."
The driver ran back to the convoy.