He shouted hoarsely, rubbing at his alcohol-burned eyes. He lunched around the room after her, but blinded like that it was a comparative easy manner for her to stick out her leg and trip him near the door. As he went sprawling, she got out of there. "I'll send help back for you!" she called to the bound taxi-driver, and sprinted across the porch and down the hill toward the cab. She got in and slammed the door and with trembling fingers tried to insert the ignition key. She finally shoved it home and heard footsteps pounding across the wood of the porch. That would be Lucky. That meant only seconds remained to her.... The starter ground and ground. The car wouldn't kick over. She was still trying when Lucky reached her. At the last moment she realized that the car was on a hill. If she released the handbrake she would at least coast downhill away from him. The car began to move as she tried the starter button again. Then the door across from her was pulled open and Lucky threw himself into the car, sprawling across the front seat toward her. At that moment, the engine kicked over and Jeanne-Marie put the car in gear. * * * * * It started with a clashing of gears, leaping forward with a surge of power. The door on Lucky's side was still open and swung back and forth. Lucky was sitting up now, reaching for her, trying to pull her away from the wheel. They struggled while the car skidded from side to side of the road. Jeanne-Marie kept her foot on the accelerator, though, and their speed increased. The car swerved wildly and, she knew, might even overturn on one of the steeper turns in the country road. It swerved again, rocking. It went up on two wheels, the tires screaming. Now the open door banged and grated against asphalt. Lucky had a strong grip on her shoulder and his face was very close to her own and she told him, "You'll kill us, you fool!" "You think I care? You care, baby. I don't--" She felt her fingers being pulled inexorably from the steering wheel. If she lost her hold, the car, doing fifty now, would be entirely out of control. The car swerved again, went up on two wheels, lurching. Her right elbow was suddenly free and she jabbed with it, hitting something. The car lurched again, as if deciding whether to right itself or go over on its side. And Lucky, arms and legs flailing, went out the open door. Jeanne-Marie braked the car quickly. She could see him in the rear-view mirror, a dark shadow on the surface of the road, not moving. She stopped the car and used its two-way radio to call the cab company. Then, making sure that the still form of the man on the road was not moving now, she allowed herself an unexpected feminine reaction. She fainted. * * * * * It was two o'clock the next afternoon. Rural sheriff's station, full of city police now. And Lucky: real name George Carmine, a prisoner. And confused police.