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It was like driving blind. The eyeholes in the bag killed most of Trev's peripheral vision, dark rain spattered the windshield faster than the wipers could clear it, the parking lot lights were so dim that they might've been on rheostats turned way down, and his headbeams only seemed to penetrate fifteen or twenty feet into the heavy downpour before fading out completely. |
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Though he couldn't see worth a damn, he drove fast and hoped for the best. |
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Too much time had already gone by. |
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Crazies might've already overrun O'Casey's, might've already gotten to Maureen. |
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She'll be OK, he told himself. |
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His wheels bumped over the curb. He drove across grass, steering closer to the hedge by the station wall until bushes squeaked against the right side of his car. He spotted the portico's nearest support post. Slowing down, he passed between it and the station's front door. His tires rolled onto the walkway's smooth pavement. Rain stopped hitting the hood, the windshield. He eased forward until it went silent above his |
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