Again a wild, careening thing, with no snow banks to break the rush, the car was speeding down the steepest of the grades like a human thing determined upon self-destruction.
A skidding curve, then a straightaway, while Barry clung to the wheel with fingers that were white with the tightness of their grip.

A second turn, while a wheel hung over the edge, a third and-- The awful, suspended agony of space.

A cry.

A crash and a dull, twisting moment of deadened Suffering.

After that--blackness.