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The traffic looked impossible to Nancy. They had gone too far onto the freeway to backup and no alternative route would be fast enough anyway. It was worse than her worst nightmare. She was holding Spike in her hands and there was nothing she could do to help him if the battery power gave out. She clutched the HP in her hands and stared at it. She reminded Roger that she couldn't tell how fast the battery was being consumed. There was now experience to go on. It could be two hours or ten minutes. Roger had to do something. The traffic was moving at a snail's pace. He signaled the driver in the lane next to his. The bright red Porsche owner was not happy, but somehow realized that Roger would be willing to push him out of the way if he had to. Roger had his El Camino angled across the lanes of traffic. He leaned on the horn as he crossed the final lane and then slid down into the dusty grass median. Spinning the power-assisted steering wheel pointed the car back in the right direction and they were off. Horns blew back at them in anger as other motorists protested Roger's illegal driving. Nancy held onto Spike and braced herself against the dash. Her eyes were scanning the darkness ahead of the headlights hoping they wouldn't see a bridge coming. Half a mile later Roger returned to the asphalt pavement where traffic was now moving at a normal pace. He pushed the speedometer to 90 mph as he moved in and out of all three lanes. They would reach MicroLabs in another 20 minutes. Hopefully, that would be soon enough.
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