Ranell’s suddenly realized there was a gap in the traffic where the Kia had just been. It was right behind the man screaming at him. White hot rage flared in his breast. He raised his middle finger to the protestor and gunned the gas, plowing past him in a desperate attempt to escape.
The mob went wild, howling with bloodlust as Ranell fought his way to the shoulder, smashing his sedan through brightly painted wooden barricades and scattering fleeing protestors as he shot forward towards the offramp. His car was pelted with every form of brick and bat and trash the protestors could lay their hands on. Every window was cracked, and his radiator began to smoke dangerously. “C’mon, c’mon!” he screamed at his car. “Don’t give up on me now. Only a little farther!” He knew in his heart that they would kill him if he stopped. Terror drove him on, heedless of the damage he left in his wake.
He battered away a shopping cart that had been rolled into his path and then gunned his engine down the open asphalt surface. He was free.