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"Of course not," she said, in sharp French still, barely glancing at me. She looked irresistible as with two fingers she twisted the wheel again, swinging us into yet another ninety-degree turn. We were headed for the freeway.
"Then you're driving us away from Marius!" I said. "Stop. "
"So let him blow up the van that's following us!" she cried. "Then I'll stop. " She had the gas pedal floored, her eyes fixed on the road in front of her, her hands locked to the leatherclad wheel.
I turned to see it over Louis's shoulder, a monster of a vehicle bearing down with surprising speed -- an overgrown hearse it seemed, hulking and black, with a mouthful of chromium teeth across the snub-nosed front and four of the undead leering at us from behind the tinted windshield glass.
"We can't get clear of this traffic to outrun them!" I said.
"Turn around. Go back to the auditorium. Gabrielle, turn around!"
But she bore on, weaving in and out of the motor coaches wildly, driving some of them in sheer panic to the side.
The van was gaining.
"It's a war machine, that's what it is!" Louis said. "They've rigged it with an iron bumper. They're going to try to ram us, the little monsters!"
Oh, I had played this one wrong. I had underestimated. I had envisioned my own resources in this modem age, but not theirs.
And we were moving farther and farther away from the one immortal who could blow them to Kingdom Come. Well, I would handle them with pleasure. I'd smash their windshield to pieces for starters, then tear off their heads one by one. I opened the window, climbing halfway up and out of it, the wind whipping my hair, as I glared at them, their ugly white faces behind the glass.
As we shot up the freeway ramp, they were almost on top of us. Good. Just a little closer and I would spring. But our car was skidding to a halt. Gabrielle couldn't clear the path ahead.
"Hold on, it's coming!" she screamed.
"Like hell it is!" I shouted, and in an instant I would have jumped off the roof and gone into them like a battering ram.
But I didn't have that instant. They had struck us full force, and my body flew up in the air, diving over the side of the freeway as the Porsche shot out in front of me, sailing into space.
I saw Gabrielle break through the side door before the car hit the ground. And she and I were both rolling over on the grassy slope as the car capsized and exploded with a deafening roar.
"Louis!" I shouted. I scrambled towards the blaze. I would have gone right into it after him: But the glass of the back portal splintered as he came through it. He hit the embankment just as I reached him. And with my cape I beat at his smoking garments, Gabrielle ripping off her jacket to do the same.
The van had stopped at the freeway railing high above. The creatures were dropping over the edge, like big white insects, and landing on their feet on the slope.
And I was ready for them.
But again, as the first one skidded down towards us, scythe raised, there came that ghastly preternatural scream again and the blinding combustion, the creature's face a black mask in a riot of orange flame. The bod
y convulsed in a horrid dance.
The others turned and ran under the freeway.
I started after them, but Gabrielle had her arms around me and wouldn't let me go. Her strength maddened me and amazed me.
"Stop, damn it!" she said. "Louis, help me!"
"Let me loose!" I said furiously. "I want one of them, just one of them. I can get the hindmost in the pack!"
But she wouldn't release me, and I certainly wasn't going to fight her, and Louis had joined with her in her angry and desperate entreaties.
"Lestat, don't go after them!" he said, his polite manner strained to the fullest. "We've had quite enough. We must leave here now. "
"All right!" I said, giving it up resentfully. Besides, it was too late. The burnt one had expired in smoke and sputtering flames, and the others were gone into silence and darkness without a trace.
The night around us was suddenly empty, except for the thunder of the freeway traffic high above. And there we were, the three of us, standing together in the lurid glaze of the blazing car.
Louis wiped the soot from his face wearily, his stiff white shirtfront smudged, his long velvet opera cape burnt and torn.
