Pennsylvania became Ohio at a rate which Lyle considered equivalent to the speed of snail. The tunnel underneath one of the mountains had been shut down to their side of the highway for almost an hour and Lyle had sweated out that delay like a man on death row. There’d been no way to go around the line of traffic, and while a wise person might have kept a closer eye on the local radio station, neither of them had thought to do so. Lyle didn’t figure that the maintenance crew, or whatever it was delaying them, would leave all those vehicles on the road for too long, but the nagging voice in the back of his mind kept whispering that they were going to wait there forever—until sunset—and then there’d be all kinds of trouble. That, coupled with the ridiculous amount of traffic they’d encounter
