Programmed for Peril

like this part of the city. The streets were deserted, except for an occasional disheveled wanderer. She tried four times to restart the engine. Grind, grind, but no ignition.
    Maybe it was flooded. She sat for five minutes, looking nervously around. If it didn’t start now, she was going to use her car phone. No way was she going for a hike in this neighborhood. The warehouses seemed to grow several stories higher and lean out above the narrow street.
    She glanced in the rearview mirror. Motion. From an alley on the right emerged a monster road roller, two high, heavy cylinders with a cab in the middle. Great! It was turning in her direction. No way it could get around her. She’d have to get out and explain the situation to the operator as soon as the machine stopped behind her car.
    As the roller drew closer its towering front cylinder completely filled the rearview mirror. How slowly it moved! Weight was its thing, not speed. Its size was hypnotic. Having it anywhere behind her car was threatening. She waited for it to stop.
    It didn’t.
    Her radio blasted: "Trish, Carson, and Melody—together forever!" That voice! It had already crept as unexpectedly as a snake from previously doctored radios. That didn’t make it less terrifying now.
    It was worse, because she understood she had been caught in a trap!
    The massive roller’s metal curve touched her rear bumper.
    “No!”
    "Trish, Carson, and Melody—together forever!"
    The Acura shook. Clatter behind. Her bumper had been broken off! Oh, Lord! The roller operator was going to crush her car!
    But not her. No way! She was out of there! She unbelted, touched the electronic door lock button, and flipped the driver’s side lever. She flung her shoulder against the door.
    It didn’t open.
    It was still locked!
    Baffled, she touched the lock button again. The lock posts stayed down. The electronics had been tampered with! Carson’s work!
    Grinding from the rear. Two explosions. The rear tires had blown. The Acura’s rear sank. The windshield rose before her, pointing the way to the sky, not the road.
    She spun in her seat and dug at the driver’s side lock post with her thumb.
    It wouldn’t budge. It wouldn’t budge!
    She was going to be crushed to death!
    The noise of thin sheet steel and frame collapsing sounded deafening in the enclosed space.
    The window. She could crawl out the window. She pressed the electronic window stud. The glass began to lower! She could get out.
    Halfway down it stopped. She shoved the stud harder, but the window didn’t budge. She couldn’t fit through the opening. Carson had thought of that, too! Her finger slipped, and her nail snapped.
    She didn’t want to scream. She simply couldn’t stop herself.
    When she drew breath she heard: “Trish, Carson, and Melody—together forever!” She was too panicked to bother silencing the radio.
    What did that voice matter when she was going to die?
    She flung herself against the door, shrieking when it didn’t budge. Behind, the trunk had collapsed. The rear seats tilted forward. Above, the roof began to slant backward. In moments it would press down, crushing her. She would become a smear of blood and bone amid metal and flattened seating.
    The side windows’ glass followed suit. She felt the heat of friction, smelled torn paint and plastic. Her screams drowned out the sounds of destruction.
    Her seat nudged her back. It was folding forward! The roof brushed her hair like a fatal caress. She leaned forward. The wheel! It would crush her chest. She flung herself across the seat. She beat the upholstery in a spasm of terror and panic.
    The seat back pressed forward. She squirmed onto the floor. The shift lever dug into her hip. Face up, she saw the roof descend, curved in the arc of the roller.
    In seconds she would be dead!
    Only after ten rapid heartbeats did she realize the only sound now was her screaming. The roller no longer advanced. She lay motionless for two dozen thrusts of her hurried heart. She had time to understand how uncomfortable she was, how raw her throat from shrieking.
    She squirmed up. Her head spun as she peered through webbed windows and windshield. Her eyes were smeared with tears of hysteria. Ahead on the comer thirty yards away stood a figure. Though she couldn’t see clearly, she nonetheless recognized who waved and smiled at her.
    Carson!
    The world roared, darkened, and she was swept away....
    When she awoke firemen and police were prying her out of