he walked rapidly , rundown bootheels clocking against the paved surface of the road , and if car lights showed on the horizon he faded back and back , down over the soft shoulder to the high grass where the night bugs made their homes ... and the car would pass him , the driver perhaps feeling a slight chill as if he had driven through an air pocket , his sleeping wife and children stirring uneasily , as if all had been touched with a bad dream at the same instant .