he moves toward jane - there is something queerly unnatural in this movement, and in a moment we'll understand, but for the time being we must be puzzled.
he's in a wheelchair, looking glumly after jane.
he's buzzing along toward downtown, which is still some distance away - but at least he's made it back to the sidewalk again.
he decides he's far enough away to be safe. he pushes the starter button. the engine cranks, coughs, and cranks some more. marty frowns, and pulls out a wire- a rudimentary choke, i suppose. he pushes the starter button again. it cranks, but doesn't start.
he rolls over to the picnic table and gets a roman candle. he plants the stick in the ground and lights the fuse. the roman candle shoots into the sky.
he's holding another fountain in one hand and his matches in the other. he's looking toward the cut and the waterfall.
with a little shrug, he lights the fuse on the fountain and sets it on the ground, as before.
he's checking out the stuff on the table for his next choice when he hears a clear sound: a snapping, splintering branch.
marty who's there?
he punches the bullet's starter. the motor cranks and cranks. no go, though. marty pulls out the choke wire, alternating terrified stares at the grove of trees with terrified stares at his rudimentary dashboard.
working that starter for all it's worth.  but the motor only cranks. still no start.
he gives up on the motor. he looks toward the picnic table where the fireworks are. he grabs up the tracer. he gets the matches out of the breast pocket of his p.j.'s and promptly drops them in his lap. he scrabbles for them.
he tries to hold the tracer and strike a match at the same time. he can't; to do that he'd need at least one more hand. he puts the tube of the tracer between his teeth and tries again.
he is in an extremity of terror.
the outfielder who caught the fly trots past, and glances his way.
he groans. sound of the coupe's engine grows louder.
he's nearly paralyzed with terror- even if he wasn't, he wouldn't get far in a powerless silver bullet.
marty mr. zinneman! mr. zinneman!