Flood Rising (Jenna Flood #1)

As she swept into Mercy’s bedroom—the room where she most often had hung out, laying on Mercy’s bed, with its dark green comforter, watching Mercy’s forty-two inch, plasma-screen television—it occurred to Jenna that the people trying to kill her had now taken away her only remaining home. True, Mercy’s trailer had not been physically destroyed—not yet, anyway—but its sanctity had been breached. It would never again be that place of refuge. They had taken that from her forever.

That realization made it easier to wrap her arms around the television set and heave it through the enormous bay window that looked out from the end of the trailer. Pain throbbed in her arm, a reminder that she’d been struck by something when Zack had shot through the door. She glanced down to inspect the injury site. She did not think she had been hit by a bullet, but something had scraped across the outside of her arm. It hurt, but appeared superficial: a stripe of raw flesh, slowly oozing sweat-like beads of blood.

Mercy came in just as the glass exploded outward. If the destruction bothered her, she gave no indication. Her attention, and the business end of her gun, were both fixed on the front door as she backed into the bedroom.

Jenna scooped up the plush comforter and threw it over the windowsill, knocking jagged shards of broken glass out of the way. “Come on!”

Once again, she didn’t wait to see if Mercy would follow, but clambered over the windowsill and lowered herself down. Twilight had fallen over the island, turning the surrounding homes into surreal, shadowy blocks silhouetted against a purple sky. She looked back up and saw Mercy peering down.

“Come on!” she urged again.

There was a loud bang behind Mercy as the front door burst inward. The impact that had forced it open shook the whole trailer and gave Mercy the impetus she needed to make the leap. Jenna put out a hand to steady her as she landed, and then both of them were running for the truck. There was no sign of Zack or anyone else, but Jenna didn’t doubt he would soon discover their escape route and move to cut them off. She headed straight to the passenger door, got in, then locked it and hunched down out of direct view. Mercy slid in behind the wheel and fumbled with the key.

“Give me the gun,” Jenna whispered.

“What?”

“You can’t drive and shoot at the same time.”

Mercy’s face, barely visible in the darkness, drew into a frown. “Do you know how to use it?”

“I’m a quick learner.”

Mercy gave a weary sigh then handed it over, careful to keep the business end pointed away from either of them. As Jenna curled her hand around the gun, which was much heavier than she expected, Mercy said, “Do not touch the trigger, or do anything else unless I tell you to, okay?”

Jenna nodded. Mercy slotted the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life after just a second, and then she threw the truck into reverse and stomped on the gas pedal. There was a roar of spinning wheels, and a scattering of loose gravel shot out ahead of the pickup as it lurched backward into the street. Mercy hit the brake.

Jenna heard the mechanical thump of the transmission shifting into ‘drive,’ but her attention was fixed on a dark shape about fifty yards behind them. It was a parked car that definitely had not been there when they had arrived only a few minutes earlier. As if to confirm her suspicions, the car’s headlights flared.

Zack had brought some friends along.

Mercy accelerated a little less dramatically, but in a few seconds the truck was cruising down the street well in excess of the posted residential speed limit. The twin headlights behind them halted their advance right in front of Mercy’s trailer, stopping only long enough for Zack to climb inside. Mercy turned a corner, and the car was lost from view. Just a few seconds later, Jenna saw the sweep of its headlights again, and she knew the pursuit was only just beginning.

She felt the truck slowing, and she whipped her head around to see what was happening in front of them. Mercy hit the brakes, slowing as she approached an empty intersection. “What are you doing?” Her voice was more frantic than she intended.

“Stop sign,” replied Mercy, but even as she said it, she seemed to grasp the foolishness of the automatic reaction, and accelerated again. “Sorry. This is a new experience for me.”

“Me too.” Jenna wondered if the same could be said for the men in the car. Probably not. In a situation like this, experience would count for a lot. She searched her memory, trying to recall all of Noah’s little critiques of the action movies they had watched together. “Turn off your lights.”

“What?”

“It will be harder for them to spot us if they can’t see our tail lights.”

“And harder for us to see where we’re going.”

Nevertheless, Mercy reached down and turned a switch. The dashboard went black. The road ahead of them was much harder to see, but the overhead streetlights cast enough illumination for Mercy to stay on the paved surface.

They passed dozens of trailer homes and a few other, more permanent-looking structures, and Jenna recognized where they were. “Take the next right.”

Mercy looked at Jenna, her expression unreadable in the darkness, then steered in the indicated direction. “Where are we headed?”