Flood Rising (Jenna Flood #1)

A square silhouette rose up out of the darkness and then another. She had seen the buildings on the map. Gator Station. Trying to reconcile what she was seeing—what she could barely see—with her mental map, while running from a gunman, was a lot more difficult than she had anticipated. She recalled that there was a path around the buildings toward an enormous pond, which the satellite photograph revealed was brimming with alligators.

She veered in that direction, barely able to make out the path until she was right on top of it. The phone had a built in light that could be used as a camera flash or a flashlight, but using it would be a dead giveaway—literally—even if the men hunting her didn’t have night vision. And if they did…

If they did, then maybe there was a way to level the playing field. Without slowing, she took out the phone and turned it on. The screen display flared brightly, but she held it close to her body, hiding its illumination until she could activate the camera.

She stopped, turned and with the phone held high in her left hand, she thumbed the camera button.

Even though she wasn’t looking directly at it, the flash seemed to light up the world. The path and the trees appeared before her, and right in the center of the scene was a tall figure, caught in mid-stride, a pistol in one hand and a futuristic looking goggle covering one of his eyes. The image vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and when the darkness returned, it seemed even blacker than before.

There was an odd scuffling sound behind her and a snarled curse. Amplified by the night vision device, the flash must have seemed as bright as an atomic bomb blast. Blinding the man, however, was only the first part of Jenna’s plan. She aimed the pistol at the spot where the man had been, thumbed off the safety, and pulled the trigger.





28



3:41 a.m.



The report was deafening. The pistol bucked wildly in her hand, and she almost dropped it. In her haste, she had forgotten about bracing against the recoil. It seemed unlikely that the shot had found its mark, but the show of resistance might give the killer a moment’s pause.

“A little warning next time,” Mercy said.

“Sorry.” Jenna could barely hear Mercy over the ringing in her ears, and she didn’t know if her muttered apology was audible. Yet, she also knew that if another opportunity presented itself, she wouldn’t waste time keeping Mercy in the loop.

She turned back, using the phone’s screen to briefly illuminate the way ahead. The path continued alongside a building and split, with one branch leading to a small wooden grandstand and the other turning onto a long wooden platform that extended out over the alligator pond. Jenna found Mercy’s arm and pointed her toward the latter. As Mercy charged out onto the platform, Jenna ducked into the seating area and faced the path again.

She stood in a textbook Weaver’s stance, the pistol gripped firmly in her right hand and braced with her left. She waited for the man to make his approach. The lingering effects of the loud report faded with each passing second. When she held her breath, she could make out the sound of Mercy’s footsteps on the platform and the more guttural noise of alligators bellowing in the pond.

She let out her breath slowly, quietly, and drew in another.

There was soft squishing sound, the noise of wet shoes on the path. The sound repeated, louder and closer. She homed in on the noise like a bat using sonar to pinpoint a mosquito.

“Jenna?”

Jenna gasped at the sound of Mercy’s voice, a low hiss from the darkness, and pointed the gun away. She had almost pulled the trigger, almost shot her friend.

Even as the horrifying image of Mercy, dead at her own hands, flashed through her mind, Jenna heard the squishing sound again, closer still, much closer than Mercy’s voice had been. The man was there, right in front of her.

She brought the pistol up again and fired. This time, the gun barely moved. The bright muzzle flash illuminated the man for just an instant, and Jenna saw the surprise on his face as he jerked back, surrounded by red mist. She fired again and saw him go down.

In the stillness that followed, she felt the same rush she had experienced after her battle with Raul, a sense of power and victory. She had fought back. She had killed. And now she knew that she could do it again.